The Golden Shoemaker Part 28

"You think that, do you, sir?" asked "Cobbler" Horn, evidently impressed.

"I certainly do."

"Well, I will consider it; for I dare say you are right. But to return to what we were talking about just now, perhaps, sir, you could give me a hint or two, this morning, with regard to my money?"

Thus invited, Mr. Durnford ventured to mention several cases of individual necessity with which he was acquainted, and to indicate various schemes of wide-spread benevolence in which a man of wealth might embark.

"Cobbler" Horn listened attentively; and, having entered in his note-book the names Mr. Durnford had given him, promised also to consider the more general suggestions he had made.

"I am very much obliged to you, sir," he said; "and shall often come to you for advice of this kind."

"As often as you like, Mr. Horn," laughed the minister; "it doesn't cost much to give advice. It is those who follow it that have to pay."

"Yes," rejoined "Cobbler" Horn; "and that will I do most gladly."

So saying, he rose from his seat, and held out his hand.

"Good morning, sir!"

"Good morning, my dear sir!" said the minister, grasping the proffered hand. "By the way, how is Miss Owen getting on?"

"My dear sir, I owe you eternal grat.i.tude for having made me acquainted with that young lady!"

"I'm glad of that, but not a bit surprised."

"She is a greater help to me than I can tell. And what a sad history she seems to have had--in early life, that is! Her childhood appears to have been a sad time."

"Ah, she has told you, then?"

"Yes, it came out quite by accident. She didn't obtrude it in any way."

"I am sure she wouldn't."

"And the fact that she was once a little outcast girl increases my interest in her very much."

"That," said the minister, "is a matter of course."

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

"COBBLER" HORN'S CRITICS.

The months pa.s.sed. Christmas came, and was left behind, and now spring had fairly set in.

"The Golden Shoemaker" had become a person of great consideration to the dignitaries of his church. It is true there were those amongst its wealthy members by whom he was unsparingly criticised behind his back. But this did not deter them from paying him all manner of court to his face. He was startled at the importance which he had suddenly acquired. His acquaintance was sought on every side; and he found himself the subject of a variety of polite attentions to which he had been an entire stranger until now. Men of wealth and position who, though they were his fellow-members in the church, had never yet shaken him by the hand, suddenly discovered that he was their dear friend.

There was one rich man whose pew in the church was next to that of "Cobbler" Horn. Though this man had sat side by side with his poor brother for many years, in the house of G.o.d, he had seemed unaware of his existence. But no sooner did "Cobbler" Horn become "the Golden Shoemaker"

than the att.i.tude of his wealthy neighbour underwent a change. The first sign of recognition he bestowed upon his recently-enriched fellow-wors.h.i.+pper was a polite bow as they were leaving the church; next he ventured to show "Cobbler" Horn the hymn, when the latter happened to come late one day; and, at length, on a certain Sunday morning, as they were going out, he stepped into the aisle, and proffered his hand to "the Golden Shoemaker," for a friendly shake. "Cobbler" Horn started, and drew back. It was not in his nature to be malicious; and to decline the offered civility was the furthest thing from his thoughts. He was simply lost in amazement. The gentleman who was offering to shake hands with him was one of the most important men in Cottonborough. But his great astonishment arose from the fact that this mighty personage, after sitting within reach of him in the house of G.o.d for so many years, without bestowing upon him the slightest sign of recognition, should suddenly desire to shake him by the hand! The man noticed his hesitation, and was turning away with offended dignity. But "Cobbler" Horn quickly recovered himself, and, taking the hand which had been offered to him, gave it a heartier shake than it had, perhaps, ever received before.

"It was not that, Mr. Varley," he said, "I'm glad enough to shake hands with you, as I should have been long ago. But it did seem such a queer thing that we should have been sitting side by side here all these years, and you should never have thought of shaking hands with me before. I suppose the reason why you do it now is that the Lord has seen fit to make me a rich man. Now I really don't think I'm any more fit to be shaken hands with on that account. Personally, I'm very much the same as I've been any time these twenty years past; and it does seem to me a bit strange that you and others should appear to think otherwise."

"Cobbler" Horn spoke in a pleasant tone, and there was a twinkle of amus.e.m.e.nt in his eye. But Mr. Varley was not amused. Regarding "Cobbler"

Horn with an expression of countenance which was very much like a scowl, he turned upon his heel and withdrew; and, during the week, he arranged for a sitting in another part of the church.

Mr. Varley was not the only rich and influential member of the church who had recently discovered in "Cobbler" Horn a suitable object of friendly regard. But the most cordial and obsequious of his wealthy fellow-members were ready enough to criticise him behind his back.

