Nothing but Money! CHAPTER 20.
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Reconciliation and compromise were not the means by which Adam Guyton sought to gain any of his ends. Avarice is cruel and pitiless, and guards its treasure in the spirit of atiger with its whelps. It feels that every approaching footsteps heralds an enemy, and crouches on the alert, always, ready for assault or defense. No matter how weak, or harmless, or innocent the intruder — the talon is surely bared to receive him. It cannot think unselfishly — has no kindness, no mercy, no generous consideration. All mankind is its enemy. There is no scruple in avarice — only fear of consequences. Whatever stands in the way of its ends, or obstructs as to the means — must be removed if within the bounds of a safe possibility. It tramples on hearts as if they were stones in the street — and is as unmoved by tears, as by the falling of a summer rain.
Such is avarice, and such was Adam Guyton. The state of his wife's mind annoyed him, for it was an obstruction. But, it was never once suggested, that this mind was falling into disease requiring the most skillful treatment. Her strange conduct, instead of awakening concern for her reason — irritated him. He was angry towards her — not tender and pitiful. Thus, his treatment still hurt and alienated the unhappy woman. The sentence, "Putting on airs," fitly expressed Adam Guyton's appreciation of his wife's conduct. He saw no deeper than that. Avarice made him blind as to any true perception of another's state — more particularly if that state was the result of his action upon the individual.
This sudden giving up of care and responsibility by Mrs. Guyton, acted, as we might infer, very unfavorably on herself and family. She fell into a listless, dreamy, wretched state of mind; sometimes weeping in her room for hours; sometimes lying in bed, refusing to answer any questions, or taking food, for whole days; and sometimes wandering about the house, seemingly bent on accomplishing something, and yet doing really nothing. Left almost entirely to the servants, the children did pretty much as they pleased, and soon set all of their mother's occasional feebly exerted authority at defiance. Henry, the oldest boy, acting under instructions of his father, came daily more and more into the office ofadministrator in household affairs. He received a certain sum of money regularly, and kept an account of expenses, which was nightly examined by his father, and the cash on hand ascertained, to see if it agreed with the balance shown in the accounts. All this was far more satisfactory to Mr. Guyton than the previous "loose way of managing things," as he called his wife's mode of disbursing money.
Mrs. Guyton, who never set that value upon money which it possessed in the eyes of her husband, had been in the habit of giving pennies now and then to the children. Henryhoarded, while John spent everything that came into his hands — spent it all for himself. Henry was a selfish miser, and John a selfish spendthrift.
The new order of things, naturally tended to bring in among the children new causes of strife. Henry, instead of their mother, had the home distribution of money, and in him they found no generous friend. Not a single penny went to them from the closely drawn purse, while many a piece of silver, falsely charged out in the book of expenses, found its way into Henry's money-box! Complaints to their father met with no encouragement. His answer was, that they had enough to eat and drink, and stood in no need of money to spend. Spending was a bad habit, and never should be encouraged by him. Henry took sides with his father against the other children — and so they learned to look upon him as an enemy, and to hate him as such.
John, next in years to Henry, was as strong-willed, and as dishonorable at heart as his brother. This sudden cutting off of supplies was a thing to which he was not disposed to submit. He had a mania for spending as decided as Henry's mania for saving, and the means of its gratification must be attained. Up to this time he had enjoyed, through his mother, legitimate means. These being cut of, his thought turned itself in another direction. Henry had a purse, always well supplied with money — the family purse; and John reasoned, that he had rights in that family purse. So, he determined to help himself, at the first opportunity. But no daytime opportunities came. Henry guarded his trust with unwearied fidelity. Money was too precious a thing, in his eyes, to be left a moment unwatched.
John soon saw that only one chance was left. He must finger the purse while Henry slept. So, he kept himself awake one night, until his brother's hard breathing satisfied him that he was in the world of forgetfulness. Then he crept out of bed, and taking the purse from Henry's pocket, abstracted half a dollar, which he placed in one of his pockets.
In making up his accounts on the next day, previously to submitting them to his father, Henry discovered the deficit, and was greatly exercised in mind thereat. The cause was not for a moment suspected. After trying in vain to remember some unrecorded expenditure, he went boldly past the difficulty. Whenever he yielded to temptation, and dropped a coin into his private money-box, the account was made to agree with the balance of money on hand by an entry of some imaginary purchase of sugar, coffee, eggs, or potatoes. This safe method of adjustment came in, naturally, on the present occasion. "Apples" bore one half of John's sin, and "eggs" the other, and the boy went free of all suspicion.
John had a friend in the neighborhood, with whom he passed a great deal of the time not spent in school; and the two lads managed to devour as much cake, candy, and fruit, as the stolen half dollar would buy. Had the money come fairly into the possession of John, he would have shared with nobody. As it was, he felt like transferring a measure ofresponsibility. Not that he reasoned on the subject — only a blind instinct of safety influenced him, which was as likely to lead into the way of discovery as concealment.
