The Bunsby papers Part 30

Where's the use in whimpering about it? You've had such a smooth road all your life, that the first rut breaks your axle. Come, don't mind me, Polly!" he went on, suddenly changing to a joyous laugh, and yet somewhat subdued by the tears that now flowed down his wife's pale cheeks; "I don't mean to worry you, but--but you see that I'm a little sprung. Leave me to myself, there's a good girl! Come, kiss me before you go. Ha! ha! I'll make a lady of you yet, Pol! see if I don't.

Didn't you hear me tell you to go to bed?"

"Yes, Thomas, but"----

"But what?"

"Pray, drink no more."

"I'll drink just as much as I please; and, moreover, I won't be dictated to by you, when I can buy your whole stock out, root and branch. I've stood your nonsense long enough, so take my advice and start."

"Oh! Thomas--Thomas!" cried his weeping wife, as she hurried to her little bedroom; "never did I expect this, and you'll be sorry for it in the morning."

"d.a.m.n it! I am an unfeeling savage. Don't cry, Pol!" he shouted after her, as she quitted the room; "I didn't intend to hurt your feelings, and I won't drink any more, there. Say G.o.d bless you before you go in, won't you?"

"G.o.d bless you, dear husband!" said the loving wife.

"That's right, Pol!"

As soon as Tom found himself quite alone, he looked carefully at the fastenings of the doors and windows, and having cleared the little table of its contents, proceeded to examine the interior of the pocket-book. With a tremulous hand and a quick-beating heart, he drew it forth, starting at the slightest sound; tearing it open, he spread the thick bundle of notes before him; the sight seemed to dazzle his eye-sight; his breath became heavy and suffocating; there was more, vastly more, than he had ever dreamed of.

"What do I see?" he cried, while his eyes sparkled with the fire of suddenly-awakened avarice, "tens--fifties-hundreds--I do believe--thousands! I never saw such a sight before. What sound was that? I could have sworn I heard a small voice call out my name. For the first time in my life, I feel like a coward. I never yet feared to stand before a giant! now, a boy might cow me down. Pshaw! it's because I'm not used to handling money."

Again and again, he tried to count up how much the amount was, but grew confused, and had to give it up.

"Never mind how much there is," he cried, at last; "it's mine--all mine! n.o.body saw me; n.o.body knows it: n.o.body--but one--but one!" he continued, looking upward for an instant, and then, clasping his hands together, and leaning his head over the money, he wept bitter tears over his great _Piece of Luck_.

CHAPTER VI.

THE WILL.

At a splendid escritoir Mr. Granite sat, in his own room, surrounded by the luxurious appliances which wait upon wealth, however acquired. The face of the sitter is deadly pale, for he is alone, and amongst his most private papers. He has missed one, upon which the permanence of his worldly happiness hung. Diligently has he been searching for that small sc.r.a.p of paper, which contained the sentence of death to his repute. Oh! the agony of that suspense! It could not have been abstracted, for it was in a secret part of his writing-desk; although by the simplest accident in the world it had now got mislaid; yet was he destined not to recover it. In hastily taking out some papers, it had dropped through the opening of the desk, which was a large one, upon the carpet, where it remained, unperceived. In the midst of his anxious and agonized search, there was a knock at the door, and even paler and more heart-broken than the merchant himself, Sterling tottered into the room.

"Well, my good Sterling," said the merchant, with a great effort stifling his own apprehension, "I am to be troubled no more by that fellow's pitiful whinings. I was a fool to be over-persuaded; but benevolence is my failing--a commendable one, I own--but still a failing."

"I am glad to hear you say that, sir, for you now have a great opportunity to exercise it."

"Ask me for nothing more, for I have done"--interrupted Granite; fancying for an instant that he might have placed the missing doc.u.ment in a secret place, where he was sometimes in the habit of depositing matters of the first importance, he quitted the room hurriedly.