With the advice and help of the minister, he had begun to "make the millions fly," in good earnest; and his phenomenal liberality--prodigality, it was called by some--could not, in the nature of things, escape notice. It soon became, in fact, the talk of the town and of the country round. But it was by the members of his church that "Cobbler" Horn's lavish benefactions were most eagerly discussed. Various opinions were expressed, by his fellow-Christians, of "the Golden Shoemaker," and of the guineas with which he was so free. Some few saw the real man in their suddenly-enriched friend, and rejoiced. Others shook their heads, and said the "Shoemaker" would not be "Golden" long at that rate; and some scornfully curled their lips, and declared the man to be a fool. But the most bitter of "Cobbler" Horn's critics were certain of his wealthy brethren who seemed to regard his abundant liberality as a personal affront.

There were many wealthy members in Mr. Durnford's church. The minister sometimes thought, in his inmost soul, that his church would have been but little poorer, in any sense of the word, for the loss of some of the rich men whose names were on its roll. With all their wealth, many of them were not "rich towards G.o.d." But Mr. Durnford was circ.u.mspect. It was his endeavour, without failing in his duty, either to his Divine Master, or to these gilded sheep of his, to make what use of them he might in connection with his sacred work.

There was little, it is true, to be got out of these wealthy men but their money, and they could not be persuaded to part with much of that; but the minister did not give them much rest.

One pleasant spring evening, Mr. Durnford set out on one of what he called his "financial tours" amongst this section of his members. The first house to which he went--and, as it proved, the last--was that of a very rich brewer, who was one of the main pillars of the Church. There were other members of Mr. Durnford's flock who were of the same trade. This was not gratifying to Mr. Durnford; but what could he do? The brewers were blameless in their personal behaviour, regular in their attendance in the sanctuary, and exact in their fulfilment of the conditions of church members.h.i.+p; and he could not unchurch them merely because they were brewers. If he began there, it would be difficult to tell where he ought to stop. Nor did he scorn their gifts of money to the cause of G.o.d. He was pleased that they were willing to devote some portion of their gains to so good a purpose; his regret was that the portion was so small.

Mr. Durnford did not hesitate to tell his rich members what he conceived to be the just claims of the cause of G.o.d upon their wealth; and, on the evening of which we speak, he called first, for this purpose, on the aforesaid brewer, Mr. Caske. This gentleman lived in a large, square, old-fas.h.i.+oned, comfortable house, surrounded with its own grounds, which were extensive and well laid out. The entire premises were encompa.s.sed with a high brick wall, which might well have been supposed to hide a workhouse or a prison, instead of the paradise it actually concealed.

Perhaps Mr. Caske had selected this secluded abode from an instinctive disinclination to obtrude the abundance and comfort which he had derived from the manufacture and sale of beer; perhaps he had bought this particular house simply because it was in itself such a dwelling as he desired. At any rate, there he was, with his abundance and luxury, within his encircling wall; and one was tempted to wonder whether there was as much mystery in connection with the article of his manufacture, as seemed to be a.s.sociated with his place of abode.

The minister let himself in at a small door in the boundary wall, and made his way, through the grounds, to the front-door of the house.

"Mr. Caske has company to-night, sir," said the maid who opened the door.

"Any one I know, Mary?"

"Yes, sir; Mr. Botterill and Mr. Kershaw."

"Oh, well, I want to see them too. Where are they?"

"In the smoke-room, sir."

"Well, show me in. It will be all right."

As Mr. Durnford was a frequent and privileged visitor, the girl promptly complied with his request.

The smoke-room was a good-sized, comfortable apartment, furnished with every convenience that smokers are supposed to require. It looked out, by two long windows, on a wide sweep of lawn which stretched away from the end of the house. In this room, in chairs of various luxurious styles, sat Mr. Caske and his two friends. Each of the three men was smoking a churchwarden pipe; and at the elbow of each stood a little three-legged, j.a.panned smoker's table, on which was a stand of matches, an ash-tray, and a gla.s.s of whisky.

The three smokers slowly turned their heads, as the minister entered the room, and, on recognising him, they all rose to their feet.

"Good evening, sir," said Mr. Caske, advancing, with his pipe in his left hand, and his right hand stretched out; "you have surprised us at our devotions again."

"Which you are performing," rejoined the minister, "with an earnestness worthy of a n.o.bler object of wors.h.i.+p."

Mr. Caske laughed huskily; and the minister turned to greet Messrs.

Botterill and Kershaw, who were waiting, pipes in hand, to resume their seats.

Mr. Botterill was a wine and spirit merchant, and Mr. Kershaw was a draper in a large way.