I've Been Thinking Part 20

'You know what, well enough--why, the deed. The trunk you may keep, but the deed can do you no good.'

'Nor you, either, neighbor; it is safe--safe enough. I have got it, and I mean to keep it.' And as he said this, he very deliberately drew a pistol from his breast, and laying his hand on the table, leaned back in his chair and looked at the pretty plaything. Cross eyed him keenly, glancing from the pistol, which he saw was c.o.c.ked, to the calm and almost unmeaning countenance of Foster.

'What do you mean to do about this?'

'I don't know exactly, neighbor; but at present I shall keep it. Something may turn up, you know--and to save a great deal of talk, as it is getting late, matters must stand thus: I have obtained possession of this at some risk; you agreed to pay me well, you know, if the job succeeded. Go on then--slash away at the timber; cut down and sell off as fast as you can--no one can hinder you--hand over half you get to me, and all will go smoothly enough. Do you agree to that?'

Cross knew that Foster was a great villain, but he had never calculated upon the chance of thus getting into his power; he knew now that he was resolved upon a desperate course.

'I suppose I shall be sued as soon as I begin to cut.'

'No fear from that quarter. Rutherford is down, and has no means to contend with; his creditors will get picking enough to satisfy themselves out of his other property; and no lawyer will undertake the job, on his own risk, without more show of a t.i.tle than he can now claim.'

'Well, if they do prosecute, you agree to see to it?'

'Ay, ay, neighbor, leave all that to me.'

'And suppose there should be trouble about what Ned Saunders has been blabbing?'

'That won't amount to much; it will soon be known that you are the owner of nearly all the barrens now, and they will be careful enough how they raise their tongue against you; a man is not very likely to swear to his own injury.'

As Cross arose to depart, the other gentleman left his seat also, and dropping the hand which held the pistol, let it dangle by his side; the other hand he placed in his bosom, and facing his guest looked at him very complacently; a slight smile and a gentle, inclination of the head, on the part of Foster, were all the greeting that pa.s.sed, as Cross neither turned his head nor uttered a word, but with a quick step left the house, and went on his way.

The wages of iniquity are sometimes reaped in this world, and Cross was just tasting the bitter fruit.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Mr. Rutherford had received his dear wife and children as it were from the jaws of death, but it had been by the almost super-human exertions of the faithful Caesar, who, for a long time, was disabled by the severe injuries he had received as he bore them through the burning building. The n.o.ble beasts for which Caesar had fought so bravely, with all the luxuries and comforts of his large establishment, were swept away at the demands of creditors, and nothing that he could call his own remained except the faithful old negro--who, although a slave, was too far advanced in life to be liable as property--and those dear objects in which his heart still found some sweet solace amid the drear prospect which surrounded him.

At present he was occupying a small house which had belonged to him once, and used as a tenement for a laborer on his estate. Few were the articles of furniture which sufficed for their use, and those had been, for the most part, loaned for their immediate necessity. His lovely wife still kept her pleasant smile, but her heart was smitten with a stroke that pressed it down heavily. It was not the loss of all, nor the change of abode, nor the rude and scanty furniture, nor all the other aggravating tokens of their change of circ.u.mstances--but she saw the struggle that was agitating her husband's mind; she could not relieve him of that load of care; she could not obliterate from his memory past errors, nor could she mark out for him a path that offered any other prospect than the dark one in which they were travelling then. All she could do was to make the best of what they had, to throw into her words the softest tones, and to lighten up her countenance with the semblance of hope she did not feel.

It was not long after they had thus been reduced to the extremity of fortune's change, wearied with the turmoil of his distracted mind, Mr. Rutherford was sitting at the little window that opened from their abode upon the highway; his Mary was beside him, and she held his hand, and fondly pressed it as she oft had done in better days, put it to her heart, and let him feel how true it beat for him. The shades of evening were just setting upon them, held back a little by the young moon which hung out her crescent in the west, when a vehicle stopped at their door, and a gentleman of lively mien alighted and prepared to enter. Mrs. Rutherford went for a light, while her husband repaired to the door to receive the visitor, whoever he might be, although, as he supposed, some messenger of evil tidings, like all of late.

'Mr. Rutherford, I believe?'

'My name is Rutherford, sir; will you walk in?'

The stranger immediately followed, and entered their small apartment, Mrs. Rutherford, at the same time, placing the light on a little stand.

