Owen's Fortune; Or, "Durable Riches"

"What do you say, Owen?"

The boy smiled. "I did not know I was speaking out loud," he said.

"But what did you say about 'no sorrow'?"

"It was something I heard on Sunday: 'The blessing of the Lord it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it.'"

"Those riches must be worth getting," said Clarice, after a pause, with tears in her eyes. She had long known a deeply unsatisfied feeling in her heart, though no one suspected it; and she herself hardly knew how the uneasiness arose.

"Yes, I think so too," said Owen, as he went on busily with his work.

It was only a few days after this that Mr. Hadleigh called his nephew to him, and said, "Clarice has to go on business for me over to Horley, across the river, and she wants you to go too; so run and change your jacket, and get ready to go with her."

"Thank you, uncle," said the boy, delighted at the prospect of a change. He had never been on the river before, and it was a great charm to him to step on board the little steamer waiting at the pier-head, and start off in the fresh breeze across the river.

"How long will it take us?" he asked his cousin.

"About twenty minutes crossing; then we have to go into the village for father, and take the next boat back."

"How curious it feels; it looks as if the town and pier were moving away."

"Yes, it often does at first; but it is really we who are moving. You will see better when we get farther out into the river."

The shipping and the new sights occupied the boy the whole way across, and Clarice had to answer numberless questions, so that it was not till they had reached the other side, and were walking down a country road to the neighbouring village, that she was able to say, "Do you know why I asked father to let you come to-day?"

"Because you are kind, and wanted me to have a holiday."

"It was not altogether that," said the girl, looking down on the young boy at her side; "I wanted you to tell me more about that 'no sorrow.'"

"Why, I told you all I knew."

"Ah, but how can we get it?"

The boy hesitated. "You must come with me to the mission-hall on Sunday night, and hear the preacher yourself, Clarice. Then you will know all about it."

"I cannot do that; mother would not let me, nor father either, I fear."

"But they let me."

"Yes; but they had a talk about it the first Sunday evening you were gone. Mother said she did not like you to go at all, but father said as long as you did your work well he did not mind where you went on Sundays, as you are a boy. So you really must tell me more, Owen. No one but you can help me."

"I don't know what to tell you. I don't quite understand it myself yet. He said we were to read the Bible and pray, and seek the salvation God offers. He said the Lord Jesus loves us, and wants us to be His children."

"Are you His child?"

"I don't know. I want to be. Father and mother were, and–" the boy stopped.

"I must know more about it," said Clarice, earnestly; "you must listen for yourself and me too, Owen, when you go again, and try to remember all you can to tell me."

When they returned to Barmston, they found Mr. Hadleigh evidently in a bad temper. He was talking very loudly, and seemed considerably annoyed. The moment he caught sight of Owen, he called him to him.

"Didn't you put out that order for Mr. Davenport yesterday? I gave it into your hands."

"Yes, sir, I did it. I weighed out the things, and wrapped them up."

"This comes of trusting to boys," he said, bitterly; "but you seemed different to most. Mr. Davenport has just been in, and says the things never arrived."

"I packed them up all right," said Owen, respectfully, but firmly.

"Whose place was it to take them out?"

"It was David's round."

"Then the matter lies between you and David. Which of you stole the goods?"

"Oh, father!" exclaimed Clarice, "neither of them would do such a thing."

"Well, the goods must be somewhere," he replied, half-ashamed of his hot words. "Norris has often given me hints about the two, David and Owen; he says they are too much together for good."

"I expect Norris is at the bottom of it," said Clarice, eager to defend her young cousin.

"Nonsense. Norris has been with us for years. I would trust him as well as anybody. Owen, you can go to your own room for the present, till I decide what is to be done. Send David to me as soon as he returns."

Poor Owen, it was a sad ending to a pleasant little holiday. Things looked black, but he knew he had done as he was told, and that the goods had been carefully wrapped up, and laid on the counter ready to be taken away. Yet how could he prove it? Norris had seen him weighing the things out, but he had turned against him, and there was no other witness. He sat down by the side of his bed, and wondered what he should do if his uncle sent him to prison. Could he not run away? There were lots of ships about; perhaps he could get work on one of them. But better thoughts prevailed, and at last he sank on his knees, and prayed that some way might be found for him out of his trouble.

Meanwhile David had been questioned, and said that he had never been given anything for Mr. Davenport. He showed his book, stating what houses he had called at, and answered so straightforwardly that Mr. Hadleigh at once acquitted him of all complicity in wrong-doing.

"It is just that nephew of yours, Mr. Hadleigh," said his wife; "a little sneaking fellow, trying to toady himself into your favour by industry, and then returning it in this fashion."

"Owen never did it," said Clarice, decidedly.

"Ah, you always favoured him. You and your father should have believed me, and this would never have occurred," said her mother, sweeping out of the room.

Clarice possessed great influence with her father, so when they were alone, he asked, "Don't you really think it is Owen?"

"No, father, I don't. I am certain he would not do such a thing. His father brought him up too well for that. Things have been missing before he came. If I were you, I should look after somebody else."

Nothing more was said. Business went on as usual till ten o'clock; then the shop was closed, and the family went upstairs to the sitting-room. No one had been near Owen, or had even thought of taking him food, till Clarice suddenly remembered he had had nothing since breakfast; so filling a plate with some bread and butter, and a slice of cold meat, she hastily left the room, unquestioned by her parents.

Owen had fallen asleep, with his head resting against the washstand, and Clarice noticed that there were traces of tears on his face. She touched his arm, and he jumped up in a moment.

"I have brought you something to eat," she said, kindly; "I am so sorry I forgot to do so before; I am afraid you are nearly starved."

"No, it didn't matter; but I am glad to have it now. What is going to be done?" he asked, watching his cousin's face anxiously.

"Nothing can be done to-night. Father wants to find out the truth, of course. I think if we asked God to let it be seen who took the things, He would make it plain."

"I am sure he would if we were His children. But you see we are not." The words were said sorrowfully and slowly.