Rich Enough Part 3

All went on with wonderful rapidity; story rose upon story, till it seemed as if the new manufactory, with its windows and abutments, was destined to become another Babel. When Charlotte came to Clyde, she gazed with astonishment. "All this," said she to Howard, "is the project of a speculator! Grown men now-a-days remind me of the story of the boy who planted his bean at night, and went out in the morning to see how it grew; he found it had nearly reached the chamber windows; he went out the next morning, and it was up to the eaves of the house; on the third morning, it had shot up to the clouds, and he descried a castle, or a manufactory, I don't know which, on the top of it. Then it was high time to scale it; so up, up, he went, and when he arrived at the building, he put his foot into it, and then he perceived it was made of vapor; and down came bean, castle, and boy, headlong, in _three seconds_, though it had taken _three whole days_ to complete the work."

"You must tell your story to my brother," said Howard.

"No," replied Charlotte; "he would not profit by it; but I will tell it to my children, and teach them to train their beans in the good old-fashioned way, near the ground."

Thus pa.s.sed the autumn at Clyde; that period which every reflecting mind enjoys as a season of contemplation; that period when our New England woods a.s.sume every variety of color, and shine forth with a splendor that indicates decay. Still the two families had much enjoyment together; the health of Frances and little Charlotte had decidedly improved; but when the leaves began to fall, and the wind to whistle through the branches, they quitted Clyde and returned to the city. Their new house was not ready for them, and they were obliged to take lodgings at one of the hotels.

Mr. Draper met Dr. B., their friend and physician, in his walks, and begged him to call and see his wife. "I rejoice to say," said he, "that her health does not require any medical advice; she is quite well."

Probably Dr. B. thought otherwise, for he suggested the advantage that both she and the little girl might derive from pa.s.sing the winter in a warm climate. Never was there a fairer opportunity; they had no home to quit, and their residence at a hotel was one of necessity, not of choice.

But Mr. Draper said it was quite impossible. What! leave his counting- room, State Street, India Wharf, the insurance offices! leave all in the full tide of speculation, when he was near the El Dorado for which he had so long been toiling! when Eastern lands and Western lands, rail-roads and steam-boats, cotton, and manufactories, were in all their glory; when his own Clyde Mills were just going into operation! It was impossible, wholly impossible; and Frances would not go without him. The suggestion was given up, and she remained in the city almost wholly confined to the atmosphere of a small room with a coal fire. Unfortunately the measles appeared among the children at the hotel, and Mrs. Draper's were taken sick before she knew that the epidemic was there. They had the best attendance, but nothing supersedes a mother's devotion. Frances pa.s.sed many a sleepless night in watching over them. With the eldest the disorder proved slight, but it was otherwise with the youngest; and when she began to grow better, the mother drooped. It was a dreary winter for poor Mrs. Draper, but not so for her husband. Never had there been a season of such profits, such glorious speculations! Some _croakers_ said it could not last; and some of our gifted statesmen predicted that an overwhelming blow must inevitably come. But all this was nothing to speculators; it certainly would not arrive till after _they_ had made their millions.

Spring approached, with its uncertainty of climate; sometimes, the streets were in rivers, and the next day frozen in ma.s.ses; then came volumes of east wind. Mrs. Draper's cough returned more frequently than ever, and Charlotte looked too frail for earth. The physician informed Mr. Draper that he considered it positively necessary to remove the invalids to a milder climate, and mentioned Cuba. Mr. Draper, however, decided that an inland journey would be best, and, inconvenient as it was, determined to travel as far as some of the _cotton-growing_ states.

After the usual busy preparations, they set off, the wife fully realizing that she was blighting in the bud her husband's projected speculations for a few weeks to come, and feeling that he was making what he considered great sacrifices.

Almost all invalids who have travelled on our continent in pursuit of uniformity of climate, have been disappointed. At New York they were detained a week by a flight of snow and rain, shut up in dreary rooms; then came a glimmering of sunshine, and Philadelphia looked bright and serene; but at Baltimore the rain again descended. They were so near Washington, Mr. Draper thought it best to hurry on, with every precaution for the invalids. At Washington, they found the straw mattings had superseded woollen carpets, and the fire-places were ornamented with green branches. They continued their journey south till they at length arrived at Charleston. Here they found a milder climate, and a few days of sunshine. Mr. Draper was no longer restless; he had full employment in shipping cargoes of cotton, and making bargains, not only for what was in the market, but for a proportion of that which was yet to grow, as confidently as if he had previously secured the rain and sunshine of heaven. There is a constant change of weather on our coast--another storm came on. The little invalid evidently lost rather than gained.