'I expect you have forgotten me, Mr. Rutherford; my name is Andrews. You remember the poor boy you helped some six years since.'

'Andrews--what, William Andrews!'

'The same, sir. A few years make some change in our appearance.'

It had, indeed, made some change, and one which entirely effaced every resemblance to the plain and homely-dressed lad who, six years since, had left his home to seek his fortune among strangers. He was now well-dressed; and had the ease of manner which is acquired only by mingling in society. He had grown in stature also, and was now a tall and slender man; his fresh, healthy countenance had grown pale. He wore his hair long, after the fas.h.i.+on of the South; his eye alone retained its naturally soft and expressive cast, although its brightness was dimmed, and seemed to indicate a want of energy in the physical frame. His own mother could scarcely have found a likeness to his former self; his very voice sympathized with the apparent languor of his frame, and had nothing in it that would recall the lively tone of boyhood.

'It cannot be!' said Mrs. Rutherford, who now approached and took his hand. 'Not William Andrews! Time has indeed made a change--but we are glad, heartily glad to see you.'

'It is not time alone, madam, that has made a change in my appearance, I suspect. I have been, you know, in a southern climate, and that takes severe hold sometimes of us northern men; but I am very happy again to see you, very happy indeed.'

Without the least reference by either party to the great change which had occurred in circ.u.mstances, some little time was spent in a general interchange of question and answer about persons and things; when Mrs. Rutherford left the room, perhaps from feelings of delicacy to her husband, who might not wish to refer in her presence to his own peculiar situation.

'You find, Mr. Andrews, that there have been changes here too, which perhaps must astonish you.'

'I have heard of them, sir, a few miles from hence, and have urged on my journey further than I should have done. I need not say to you, sir, that to me it is the most painful event I have yet met with in life. Is it true, my dear sir? Are you as much reduced as report affirms and appearance indicate.'

'I am as low down, so far as property is concerned, as I can be; there is absolutely nothing left.'

And then, with much composure, Mr. Rutherford unfolded the complicated maze in which he had struggled for some time, and the closing of the scene in the last fatal blow. Although apparently unmoved himself, not so was he who listened to the tale of suffering. The southern clime had marred William's beauty, but it had only added to the warmth of his heart. For some time after Mr. Rutherford had done speaking, he sat wrapt in silent thought; his emotion too strong to dare trust the utterance of a single expression. At length he rose, and taking the hand of his friend-- 'Mr. Rutherford, the ways of the Almighty are mysterious, but they must be right. When a lone wanderer, you took me by the hand; you gave me counsel, you a.s.sisted me with means, you introduced me to influential friends; you made my heart glad then, and gave me an impetus which has led me on to success beyond my expectations. The money I have returned to you, but the debt of grat.i.tude for your kindness to me in that hour will remain an uncancelled obligation while I live. And now, sir, you must take this trifle from me--I demand the right of a debtor to your bounty--take it, and keep it for your present need; it must not, it shall not be that either you or your angel wife know the pinchings of want.'

His voice trembled so violently, that he could scarcely utter the few last words; nor could Mr. Rutherford respond to this warm burst of sympathy; it had gone directly to his heart, and caused a flow of feeling that could find no vent in words.

'I must leave you for the night. G.o.d willing, I shall see you on the morrow, and tell you all my story. You then will see that I do not rob myself, and we will devise some other plan together.'

Mr. Rutherford shook his hand with a silent grasp, but it told the young man that his offering of love and grat.i.tude had done its work. Leaving his best respects for Mrs. Rutherford, William departed.

As Mrs. Rutherford entered the room, after their guest had gone, she found her husband seated by the stand, and looking at something which he had spread out upon the table.

'See here, Mary.'

She stepped up to him, and putting her arm around his neck, stooped over beside him.

'My dear husband! what does this mean? Five hundred dollars!' and she looked at him in amazement.

'Yes, my love; it is five hundred dollars given us by that young man whom a few years since we befriended: this is the way, my dear, that G.o.d gives back the bread cast upon the waters.'

'Oh, my dear George!' and she threw herself upon his bosom, 'how glad I am for you; you feel that you have one friend now, don't you?'

'Yes, Mary; and you cannot think how my heart leaps at the thought; one sympathising friend in an hour like this, is indeed "cold water to a thirsty soul"; but oh! that better Friend above, shall we ever forget him, Mary? How good! how true! how wise! how unfailing! if we will only trust in Him.'

