True Riches; Or, Wealth Without Wings

The morning found him something better, but not well enough to sit up. Mrs. Claire had, by this time, recovered in a measure her calmness and confidence. She had thought much, during the sleepless hours of the preceding night, and though the future was far from opening clearly to her straining vision, her mind rested in a well-assured confidence that all things would work together for their good. She knew in whom she trusted. On the Rock of Ages she had built the habitation where dwelt her higher hopes; and the storms of this world had no power to prevail against it.

How little dreamed gentle Fanny Elder—or Fanny Claire, as she was called—when she laid her cheek lovingly to that of her sick "father"—she knew him by no other name—and drew her arms around his neck, that he was suffering alone on her account. In her unselfish love, Claire felt a sweet compensation—while all he endured on her account had the effect to draw her, as it were, into his very heart.

As quickly as it could be done, Mrs. Claire got through with the most pressing of her morning duties, and then, the older children away to school, she came and sat down by her husband's bedside, and took his hand in hers. As he looked into her face, pale from sleeplessness and anxiety, tears filled his eyes.

"O, Edie!" said he, his voice tremulous with feeling, "isn't this disheartening? What are we to do?"

"He careth for us," was the low, calmly spoken reply; and, as Edith lifted a finger upward, a ray of heavenly confidence beamed in her countenance.

"I know, Edie; I know, but"—

The sick man left his sentence unfinished. A heavy sigh marking his state of doubt and darkness.

"We must feel as well as know, Edward," said his wife. "God is good. In looking back through all our past life, does not the retrospection lead to this undoubting conclusion? I am sure you will say yes. Has he not, in every case, proved better to us than all our fears?—Why, then, should we distrust him now? In the beautiful language of Cowper, let us say in these dark seasons—

'Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.'

"Shall we doubt the sun's existence, because the night has fallen? No, dear husband, no! There are bright stars smiling above us in token of his unerring return. We know that the morning cometh after a season of darkness; and so, after our spirits have lingered awhile in the realm of shadows, the light will break in from above. Has it not always been so, Edward?"

"He has led us by a way which we knew not."

The sick man's eyes were closed as he murmured these words; and his voice was slightly tremulous, yet expressive of a returning state of confidence.

"Yet, how safely," replied Edith. "When our feet were in slippery places, and we leaned on Him, did he not support us firmly? and when the mire and clay were deep in our path, did He not keep us from sinking therein?"

"He is goodness itself," said Claire, a calmer expression coming into his face. "It is wrong so to let doubt, distrust, and fear creep in and get possession of the heart; but, we are human—weakness and error are born with us. When the way in which we are walking is suddenly closed up before us, and we see the opening to no other way, how can we keep the faint heart from sinking?"

"Only as Peter was saved from sinking. If we look to God, He will lift our hearts above the yielding billows. If we stand still, hopefully and trustingly, the high mountain before us will become as a plain, so that we can walk on in a smooth way, joyful and rejoicing."

"And so this high mountain, which has risen up so suddenly, will soon be cleft for us or levelled to a plain, if we wait patiently and confidingly for its removal?"

"Oh! I am sure of it, Edward," replied Mrs. Claire, with a beautiful enthusiasm. "We are His creatures, and He loves us with an infinite love. When his children are disposed to trust too much to the arm of flesh, He sometimes shows them their weakness in order that they may feel His strength. Faithfully and unselfishly, my husband, have you tried to meet the suddenly increased demand upon us: and this out of love for one of God's children. In the trial, weakness has prevailed over strength. Suddenly your hands have fallen to your side powerless. God saw it all; and permitted it all; and, in His own good time, will supply, from other sources, all that is really needed. We have the promise—our bread shall be given, and our water sure—not only the natural food that sustains outward life, but the true bread of heavenly affections, and the waters of pure truth, which nourish and sustain the spirit."

Edith ceased speaking. Her husband did not make an immediate reply; but lay pondering her words, and letting his thoughts expand their wings in the purer atmosphere into which she had lifted him.

After that they conversed together hopefully of the future; not that they saw the way more clearly before them, but heavenly confidence had taken the place of human distrust.

It was, perhaps, eleven o'clock in the day—the doctor had been there, and pronounced the condition of his patient favourable, but enjoined quiet and prolonged rest from either bodily or mental exertion—and the mind of Claire was beginning to run again in a slightly troubled channel.

"Here is a letter for you," said his wife, coming into the room, after a brief absence. "A young man just left it at the door."

Claire took the letter, wondering as he did so who it could be from. On breaking the seal, and unfolding it, he was greatly surprised to find within a check to his order for one hundred and fifty dollars, signed Leonard Jasper; and still more surprised to read the accompanying note, which was in these words:

"Enclosed you will find one hundred and fifty dollars, the sum due you for Fanny Elder's maintenance during the past and current quarter. When convenient, I should be glad to see you. Seeing that the child has remained with you so long, I don't know that it will be advisable to make a change now, although I had other views in regard to her. However, when you call, we can settle matters in regard to her definitively."

"Better to us than all our fears," murmured Claire, as he handed the letter to his wife, who read it with a truly thankful heart.