Night found John's pocket empty. The half dollar had melted, under his own and his companion's greedy appetites, like snow in the sunshine. The means of replenishing that empty pocket were again at hand. Not a word in regard to the first abstraction, had been said by Henry, and it was the natural conclusion of John's mind, that it had not been discovered. So, he resolved to take a second step in this guilty direction. After they were in bed, he kept himself awake as on the night before; but Henry seemed as little inclined to sleep as himself. In fact, the loss of that half dollar was troubling him. He could not make it out. A dozen times had he gone over, in his mind, the expenditures of the day — but the missing sum could not be accounted for.
"Henry," said John, after lying still for half an hour, listening in vain for the deep breathing by which he had made him self satisfied of Henry's state of oblivion on the night before.
Henry heard — but, from sheer perverseness refused to answer.
"Henry," John spoke again.
But no motion or sound came from his brother.
"Henry." This time John pushed him, gently. But Henry lay as still as a log, though with every sense on the alert. Why was John lying awake so long? — and why did he speak to him in that hushed way? The very tone of his brother set his thought to questioning, and as the half dollar was pressing on his mind, a suspicion flashed through it. Instead of answering, he mumbled a few words incoherently, like one disturbed in profound sleep, and then commenced breathing in a heavy way.
John, deceived by this, waited a few minutes, and then got quietly out of bed. The room was dark — but light enough came in from the stars for Henry's cat-like eyes to see every movement of his brother. It was impossible for him to wait until the purse, in which he carried the household funds, was opened. Enough, that the hand of John was in the pocket where the treasure lay. Out upon him he sprang, exclaiming —
"So I've caught, you, John! Aha!"
John was, for an instant, in dismay. The trousers he had taken from a chair, fell to the floor, the purse still in its place. But he rallied himself, as he threw Henry off, replying with affected anger and scorn,
"Aha, what?"
"Thief! Robber! You stole half-a-dollar last night!"
"It's a lie!" answered John, boldly.
"I'll tell father all about this in the morning, Mister; and he'll make you smart! I wouldn't be a sneaking thief!"
"If you say thief again, I'll knock you over!"
"Thief!" — Henry hissed back into his brother's face, who struck him in blind passion! Henry was oldest and strongest; but about John, when excited, there was a wild desperation, that, on the first outbreak, bore down all resistance. The blow with which his blow was answered, aroused him to fury, and flinging himself upon Henry he drove him backwards upon a chair over which he fell with a loud noise, and a louder outcry. This brought Mr. Guyton, not yet in bed, to the scene of trouble.
"What's all this about?" he demanded in angry tones, as he pushed open the chamber door, and let the light from a passage lamp stream inward.
"He called me a thief," answered John, getting in the first defense.
"And so you are!" replied Henry, boldly. "You stole a half dollar out of my pocket last night, and — "
"It's a lie!" fiercely retorted John.
"It's the truth," persisted Henry, "and I caught you in the very act of robbing my pocket again tonight."
"Is that so?" demanded Mr. Guyton, a cruel sternness in his voice.
"Yes, sir. It is so."
"It's a lie!"
"Silence, sir!" Mr. Guyton raised his hand.
"Indeed, father, it isn't true." John's voice changed to one of piteous denial.
"Henry, I want the truth of this matter," said Mr. Guyton, turning to his oldest son. "You say that John took half-a-dollar out of your pocket last night."
"Yes, sir."
"No, sir. I didn't."
"Silence, I say! And you caught him at your pocket again tonight?"
"Yes, sir. I missed half-a-dollar this morning; and tonight I kept awake for a good while after I went to bed. I thought John was asleep, for he breathed as if he was, when he called me. I didn't answer. Then he called me again, and pushed me. But I kept still, and pretended I was asleep. After awhile, he crept softly out of bed, and I watched him go to my trousers and begin looking for the pocket. At this I darted out on him and he struck me in the face."
Mr. Guyton waited to hear no more. Henry's story was fully credited. John tried to explain that he had a cold, and was after his pocket handkerchief; but his father caught him with a vice-like grip and gave him a terrible flogging.
"You stole the money yourself, and lied me into a beating," said John, sobbing from pain, as he crept back into bed after his father had left the room. "But I'll fix you for it, see if I don't!"
"Fix away! Nobody cares for you!" retorted the hard-hearted Henry. "If I'd been father, I'd have given you twice as much!"
Thus they snarled at each other like two wild animals until sleep overcame them, and both sunk away into that oblivion of outward things that comes as a blessing to old and young — to the evil and the good — to the conscience-clear and the innocent.
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