They said no more: silently they sank together on their knees, and poured out the fulness of their hearts to that Friend--that better Friend above.

In the hour of our deep distress, when the dark clouds are around and above us, the soul is p.r.o.ne to feel that the darkness which oppresses it is the frown of G.o.d: we forget that love may be concealed, not turned away.

To Mr. Rutherford's heart this mercy-drop came; a delightful a.s.surance that he was not forsaken, and that still the arm of sovereign love was stretched out over him.

William Andrews had not been, for the few past years, engaged in the active whirl of business to no purpose: he had ama.s.sed a few thousands by a happy venture, and his success had been beyond his most sanguine expectations. But this was not all; he had learned to grapple with difficulties, and by energy and determination to accomplish results which the irresolute and fearful could only dream of. He called the next morning, and in a private interview with Mr. Rutherford procured from him a particular statement of his affairs.

In a few days he called again; and there seemed to be a cheerfulness in his air which he had not before manifested.

'I have been looking over your matters a little, my dear sir, and I cannot think they are in such a hopeless case as you imagine. Your property is indeed all attached, and if sold under the present state of things would, to be sure, be dreadfully sacrificed, and might not bring more than the claims upon it: you certainly value your estate beyond the amount for which it is holden.'

'Most certainly; but by our laws an immediate sale can be forced; and in that case, the whole will scarcely meet the demand.'

'You must apply then to some friend who will a.s.sume your debts'--Mr. Rutherford shook his head--'and who will take your property into his hands, until better times come round.'

'I have no friends, Mr. Andrews.'

'We once thought,' said Mrs. Rutherford, who was listening with much interest, 'that we had quite a number; but friends do not always stand the test of such a fall as ours has been.'

'But they could not possibly lose any thing, Mrs. Rutherford.'

'Perhaps they might not; still, you know, it is a delicate matter to ask the favor, when not one of all who have been with us in our prosperous days has seen fit to come near us now. My dear husband, until you so generously had poured out your kindness, felt that he was alone in the world.'

For some time each sat musing in silence over the uncertainty of human fortunes and earthly friends.h.i.+ps, when Mr. Andrews drew up to the table, and requesting the attention of Mr. Rutherford a moment, began to spread before him certain doc.u.ments.

'Please to examine these, sir, and say whether they are correct.'

'These are my obligations, Mr. Andrews--I gave them in good faith; and although I cannot meet them now, will own them to the last farthing.' Mr. Rutherford looked with much astonishment, for he perceived that all the responsibilities he was involved in were lying before him.

'Are there any more that you can think of, Mr. Rutherford?'

'There are no more.'

'Then, sir, you may take them and do what you please with them: all I ask of you is, to give me a claim upon your property for this amount,' naming not more than two-thirds the value of the notes. 'The interest of that I am sure you can pay, and your property is once more your own.'

William was well aware that promptness in such matters was of the first moment. He had at once liquidated every claim at a rate which each one was glad to accept, and thus materially reduced the whole amount: this he could be well secured for; the property of his benefactor need not be sacrificed, and his heart was at rest.

Blessings on you, William Andrews! Your frame is slender, and seems to be nurturing some hidden plague that may ere long make it a prey to the worm; but it is the abode of a generous spirit. How its quickened pulses beat with the ecstatic happiness which now plays within! Your eye is on that n.o.ble pair; and the overpowering emotion which is thrilling their bosom at this new and unexpected deed of love, is the richest feast you ever tasted. Oh how they will bless you as the years roll by, when in their happy home and on their own paternal soil they tread in freedom, and think of him whose generous friends.h.i.+p s.n.a.t.c.hed them from the brink of ruin, and placed them there! Oh ye lovers of this world's treasures, did you but know the secret charm these treasures can unfold! Go, dry the widow's tears; go, aid the orphan's helpless steps; go, prop the man of pure and n.o.ble soul, bowing beneath the weight of penury's heavy load--and you will feel there is a talisman of untold value in your h.o.a.rds of gold and silver which you never dreamed of.

Mr. Rutherford had no idea of taking advantage of the arrangement Andrews had made, and insisted upon giving a claim for the full amount; but this William would not allow. He had made a fair bargain with the creditors, and would not permit Mr. Rutherford to bind himself further than the amount he had paid.

