The Bunsby papers Part 32

"Ah! where, indeed! you have taken care of that; but have you reflected that there _is_ a power to whom your machinations, your schemes of aggrandizement, are as flimsy as the veriest gossamer web?" solemnly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sterling.

"Canting sways me as little as your hurtless threats. What I have, I shall keep in spite of"----

"Heaven's justice?" interposed the old clerk.

"In spite of anything or everything," savagely replied the irritated merchant. "You have your final answer, nor is it in the power of angel or devil to alter it; and so, the sooner you relieve me from your presence the better I will like it, and the better it may be for your future prospects."

"Of _my_ future, G.o.d knows, I take no care; but for the sake of those poor young things, so cruelly left to struggle with a hard, hard world, I feel that I have strength even to oppose the stern rock of your obstinacy, almost hopeless though the effort may be. I am going," he went on, seeing the feverish impatience working in Granite's face, "but, as a parting word, remember that my dependence is not in my own ability to unmask your speciousness, or contend against the harshness of your determination. No, I surrender my case and that of my clients into _His_ hands who never suffers the guilty to triumph to the end.

The avalanche falls sometimes on the fruitfullest vineyards, as well as on the most sterile waste."

"By Heaven! you exhaust my patience," roared the other, as he rung the servants' bell impetuously; "since you will not go of your own accord, I must indignantly thrust you forth into the street like a cur."

"There shall be no need of that," meekly replied the clerk, turning to leave the apartment, just as the servant entered, bringing a letter for Mr. Granite on a silver waiter.

The latter was about to address an angry sentence to the servant, when he perceived that the letter he carried was enclosed in an envelope deeply bordered with black.

His heart gave one mighty throb as he s.n.a.t.c.hed it--tearing it open, and gasping with some terrible presentiment of evil, he but glanced at the contents, and with a fearful shriek fell prostrate.

Sterling rushed to his side, and with the aid of the servant, loosed his neckcloth, and placed him in a chair, using what immediate remedies he could command in the hope of restoring animation. It was some minutes before the stricken man, clutched from his pride of place in the winking of an eyelid, gave signs of returning vitality. During his unconsciousness, Sterling ascertained from the open letter lying at his feet, that the merchant's son, the sole hope of his existence, for whom he had slaved and toiled, set at naught all principle, and violated even the ties of kindred and of honesty, had died suddenly at college.

No previous illness had given the slightest shadow of an apprehension.

He had quietly retired to his bed at his usual hour on the previous night, and in the morning was found stark and cold. None knew the agony which might have preceded dissolution. No friendly tongue was nigh to speak of consolation; no hand to do the kindly offices of nature.

Slowly, slowly and painfully the wretched parent returned to consciousness, and with it, the terrible reality of his bereavement.

Glaring around him fiercely: "Where am I?--what is this?--why do you hold me?" he cried, madly. At this instant his glance fell upon the fatal letter; "Oh, G.o.d! I know it all--all! my son! my son!" Turning upon Sterling, fiercely, he grasped him by the throat. "Old man," he cried, "you have murdered him! you, and that villain Travers!" Then he relaxed his gripe, and in an agony of tears, fell to supplication. "It cannot be--it shall not be--oh! take me to him--what am I to do?

Sterling, my old friend, oh, forgive me--pity me--let us away." He tried to stand, but his limbs were paralyzed. "The judgment has fallen--I feared it--I expected it, but not so suddenly--it may be that there is still hope--hope, though ever so distant. Perhaps a quick atonement may avert the final blow. Quick, Sterling--give me paper, and pen." They were brought. "Now write," he continued, his voice growing fainter and fainter: "I give Travers all--all--if this late repentance may be heard, and my son should live. I know I can rely on his benevolence--quick, let me sign it, for my strength is failing fast."

With extreme difficulty, he appended his signature to the doc.u.ment Sterling had drawn up at his desire. When it was done, the pen dropped from his nerveless grasp, his lips moved for an instant as though in prayer--the next--he was--nothing!

CHAPTER IX.

SUNLIGHT.

Our scene s.h.i.+fts back to Mrs. Grimgriskin's elegant establishment, where poor Travers' affairs are once more in a very dilapidated state, as may be inferred from the conversation now progressing.

"People as can't pay," said the now curt landlady, smoothing down an already very smooth ap.r.o.n, "needn't to have no objections, I think, to turn out in favor of them as can. I'm a woman of few words--very few indeed. I don't want to make myself at all disagreeable; but impossibles is impossibles, and I can't provide without I have the means to do so with."

"My good lady," interposed Travers, "do pray give me a little time; my friend Sterling has again applied to Mr. Granite"----

"Pooh! I'm sick of all such excuses; one word for all--get your trunks ready. I'd rather lose what you owe me than let it get any bigger, when there's not the remotest chance, as I can see, for its liquidation; and, dear me, how lucky--I declare there's the very truckman who came the other day. I'll tell him to stop, for I don't mind giving you all the a.s.sistance I can, conveniently with my own interest."

So saying, she hailed Tom Bobolink, who was indeed looking somewhat wistfully towards the house. He was just cogitating within his mind what excuse he could make to get into the place, and so rid himself of his unfortunate good fortune at once.