Discouraged and disheartened, Frances begged they might return. "One week at Clyde, where they might have the comforts of home, would do more for them," she said, "than all this fruitless search for a favorable climate." When Mr. Draper had completed his bargains, he was equally desirous to return to the city, and at the end of a tedious journey, over bad roads in some parts of it, rail-roads in others, and a tremendous blow round Point Judith, the travellers arrived at Boston on one of those raw, piercing, misty days, that seemed to have been acc.u.mulating fogs for their reception. The physician hastened their departure to Clyde, as it was inland and sheltered from the sea. This removal was made, and then they had nothing to do but to get well. Howard and Charlotte were rejoiced at the reunion, and the feeble little invalid tried to resume her former sports with her cousins. But all would not answer, and when June came on, with its season of roses, she slept at the foot of the mount. It was a retired spot that the mother selected for the remains, and only a temporary one, for they were to be removed to Mount Auburn at the close of autumn.

It were well if we could receive the events of Providence in the sublime simplicity with which they come, but the sensitive and tender-hearted often add to their poignancy by useless self-reproach. Frances thought the journey had, perhaps, been the cause of the child's untimely death, and lamented that she had not opposed a measure which she had undertaken solely for its benefit. The death of friends is a calamity that few have not strength enough to bear, if they do not exaggerate their sufferings, by imagining that something was done, or left undone, for which they were responsible. To this nervous state of feeling Frances was peculiarly liable, from her ill health; and it was many weeks before her excellent powers of mind obtained full exercise. Yet they finally triumphed, and she became first resigned, then cheerful. The sorrow of the father was of a different character, and exhausted itself in proportion to its violence. It was followed by new projects and new antic.i.p.ations; the manufactory had succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations. A discovery had been made that enabled them to afford their cloth a cent per yard cheaper than any other manufacturing establishment. Bales of cotton poured in upon him from the south, and ships arrived from various parts of the world. How could he find time for grief!

CHAPTER IV.

The first visit Frances made to the lake after her return, discovered to her, that it was sadly changed. It was no longer full to overflowing, but swampy and low; the water was constantly drained off to supply the manufactory and mills which were erected at a distance. Mr. Draper had found out that the little stream could much more than earn its own living, and it was made to work hard. One thing, however, was wanting to complete his Clyde speculations, and that was a rail-road. This had now become necessary. Every thing afforded the greatest facility for it.

Laborers could be procured from the village and farms in the vicinity.

Yet how could he reconcile his wife to it? The road must pa.s.s through the hill, and near the house. He was aware that it would destroy the rural beauty of the place; but what an increase of wealth it would be!

what a princely revenue! what a spirit of business and speculation it would spread through the country! Every man would be able not only to make the most of his capital, but to get credit to ten times its real amount. He considered it a public benefit, and he was imperiously called to accomplish it; and so he stated the matter to his wife with as much tenderness towards her feelings as the case would admit.

"I hoped," said she, "that the sum of your public benefits was completed by our sacrifice in the city."

"That is not spoken with your usual generous feeling, Frances," replied he. "When are patriotic exertions to cease? Are we not called upon to be constantly making them?"

"Howard would say it is injuring the cause of the country to turn agriculturists into speculators," said Frances.

"Howard is an excellent man," replied Mr. Draper; "he is born to be a farmer, and nothing else. I have no wish to change his vocation; he dignifies it by uniting intelligence with manual labor; but there are many who are toiling merely for money, and they can get much more by my method than his."

"Will their happiness be increased?" said Mrs. Draper.

"Certainly, inasmuch as wealth procures the means of happiness."

"Have _you_ found it so?" again asked Frances.

"Not precisely. I am still toiling; my season for rest and enjoyment has not arrived."