'You can, my dear sir, as you are able, make good to each one what he has willingly relinquished.'

'And, G.o.d permitting. I will do it to the full amount.'

CHAPTER XXV.

We left our friends the Montjoys busy in their store, taking an account of their affairs, and preparing to encounter the difficulties they had been thrown into. They found things not quite so bad as they feared. Should the whole loss be realized, all which they had made would be swept off; but there would be enough to pay their debts--that was a great comfort: and if they could but preserve their credit, matters might all come right again. With the promptness which had ever marked his conduct, the morning after the reception of the intelligence which had given them such a shock, James was on his way to his friend McFall.

The statement which he was enabled to make was very satisfactory; and would have been all that was required, could his friend have been able to advance the funds. The pressure was indeed of a most serious kind, affecting individuals and banks alike; and requiring on the part of each the utmost skill and exertion to stem it through. James found that his only resource now to meet the present emergency, was to lay his case immediately before the Bank; if he failed to procure aid from thence, he saw not whence it was to come. The power which by circ.u.mstances becomes thus concentrated, can only truly be felt by those situated as was this young man. Whether it be an individual, or a corporate body, and whether they are conscious of it or not, the ability, for the time being, which is at their command to afford or to withhold the life-blood of trade and commercial credit, is the most despotic in its grasp on the mind of man that can be conceived this side of infinite sway. It is not, of necessity, the fault of those who wield it, that it should often press with such sickening, despairing force; so long as enterprise shall stimulate man to go a step beyond the means at his own disposal, must he in some measure depend upon the aid of others; and once dependent, he can never calculate with certainty upon enduring peace of mind. The fluctuations in trade, like changes in the weather, baffle all the skill of the most shrewd and far-sighted: they come at times before any suitable preparation can be made to meet their destructive influence, and the high-minded, honorable man is obliged to stand before the same tribunal with the mean and designing, and for too often compelled to submit to rules which make no allowance for character.

It was the first time that James had known really what it meant to ask a moneyed favor. He had begun life as we have seen, and gone on, hitherto, so much by his own means, that he felt more like a criminal about to be arraigned, than an honest man in the discharge of duty; and nothing but the absolute necessity of doing something to preserve the credit of his house, and upon which every thing now depended, would have driven him to it. He was not personally known to the cas.h.i.+er, and therefore his friend accompanied him to the Bank, introduced him, and left him to tell his own story. Fortunately for James, the person he had now to deal with was a gentleman in every sense of the word; a man of large experience, at home in all the routine of business, a complete financier, and with a large share of true benevolence.

Every unpleasant feeling was, for the time, at once banished by the agreeable, frank, and very kind manner with which this officer received and addressed him. James felt almost sure that his end was accomplished. He very soon, in a brief manner, related the circ.u.mstances in which he had been placed by the sudden failure of so many persons, and then handed to the cas.h.i.+er the schedule of his property and liabilities.

After carefully scrutinizing this paper with an air and expression of countenance that showed his business character, the stern and cold features of which damped James's hopes not a little, and at times caused a fluttering at his heart, which he had never felt before-- 'You are aware, I presume, Mr. Montjoy, that these are not only precarious times, in which the Bank feel that the utmost caution must be used, but the times are also very difficult. We cannot aid often, where we not only wish to, but should feel safe in so doing. It is as necessary for us to keep our credit unblemished as for individuals. I will, however, lay your proposition before the Board; if you will call again at one o'clock, you shall have the answer.'

Two long hours of intense anxiety were pa.s.sed, such as James had never before experienced. Not caring to return to the house of Mr. McFall, he repaired to a grove which lined the banks of pretty river that glided through the place; he sat down beneath the shade, and listened to the murmuring stream and the warbling birds--they were sights and sounds which he had always loved; but he now realized how necessary it was to the enjoyment of nature's simple sweets, to have a mind at rest. How often had he, after a weary day, sat in the quiet evening, and with Ned enjoyed its calm serenity, and watched the moonbeams play upon the water, or through the trembling leaves, and the bright stars coming one by one and gemming all the sky! What pure and peaceful thoughts they kindled, and how unalloyed the happiness that spread its soothing, quickening glow through all his frame! How he looked back now, as to an Eden, where he once had dwelt, but from which he seemed to be expelled for ever! Care, that canker of the heart, had come and taken, like a strong man armed, the full possession of his powers; tinging the heavens and the earth with its dark hue, and spoiling all their beauties.