"Our way is smooth once more," she said, smiling through outpressing tears—"the mountain has become a level plain. All the dark clouds have been swept from our sky, and the sun is shining even more brightly than of old."

It was more than a week before Claire was sufficiently recovered to go out and attend to business as usual. At the first opportunity, he called upon Mr. Jasper, who received him with marked kindness of manner.

"I do not, now," said the merchant, "entertain the same views in regard to my ward that I did some time ago. Your opposition to my wishes then, fretted me a good deal; and I made up my mind, decisively, that so soon as she was twelve years of age, you must give her up. It was from this feeling that I acted when I refused to pay your last order. Since then, I have reflected a good deal on the subject; and reflection has modified, considerably, my feelings. I can understand how strong must be the attachment of both yourself and wife, and how painful the thought of separation from a long-cherished object of affection."

"The dread of separation, Mr. Jasper," replied Claire, "has haunted us during the last two years like an evil spirit."

"It need haunt you no more, Edward," was the kindly spoken reply. "If you still wish to retain the care of this child, you are free to do so."

"You have taken a mountain from my heart, Mr. Jasper," was the young man's feeling response.

"It is settled, then, Edward, that she remains with you. And now I must say a word about her education. I wish that to be thorough. She must have good advantages; better than the sum now paid for her maintenance will procure."

Claire made no reply, and Jasper continued—

"I have this to propose. The bulk of property left by her father is contained in two moderate-sized houses, one of which is at this time without a tenant. It is a very comfortable house for a small family. Just the thing, I should say, for you. If you will move into this house, you shall have it rent free, as a set-off to the increased charge Fanny will be to you in future. The three hundred per annum will be paid as usual. How will that do?"

"The compensation, I think, will be greater than the service," replied Claire.

"Not at all. During the next five or six years, or until she gains her majority, you will find the cost of clothing and education a constantly increasing sum. I know more about these things than you do. And I am very sure, since I understand your relation to her, that twice this expenditure, could not gain for her what she will have while in your care. As her guardian, I feel it my duty to provide liberally for her comfort and education, and to this you, of course, can have nothing to object."

And Claire did not object. In a few weeks from that time he removed into one of the houses mentioned by Jasper—a larger and far more comfortable one than that in which he had lived for several years. Here, with a thankful heart, he gathered his wife and children around him. How happy they all were! Not selfishly happy—if such contradictory terms may be used—but happy in the warmth of mutual love. A heaven on earth was this little household. Shall we contrast it with that of Leonard Jasper? No!—the opposite picture would leave upon the reader's mind too sad an impression; and we will not burden this chapter with another shadow.

CHAPTER XVIII

During the five or six following years, a number of events occurred bearing more or less seriously upon some of the actors in our story. With Edward Claire and his family, life had flowed on in an even current; and, but for the fact that his health never fairly recovered from the shock it received in consequence of his having taxed his physical system beyond its capability of endurance, the sunshine would never have been a moment from his threshold.

The important addition made to his income through the new arrangement volunteered by Fanny's guardian, gave to his external condition a more favourable aspect. He was no longer troubled about the ways and means of providing for his needful expenses. A much better situation, so far as a higher salary was concerned, had, during this time offered; but, as it required an amount of confinement and labour which he could not give, without endangering his health, he wisely declined the offer.

Far less smoothly had the current of Leonard Jasper's life flowed on. Twice during this period had he received visits from his old acquaintance, Martin, and each time he was made poorer by five thousand dollars. It was all in vain that he struggled and resisted. The man had no compassion in him. He cared not who suffered loss, so he was the gainer.

There were other miners at work sapping the foundations of Jasper's fortune, besides this less concealed operator. Parker, the young man who succeeded to the place of Claire, and who was afterward raised to the condition of partner, with a limited interest, was far from being satisfied with his dividend in the business. The great bulk of Jasper's means were used in outside speculations; and as the result of these became successively known to Parker, his thoughts began to run in a new channel. "If I only had money to go into this," and, "If I only had money to go into that," were words frequently on his tongue. He regarded himself as exceedingly shrewd; and confidently believed that, if he had capital to work with, he could soon amass an independent fortune.

"Money makes money," was his favourite motto.

Unscrupulous as his partner, it is not surprising that Parker, ere long, felt himself perfectly authorized to use the credit of the house in private schemes of profit. To do this safely, it was necessary to have a friend outside of the firm. Such a friend he did not find it very hard to obtain; and as nearly the whole burden of the business fell upon his shoulders, it was not at all difficult to hide every thing from Jasper.

Confident as Parker was in his great shrewdness, his speculations outside of the business did not turn out very favourably. His first essay was in the purchase of stocks, on which he lost, in a week, two thousand dollars.

Like the gamester who loses, he only played deeper, in the hope of recovering his losses; and as it often happens with the gamester, in similar circumstances, the deeper he played, the more he lost.

And so it went on. Sometimes the young man had a turn of good fortune, and sometimes all the chances went against him. But he was too far committed to recede without a discovery. There was no standing still; and so newer and bolder operations were tried, involving larger and larger sums of money, until the responsibilities of the firm, added to the large cash drafts made without the cognizance of Jasper, were enormous.