Married and Single CHAPTER 11.
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It was with a feeling of anxiety which he could not subdue that Trueman looked into the face of his wife and daughter on the next morning. He had no cause for fear or distrust. The only change his eye could detect was a look of tenderer interest. They were both more cheerful than he had seen them for some time, and seemed to vie with each other in their attentions to him. This strengthened his mind.
On the following day, the long-dreaded note would fall due. He could not meet it; that was a settled point in his mind, and he made no effort to do so. But something must be done. If it were suffered to lie over and be protested, there was no telling how it might affect his credit, and thus tend to the destruction of his business. The true course to pursue he found it very hard to determine. At length, with a feeling of reluctance that was almost unconquerable, he called upon the holder of the note, or, rather, upon the individual from whom he had purchased the property for which the note had been given.
After sitting with him for a little while, and conversing about ordinary topics, he said,
"I have called today upon rather unpleasant business."
"What is it?" asked the man, looking grave.
"The last note given on the purchase of that little piece of property I bought from you, falls due tomorrow."
"Does it? I did not know. I passed it away some months since."
"Have you no control over it?"
"None at all."
"I am sorry for that. I am reluctantly compelled to say that it will be utterly out of my power to meet it."
"It will? Why, how comes that, Mr. Trueman? I thought you were getting along about as pleasantly as anybody. You lifted the other notes."
"Yes, but it was hard work. The fact is, I was not able to make that purchase. It has cramped me in my business, and given me more trouble than it is worth."
"You were very anxious to get it."
"So I was; but I didn't really know what I was about. I liked the place so well that I persuaded myself I could easily pay for it. But the result proves that I was mistaken. I have paid three thousand dollars on it, and crippled my business just that sum; and now it is altogether out of the question for me to attempt to lift the last note. I am thus frank with you, because it is right that you should understand exactly how I am situated."
"What is to be done?"
"It is for you to say."
"Oh no."
"I cannot complete my payments on the purchase."
"And cannot, therefore, secure your title to the property?"
"No."
"What then?"
"Yes, that is the question — What then? Who is to answer it?"
"You or I?"
"You, doubtless," said Trueman.
"The note will not be lifted?"
"It is impossible for me to do it. I wish it were not."
"Do you want to retain the cottage?"
"No, not for an hour."
"Oh, well, that puts a new face on the matter. Suppose I buy it back again?"
"From my heart I wish you would."
"On what terms?"
"Such as will best suit yourself."
"But, if I take it again, I cannot rent it to you; its old tenant will want again to come into possession. It was only yesterday that he was scolding me for having sold a place that I had no need of selling, just to gratify your desire to have it. His wife has never been contented since their removal."
"Let him have it. I am sorry the desire to possess what another was enjoying, became so active in my mind as to utterly blind me."
"But how will such a change affect your family?"
"As it does me. We are never divided in opinion or feeling. They will give it up without a sigh."
"If I repurchase on the same terms that I sold, you will not object?"
"Oh no. How could I?"
"Then I must lift that note of yours tomorrow as the cash payment; and, on the relinquishment by you of the provisional title, give you three notes for a thousand dollars each, payable in one, two, and three years."
Trueman grasped the hand of the individual who had so generously released him from his obligation, and said, "You know not what a mountain has been removed from my heart. All will be well with me again. If ever am betrayed into another action so indiscreet, may I suffer a tenfold penalty."
When all this was related at home, both wife and daughter were overjoyed at the happy termination of an affair that had, all unsuspected by them, caused Trueman so much trouble. There were no selfish regrets at the prospect of leaving the pleasant spot — no looking back and lingering — but rather an eagerness to get away from a place, the possession of which had been held at so dear a cost. In the course of a week, a recession of the property into the hands of its original owner took place, and Trueman received three notes of one thousand dollars each, payable in one, two, and three years. These notes, as the drawer was a man of wealth and known integrity, he found no difficulty in getting discounted at the regular rate of interest. At once he was enabled to restore his business to a much more healthy basis, by putting back into it the funds he had used in paying for his house. His borrowed money account was balanced, an account that had given him more trouble than everything else put together.
A comfortable house in the city was rented, and there he moved with his family. A week after their departure from the cottage, and when they had become something like settled, Trueman found himself, one evening after tea, sitting, with a quiet mind, between his wife and daughter. Up to that time, since their removal, the fatigues attendant upon rearranging their furniture and putting their house in order, had left them in no spirits for social fellowship.
"My heart is at ease again," he said, with a tone and smile that could not be mistaken.
"And so is mine," replied Mrs. Trueman. "Notwithstanding our external condition has been, for three years, all my heart could wish — yet never, during that time, have I been without a concern of mind unfelt before. I now understand the reason. You were troubled, and I felt the disturbance, though I knew not certainly whence it came. In something I perceived that you were changed, but wherein that change lay, I could not tell. For months past you have been desponding, and have frequently spoken in a desponding manner. I tried to encourage you to look up and trust in Him whose promises are sure; but my words had little, or only temporary effect. The certain knowledge I now possess, and the changes which that knowledge has produced, are nothing compared to the internal disquiet I daily suffered."
"I would not be back again in that cottage, for all the world could offer," Edith said, warmly. "Whenever I think about our having displaced a family anxious to remain, it gives me much pain. I am truly thankful that they have already returned to the so-much-desired spot. We can be happy anywhere."
"Truly said, Edith. This is a lesson that will do us all good, and me especially. It has taught us practically this fundamental truth, that we are not to seek happiness in mere externalgood things. Whatever natural blessings we are prepared to enjoy, will come in an orderly way; to receive more than these is like possessing goodly vessels, without the wine which they were made to contain. They may please the eye for a time, but can never satisfy the spirit. How wise that law of spiritual life which says, 'You shall not covet.' If obeyed, it protects not only others in the possession of what they have received, as suited to their state and condition — but it prevents each individual who makes it a rule of action, from grasping at that which, if gained, would only make him miserable. Going still farther in its action, it restrains one of those direful forms of selfishness which, if allowed to become active, destroys the soul. For my part, I am satisfied that in this disappointment, resides a merciful Providence."
"I am sure of it," Mrs. Trueman returned. "Every providence is a merciful one which leads us to see and correct our errors."
"Truly said. And the pain we experienced during these severe conflicts is beneficial. It leaves our minds calmer, our perceptions clearer, and our affections less bound down to things of earth with the cords of self-love; at least, this is my experience. Before I bought that cottage, it seemed to me, that if I were only able to own it, I would be perfectly happy. The mere possession of a dwelling suited to my taste, was to satisfy all the aspirations of a heaven-born spirit. In that quiet spot, with those I loved around me, I was to find perpetual peace — springs of water in which to slake immortal thirst — rest for a soul wandering far from its congenial home. But this could not be. And is it not strange that I needed all the severe trials which I have experienced, before I could see this truth clearly? How deeply seated are our false views of life! With what a strange folly do we turn our eyes downward, when bright and beautiful worlds are glittering in the sky above us!"
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