"And yet," said Frances, "Howard is _rich enough_ for enjoyment. You have already a great estate; let me ask, what advantage you derive from it beyond your daily meals? You take care of this immense property; you are continually increasing it, and all the compensation you get is a _bare living_. Would any of the clerks you employ in your counting-room labor for such low wages?"

"My dear Frances," said Mr. Draper, affectionately, "I am always contented to admire your ingenuity without combating your arguments.

Perhaps it might be better, if you had cultivated a little more of the _rationale_ of life."

"Well," replied she, languidly smiling, "I am going to prove to you, that I have profited by your example, and am becoming a business wife. You call this farm _mine_, and tell me you bought it for me?"

"Certainly; all I have is yours."

"I claim no t.i.tle to any thing but this; but this I consider your gift, and as such accept it."

Mr. Draper certainly did not look delighted at this unexpected statement, and began to tremble for his rail-road; but he remained silent.

"You have undoubtedly greatly increased the actual value of Clyde Farm, by mills and manufactories?"

"Certainly I have; but all is in a manner useless without the rail-road as a means of transportation: that will put every thing into complete operation, and make the revenue princely."

"Then," said Frances, "I can have no hesitation in making my offer. I will sell this place to you for what you gave for it. Secure the sum to me outright, and I renounce my t.i.tle to Clyde Farm. Make it, if you please, wholly a manufacturing place; do not consult me whether there shall be rail-roads or mills."

"Upon my word," said Mr. Draper, "with an estate like mine, I should be mortified to make such a paltry purchase of my wife. It is for you and our only child that I am acc.u.mulating a fortune. Have you ever found me sordid or tenacious of money, that you wish a certain sum secured to you?"

"Never," said she with emotion; "all that money can purchase, you have been most liberal in procuring me. Would that you were as generous to yourself!"

"We all have our own ideas of happiness," said Mr. Draper; "but since it is your wish, Frances, I will close with your proposal, and secure to you twenty thousand dollars, which is a little more than I paid for Clyde Farm. Legal instruments shall be immediately drawn up; and to convince you that I wish for no control over that sum, I will have it put in trust."

"Let the instrument be so worded," said Frances, "that it shall revert to our child at my death."

"As you please," said Mr. Draper, coldly; "it is all the same to me."

CHAPTER V.--CONCLUSION.

From this time, Clyde Farm became wholly a place of business. No regard was now paid to the beauty of the place. Iron-manufactories, nail-manufactories, and saw-mills, were projected, and all was hurry and bustle. One more pang, however, remained for Frances. The sequestered nook she had selected, where her little Charlotte's remains were deposited,--that spot, so still, so tranquil, so shaded by trees, and so sheltered by valleys, so removed apparently from the tumult of business,--over that very spot, it was found necessary for the rail-road to pa.s.s! Strange as it may seem, the worldly father appeared to feel more deeply this innovation than the mother.

Twice he repaired to the spot to give his directions for the removal of the remains, and twice an impetuous burst of sorrow drove him from it.

"It is only a temporary resting-place, even for the body," said Frances; "the spirit is not there." She looked calmly on, and gave those directions for which the father was unable.

Another winter was now advancing, and the house in the city was ready for occupancy. Mrs. Draper made her preparations to return, but they were often interrupted by a pain in her side. The cough had entirely changed its character; it was now deep and hollow. She certainly looked remarkably well; her complexion seemed to have recovered the delicacy and transparency of early youth, and her eyes their l.u.s.trous brightness. As for the color of her cheek, her husband sometimes playfully accused her of extracting rouge from her carnations.

Charlotte spoke to him doubtingly of his wife's health, and Lucy said she "was afraid she would not stand the frosty nights when they came on." But Mr. Draper was sanguine that Clyde had been her restoration.

When she arrived at the city, there were arrangements to be made, and new furniture to be procured. Her husband gave her full permission to do just as she pleased, only begged of her not to call upon him, for he had not one moment to spare.

Frances exerted all her strength, but it became evident that she drooped.

Her nights were restless; and though some thought it encouraging, that she coughed so much _stronger_, it was exhausting to her frame.

Mr. Draper at length perceived that she had rather lost than gained; he went for her physician, and requested him to recommend quiet to her. "I think," said he, "she has over-fatigued herself."