"Lost! lost, for ever! I have killed the son of my old benefactor!"

cried Sterling. "He can't recover from the shock--nor I--nor I! my heart is breaking--to fall from such a height of joy into such a gulf of despair--I, who could have sold my very life to bring him happiness." At that moment his eye caught a paper which lay on the carpet, and with the instinct of a clerk's neatness solely, he picked it up and put it on the table before him. "The crime of self-destruction is great," he continued, "but I am sorely tempted.

With chilling selfishness on one side, and dreadful misery on the other, life is but a weary burden." Carelessly glancing at the paper which he had taken from the floor, he read the name of Travers; he looked closely at it, and discovered that it was an abstract of a will.

Curiosity prompted him to examine it, and his heart gave one tremendous throb, when he discovered it to bear date after the one by which Henry, in a fit of anger, was disinherited by his father.

The old man fell upon his knees, and if ever a fervent, heartfelt prayer issued from the lips of mortal, he then prayed that he might but live to see that great wrong righted.

He had but just time to conceal the paper within his breast, when Granite returned.

"You here yet?" he cried. "Have I not done enough to-day? What other beggarly brat do you come suing for?"

"For none, dear sir," said Sterling. "I would simply test that benevolence, of which you spoke but now--the money which you sent to Travers"----

"Well, what of it?"

"I have lost!"

"Pooh! old man," continued the other, contemptuously, "don't think to deceive me by such a stale device; that's a very old trick."

"You don't believe me?"

"No."

"After so many years!" cried the old man, with tear-choked utterance.

"The temptation was too much for you," bitterly replied the merchant.

The old leaven exhibited itself once more. "You remember"----

"Silence, sir!" cried the old man, drawing up his aged form into sudden erectness, while the fire of indignation illumined his l.u.s.treless eye.

"The majesty of my integrity emboldens me to say that, even to you--your cruel taunt has wiped out all of feeling that I had for you--fellow-sinner, hast thou not committed an error also?"

"Insolent! how dare you insinuate?"

"I don't insinuate; I speak out; nay, not an error, but a _crime_. I _know_ you have, and can prove it."

"Away, fool! you are in your dotage."

"A dotage that shall wither you in your strength, and strip you of your ill-bought possessions," exclaimed the old man, with nearly the vigor of youth; "since Humanity will not prompt you to yield up a portion of your _stolen_ wealth, Justice shall force you to deliver it all--aye, all!"

"Villain! what riddle is this?" cried Granite, with a vague presentiment that the missing paper was in some way connected with this contretemps.

"A riddle easily solved," answered Sterling. "Behold its solution, if your eyes dare look at it! A will, devising all the property you hold to Henry Travers! There are dozens who can swear to my old employer's signature. Stern, proper justice should prompt me to vindicate his son's cause; yet, I know that he would not purchase wealth at the cost of your degradation. Divide equally with him, and let the past be forgotten."

There was but one way that Granite could regain his vantage-ground, and he was not the man to shrink from it.

With a sudden bound, he threw himself upon the weak old clerk, and s.n.a.t.c.hing the paper from him, exclaimed--

"You shallow-pated fool! think you that you have a child to deal with?

The only evidence that could fling a shadow across my good name would be your fragment of miserable breath, which I could take, and would, as easily as brush away a noxious wasp, but that I despise you too entirely to feel your sting. Go, both of you, and babble forth your injuries to the world! go, and experience how poor a conflict starveling honesty in rags can wage against iniquity when clad in golden armor! I defy ye all! Behold how easily I can destroy all danger to myself, and hope to him at once." So saying, he held the paper to the lamp, and, notwithstanding the ineffectual efforts of Sterling to prevent it, continued so to hold it until a few transitory sparks were all that remained of Henry Travers's inheritance.

Sterling said not a syllable, but, with a glance at the other, which had in it somewhat of inspiration, pointed upward, and slowly staggered from the room.

CHAPTER VII.