At the time appointed he returned to the Bank; it seemed to him that the interests of the universe were at stake; and as he walked up to the tall, commanding form of the Cas.h.i.+er, the man appeared to be vested with a power that held the very springs of life at his command.

He was received with the same gentlemanly manner as at his introduction, and requested to walk behind the counter and take a seat, and as though he knew the workings of the young man's mind, and wished at once to relieve his suspense-- 'The Directors have concluded to accept your paper, sir; sit down, Mr. Montjoy;' and James took the seat with a lighter heart than he had felt for some time. 'They have done it in the confidence that your statement is correct: and I will say further to you, sir, as you are a young man, and have much business yet before you, that the manner in which you have commenced and carried on your trade, has had great weight in determining the decision of the Board. The times at present are very precarious, and you will need much prudence; but, sir, I believe I can a.s.sure you, that so long as you confine your operations to the regular run of your business, any facilities you may need will be at your service here.'

The sun shone very brightly to James as he journeyed towards home that day; nature was almost as captivating to him as in the days of childhood; and the joyous shake of Ned's hand, and the calm sweet smile of his mother, as they listened to his story, all made his heart leap in gladness, and send up to Him whose blessing was the burden of his daily pet.i.tions, warm and devout thanksgiving.

Thus the storm which had threatened to overwhelm these young men pa.s.sed with but partial injury. The foundation they had laid in patient industry, prudent management, and stern integrity, bore them proudly on. The wily plots of Mr. Cross were antic.i.p.ated by the promptness with which James attended to his affairs; and for the present, at least, the young firm is safe.

CHAPTER XXVI.

The Widow Brown, in consequence of the disclosure made by the dying Ned Saunders, was placed in no very agreeable situation. She thought that the unhappy man had his reason, but she could not be so very sure as to be willing to publish what might not after all be true, to the certain injury not only of Mr. Cross, who had ever been kind to her, but of her son also, who had wound himself around her heart, and for whom she had been so earnestly entreated by that miserable woman who declared herself his mother.

She comprehended but a very little of the nature of papers of any kind, beyond those solemn legacies from G.o.d to man, which daily she perused with love and grat.i.tude. And what Ned Saunders meant by papers which Mr. Cross was anxious to get hold of, she could not conceive.

'The poor, deluded soul,' said she one day, while walking alone, her thoughts too burdensome to be kept in; 'I am very doubtful that he knew what he said when he talked about those papers; and now that the dreadful deed is done, what good end can be answered by publis.h.i.+ng it abroad? It will not build the house again, and G.o.d will avenge it in his own time and way.'

She wished much, however, for the time when William should be able to make some disclosures as to his share in the terrible transaction. That he was a partic.i.p.ator in the crime she could not believe; but that he had attacked Ned Saunders, and that the consequences had proved fatal to one of them, she had too strong evidence to doubt. The whole was altogether beyond the comprehension of the poor widow, and all she could do, at present, was to wait for time to make plain the path of duty.

William, however, could no longer bear the struggle which agitated his mind, and he determined to unburden it. As there were reasons why he preferred to communicate with his sister, he took an opportunity, when alone, to reveal all he knew, and let her into the secret of his own present condition, and the villany of Cross. Hettie's first impulse was to fly at once to Mr. Rutherford.

'He ought to be made acquainted with these facts without a moment's delay.'

'But David, sister; think of him.'

Hettie was silent; she gazed a moment at her brother, then leaned back in her chair, and resting her head upon her hand, was lost for awhile in busy thought.

'David must be told, William; he must know it before any one else; he has had no hand in it, and all his kindness to us demands this confidence in him.'

William made no reply; he was much exhausted, and even the effort of thinking was painful. The mother also now came in, and, wis.h.i.+ng a little relaxation, Hettie left the room and sought a favourite spot to which she was in the habit of retiring, sheltered alike from the rays of the sun and common observation--a tumult of distracting thoughts rioted within; again and again she resolved the doubtful question as to her present duty, and the difficulties attending any course which presented itself to her were so great, that she most heartily longed for some experienced counsel to guide her steps.

In the midst of her perplexities, she was startled at the sound of approaching footsteps.

'I thought I should never find you. Your mother said she guessed you was here; but that thick clump of bushes hid you so, that I had almost given it up.'