The Bunsby papers Part 29

THE PIECE OF LUCK.

It so happened that the very truckman who was sent to take Henry's trunks, was our friend Bobolink, who was plying in the vicinity, and as it was his first job, he was anxious enough to get it accomplished; therefore, a few minutes before Sterling came out, he and his protege, Bryan, the Irishman, trotted up to the door.

"There! away with you up, and get the trunks," said Bobolink; "I'll wait for you here."

Bryan timidly rung at the bell, and entered. In the meantime, Tom stood at his horse's head, pulling his ears, and having a little confidential chat. Taking out his wallet, he investigated its contents.

"Only fifty cents," he exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders, "and this job will make a dollar--that's all the money in the world."

In putting back his greasy, well-worn wallet, his eye happened to fall upon an object, which made the blood rush with a tremendous bound through his frame. Lying close to the curb, just below his feet, was a large pocket-book.

"Good gracious!" he exclaimed, "what's that? It looks very like"--(picking it up hurriedly, and taking a hasty survey of its contents)--"it is--money--heaps of money--real, good money, and such a lot--all fifties and twenties!" And now a crowd of contending thoughts pressed upon his brow. First, he blessed his good luck; then, he cursed the heaviness of the temptation--he thrust it deep into his bosom; again, he thought he would place it where he found it; at one moment he would whistle, and endeavor to look unconcerned; at another, he would tremble with apprehension. What to do with it, he did not know; but the tempter was too strong; he at last determined to retain it. "It's a windfall," said he to himself; "n.o.body has seen me take it. Such a large sum of money could not have been lost by a poor person, and n.o.body wants it more than I do myself. I'll be hanged if I don't keep it!"

Just then Bryan emerged from the door, with a most lachrymose expression of countenance, and was very much astonished to find that his stay did not produce an equally woe-begone effect upon Tom.

"There's no thrunks goin'," said Bryan. "The fellow as was leavin', ain't leavin' yet; because somebody's after leavin' him a lot o' money.

"Come, jump up, then," cried Bobolink, "and don't be wasting time there."

At that moment his eye caught that of Sterling, who, with Travers, had commenced a search for the lost pocket-book. Instinct told him in an instant what their occupation was, and yet he determined to keep the money.

"My man," said Travers to Bryan, "did you see anything of a pocket-book near this door?"

"Is it me?" replied Bryan. "Do I look as if I'd seen it? I wish I had!"

"What for? you'd keep it, I suppose?" observed Travers.

"Bad luck to the keep," replied Bryan; "and to you for thinkin' it! but it's the way of the world--a ragged waistcoat's seldom suspected of hidin' an honest heart."

"Come, old friend," said Henry to Sterling, "these men have not seen it, evidently;" and off they went on their fruitless errand, while a feeling of great relief spread itself over Bobolink's heart at their departure.

"How wild that ould fellow looked," said Bryan.

"Humbug!" replied Bobolink; "it was only put on to make us give up the pocket-book."

"Make us give it up?"

"Yes; that is to say, if we had it. There, don't talk. I'm sick. I've got an oppression on my chest, and if I don't get relief, I'll drop in the street."

"Indeed, an' somethin's come over ye since mornin', sure enough," said Bryan; "but you've been kind, an' good, an' generous to me, an' may I never taste glory, but if I could do you any good by takin' half yer complaint, I'd do it."

"I dare say you would," replied Tom; "but my const.i.tution's strong enough to carry it all. There, you run home, and tell Polly I'll be back early. I don't want you any more."

As soon as Bryan was off, Bobolink sat down on his truck, and began to ruminate. His first thought was about his wife. "Shall I tell Polly?"

thought he. "I've never kept a secret from her yet. But, suppose she wouldn't let me keep it? I shan't say a word about it. I'll hide it for a short time, and then swear I got a prize in the lottery." It suddenly occurred to him that he was still on the spot where he had found the money. "Good Heaven," said he, "why do I linger about here? I must be away--away anywhere! and yet I feel as though I was leaving my life's happiness here. Pooh! lots of money will make any one happy." So saying, and singing--but with most constrained jollity--one of the songs which deep bitterness had called up spontaneously from his heart, he drove to the nearest groggery, feeling a.s.sured that he should require an unusual stimulant of liquor, to enable him to fitly bear this acc.u.mulation of good luck, which did not justly belong to him.

CHAPTER V.

HOME.

"What a dear, considerate, good-natured husband I have, to be sure! The proudest lady in the land can't be happier than I am in my humble house," said Polly, as she bustled about to prepare for Tom's coming home, having been informed by Bryan that she was to expect him. "Poor fellow! he may well be tired and weary. I must get his bit of supper ready. Hus.h.!.+ that's his footstep," she continued. But something smote her as she noticed the fact, that he was silent. There was no cheering song bursting from his throat--no glad word of greeting; but he entered the door, moody and noiseless. Another glance. Did not her eye deceive her? No! The fatal demon of Liquor had imprinted his awful mark upon his brow. She went up to him, and, in a voice of affection, asked what was the matter.

"Matter? What should be the matter?" he answered, peevishly.

"Don't speak so crossly, Thomas," said she, in a subdued voice; "you know I did not mean any harm."

"Bless your little soul! I know you didn't," he exclaimed, giving her a hearty embrace. "It's me that's the brute."

"Indeed, Thomas, you are nothing of the kind," she went on, the cheerful smile once more on her lip.

"I am, Polly; I insist upon being a brute. Ah! you don't know all."

"All what? you alarm me!"

"I wish I dared tell her," thought Bobolink; "I will! I've found a jolly lot of money to-day, Polly."

"How much, Thomas?"

"Shall I tell her? I've a great mind to astonish her weak nerves. How much do you think?" cried he, with a singular expression, which Polly attributed but to one terrible cause, and she turned sadly away. That angered him--for men in such moods are captious about trifles. "I won't tell her," said he; "she doesn't deserve it. Well, then, I've earned a _dollar_."

"Only a dollar?" replied Polly. "Well, never mind, dear Thomas, we must make it do; and better a dollar earnt, as you have earnt yours, by your own honest industry, than thousands got in any other way."

Somehow Tom fancied that everything she said was meant as so many digs at him, forgetting, in his insane drunkenness, that she must have been ignorant of what had pa.s.sed. The consequence was, that he became crosser than ever.

"Why do you keep saying savage things, that you know must aggravate me?" he cried. "I can't eat. Have you any brandy in the house? I have a pain here!" and he clasped his hands upon his breast, where the pocket-book lay concealed. "I think the brandy would relieve me."

"My poor Thomas," replied his wife, affectionately; "something must have happened to annoy you! I never saw you thus before; but you are so seldom the worse for drink, that I will not upbraid you. The best of men are subject to temptation."

At that word Bobolink started from his seat, and gazing intently in her face, exclaimed--

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why, even you, Thomas, have been tempted to forget yourself," she replied.

"How do you know?" he thundered, his face now sickly pale.

"I can see it in every feature, my poor husband!" said she, sorrowfully, as she quitted the room to get the brandy he required.

"I suppose you can," muttered Bobolink to himself, as he fell into the chair, utterly distracted and unhappy; "everybody can. I'm a marked, miserable man! and for what? I'll take it back; no, no! I can't now, for I've denied it!"

"Something has happened to vex you terribly, my dear husband!" cried Polly, as she returned with a small bottle of brandy.

"Well, suppose there has," replied he, in a loud and angry tone, "is a man accountable to his wife for every moment of his life? Go to bed!