"Yon trunks, I presume from appearance, won't take a long time to get ready," said the delicate Grimgriskin. "Here, my man; just come in here," she continued, as Tom, in a state of considerable trepidation, entered the room; "this young man will have a job for you." The poor wife now joined Travers, and on inquiring the cause of the slight tumult, was told by Henry that she must prepare to seek an asylum away from the hospitable mansion which had recently afforded them a shelter.

"Come, my love," said he, with a tolerable effort at cheerfulness, "let us at once leave this mercenary woman's roof."

"Mercenary, indeed!" the landlady shrieked after them, as they entered their own room. "Because a person won't suffer themselves to be robbed with their eyes open, they're mercenary. The sooner my house is cleared of such rubbish, the better. Mercenary, indeed!" and with an indignant toss of her false curls, she flounced out of the room.

"Now for it!" cried Tom; "the coast is clear; what the deuce shall I do with it? I dare not give it openly; suppose I say I found it under the sophia. Egad, that will do famously; here goes." So saying, he plunged his hand into his bosom, and to his horror and consternation it was not there; his blood froze in his veins for an instant, then deluged him with a perfect thaw of perspiration. "Oh, miserable, miserable wretch, I've lost it, I've lost it; what is to become of me!" In vain he searched and searched; it was clean gone. "Oh, how can I face Polly again?" he groaned. "My life is made unhappy for ever; cursed, cursed luck. That ever my eyes fell upon the thing at all: ha!" a shadowy hope flitted across him, that he might have left it at home. "Could I have been so drunken a fool as to leave it behind me? if so, where is it now? At all events, I must go back as fast as I can, for if I cannot recover it, my G.o.d! I shall go mad." With a few big jumps he reached the street, and hastily mounting his truck, drove rapidly home, unmindful of the public observation his demented look and unusual haste produced.

A short time after Tom's sudden departure, which was a perfect mystery to Mrs. Grimgriskin, and also to Henry and his wife, a timid ring was heard at the hall-door, and soon Travers, to whom every sound brought increase of apprehension, trembled as he became aware of an altercation between his irate landlady and the new comers, whoever they were.

"I tell you I must see 44, the man that had the thrunks, goin' away a few days agone," said an unmistakably Irish voice, rich and round.

"Oh, if you please, ma'am," placidly continued a small, silvery one.

The dispute, however, was very suddenly cut short by the owner of the loud voice exclaiming, "Arrah, get out o' the road, you cantankerus witch of Endher," and O'Bryan and Polly rushed up the stairs without further ceremony. The door of Travers' room was flung open. "Ha! ha!"

cried O'Bryan, "there he is, every inch of him; that's 44; long life to you; and it's glad I am I've found you, and glad you'll be yourself, I'm thinkin', if a trifle o' money will do yez any good."

"What's the matter with you, my friend, what do you seek from me?"

demanded Travers.

"Oh, sir, I beg your pardon for breaking in upon you so suddenly," said Polly, "but have you lost any money!"

"I have, indeed," replied Henry, "a large sum; do you know anything about it?"

"Yes, sir," cried Polly, with a radiant flash of her eye. "Here it is;"

handing over the wallet, with its contents, with a sigh of the greatest possible relief. "Tell me one thing, sir," she hesitatingly went on, "was it--was it--taken from you?"

"No, my good woman, it was lost by an old friend of mine, dropped, he believes, in the street."

"It was, sir, just as you say, thank Heaven for it. Yes, sir; my husband found it. Is it all there, sir? oh, pray relieve me by saying it is."

"Yes, every penny."

"Then, sir, whatever joy you may feel at its restoration cannot equal what I feel at this moment," said Polly, while the tears gushed forth unrestrainedly from her eyes.

"Here, my good woman, you must take a portion and give it to your honest husband," said Henry, handing to her a liberal amount of the sum.

"Not a s.h.i.+lling, sir, not a s.h.i.+lling," Polly firmly repeated. "I hate to look at it."

"Then would you, my friend, take some reward," continued he, addressing O'Bryan.

"Is it me? not av you were me father, I wouldn't," said the Irishman, with a look of horror. "I know where it came from; bedad I know the very soil it sprouted out of. I'll tell you how it was, sir. You see I was sittin' by myself, and, like an ungrateful blaggard as I am, instead of thankin' the blessed Heavens for the good luck that had fell a-top o' me, what should I do but wish I had a bit o' money, for to dress up my ugly anatomy, when all at once that swadge of temptation dropped on the floor before my very face."

"Don't heed him, sir, he knows not what he talks about," said Polly.

"It is all as I told you, sir. My husband"----

She was interrupted by O'Bryan, who cried, "Here he comes. May I niver stir if he doesn't, skelpin' along the street in a state of disthract.i.tude; by me sowl it's here he's coming, too."

"Yes, I know," said Henry, "he is employed, I believe, by our worthy landlady, to remove our things."

At this moment Tom burst into the room, but on seeing Polly and O'Bryan he stopped short, as if arrested by a lightning stroke. "You here, Polly? have you heard of my crime," he said, wildly: but she restrained him by gently laying her hand upon his arm.

"Yes, Tom," she said, quietly, "I know all about it, and so does this gentleman. I have restored the money."