The Debtor's Daughter CHAPTER 1.
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The year had waned until but a few hours were left. Evening came softly down, and the stars looked forth and sparkled in the cloudless sky. On the street were hundreds of light-hearted pedestrians, young and old; while gayer parties swept fleetly past, inspired by the jingle of merry bells. Within doors were brighter scenes. Family re-unions, social parties, and the gathering together of happy children. We will present one of these scenes to the reader's mental vision.
In the handsomely furnished parlor of a thrifty merchant named Herman Putnam, were assembled as mirthful a little company as could be found in the city. It consisted of the merchant's wife and their children, with their attendants, and one or two near relatives. The oldest child of Mr. Putnam was a boy in his fourteenth year; and the youngest, a bright little fellow of four, still called "the baby." Between these was a daughter named Clara, who was twelve years of age. A happier family of children could hardly be found; nor any in whom their parents had more pleasure.
The children were assembled in the parlor, as had been the custom of their parents on the recurrence of New Year's Eve, for purposes of mirth and festivity. Presents for each were provided; and also an entertainment of ices, fruits and sweets. Plays, music and dancing were introduced, to give zest and variety to the scene of enjoyment.
"For the many blessings that are showered upon us," said the mother, as she gazed upon her happy children, "how deeply should we be thankful! My heart is full tonight."
There was a tremor in her voice, and tears glistened in her eyes.
This was spoken to her husband; who made no answer in words; though he smiled an assent. Had he uttered what was in his heart, he would have given thanks to his own shrewdness, careful dealing and intelligence as a merchant, for the blessings so freely scattered along his way through life.
"Dear children!" murmured the happy mother, as her eyes followed them about the room, lingering now on their beautiful young faces, and now watching their graceful motions as they whirled around each other in the dance. "Dear children! If life were all a sunny time like this! If there were to come no clouds, nor storms, nor winter."
"Why do you think of clouds and storms and winter," asked Mr. Putnam, half chidingly.
"They come to all, in passing through life."
"They will not come to us, I hope," replied the husband, with confidence.
"Why should our flock escape?"
"Because their shepherd is more watchful in guarding them from danger, than the shepherds of many other flocks."
"I do not understand you," said Mrs. Putnam.
"Don't you dear? You are dull tonight," replied the merchant smiling.
"Perhaps I am. But, you will assist my dull ears by an explanation."
"I call myself the shepherd of this flock," said Mr. Putnam, affecting to speak lightly, though he was earnest in his heart. "And I think myself fully able to guard it from the wolves of adversity."
"Oh!"
Mrs. Putnam smiled and shook her head.
"Go on and be happy," said Mr. Putnam. "Enjoy the sunshine, the flowers and the fruits so freely scattered around. Let not your heart be troubled about the future. I will see that no adverse changes come."
"Riches take to themselves wings. So the Bible warns us," returned the wife.
"True. But they fly away from those only who fail to clip or fetter their wings. I have no fear of such a winged demonstration in my coffers."
"I don't like to hear you speak so," returned Mrs. Putnam, seriously. "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof. Whom He will — He sets up, and whom He will — He casts down."
"Your heart is superstitious, dear," said Mr. Putnam. "I do not believe as firmly as you appear to, in the particular interference of Providence in the affairs of men. People lay a great deal of blame at the door of Providence for their misfortunes; when they might with far more propriety, take the blame of it to themselves. I've lived long enough to begin to understand pretty clearly, the theory of success and failure in life. Men make their own external condition. I have made mine by industry, shrewdness and tact; when others were asleep or enjoying themselves, I was thinking, and scheming and working. Suppose I had been careless and unthrifty; would I have grown rich? Certainly not! Understanding, as I do, the means of success; it is not surprising that I should understand how to retain my advantage. Give yourself no trouble on this account, Margaret. All will come out right. Trust me for that."
"You cannot keep away death nor sickness."
"Those are evils against which human foresight may not always guard; and when they come, we must only bear them with Christian fortitude. But why, Margaret, cloud this happy season, by gloomy thoughts. Let us enjoy the present; that is the way to be thankful for all our blessings. Sufficient unto the days, is the evil thereof."
With an effort, Mrs. Putnam sought to dispel the clouds which had come dimly over the bright horizon; and soon the sky was clear again. There was too much contagion in the atmosphere she was breathing, to leave her free from the infection of joy. The shadow fell suddenly, and quickly passed away; like the shadow of a bird upon a sunny stream.
So full of all the good things of life which money could procure, was the lap of this family, that few thoughts went beyond their threshold in sympathy with others who were less favored by worldly fortune. They were happy in and from themselves, and cared nothing for others. So far as Mr. Putnam was concerned, his thought of those who were in poorer circumstances, was mingled with contempt. It was all, in his view — their own fault, and they deserved the evils incident to their condition.
Not far from the residence of Mr. Putnam, were assembled another family; or, rather, a portion of another family — for one was absent, and that one the husband and father. He was a merchant, named Manny Wilkins.
The parlor in which Mrs. Wilkins, sat with her three children, was lit by a single gas lamp, and the little group were seated on a sofa which had been wheeled near to the glowing grate. No entertainment had been prepared for the little ones; there was no music, no dancing, no loud ringing of happy voices; for he whom all loved was absent, and they were not willing to be glad until he returned.
"Why does father stay out so late?" said Grace, the oldest child, who was just entering her thirteenth year.
"I'm sure I cannot tell. He sent word that he would not be home at tea time; but it is nearly nine o'clock now. Business has probably detained him."
"Oh, I wish he would come home! I don't want to go to bed until I kiss him," spoke out little Mary. "I'm so sleepy!"
"I wouldn't sit up any longer, dear," said the mother. "It may be an hour yet before he comes home."
"An hour? oh, that is so long," murmured Edwin, the youngest, who yawned as he spoke. "What keeps him so long?"
In a little while afterwards, Edward, who was only six years old, fell off to sleep and was removed to his bed by the nurse who was called in for the purpose. Mary soon followed, and Grace was left alone with her mother.
Ten o'clock came, and still Mr. Wilkins was absent.
"Where can father be?" said Grace, rising and going to the window, where she stood looking out upon the still thronged street. "I wish he would come home."
"He has some business to attend to, which, no doubt, keeps him later than he wishes to stay," replied the mother. "You had better go to bed, dear. I will remain up until his return."
Grace sat half an hour later with her mother, and then went up to her room. The one they waited for, was still absent. And where was Mr. Wilkins?
In making some hurried estimates during the day, in regard to his business, which was not going on altogether to his satisfaction, the merchant came to a result which startled and alarmed him. When evening fell, instead of returning home as usual, he remained in his counting room alone, and began a series of careful investigations into the state of his affairs. This was continued hour after hour, the time passing unnoted, until he paused over the final result, and heard the clock strike twelve.
"Deceived! Deceived!" he exclaimed in strong agitation, "I had hoped to find some error on the right side; but, none, alas! appears. And is it thus, that I begin the new year? My wife! my little ones! How hard will it be for you! This will be the wormwood in my cup! For myself, I could meet adversity without a fear; but I cannot bear the thought of change for the cherished ones of my pleasant home."
For many minutes the unhappy man leaned his face down upon the desk at which he had been sitting, searching in vain for some way of escape from the approaching disaster; but none was presented.
Mr. Wilkins' losses during the year had been very heavy; still, he believed himself to be perfectly solvent, and able not only to meet all his engagements, but to go on and make up, during the coming year, more than all he had lost in this. But, the actual state of his business, as presented by figures, showed him to be not only crippled, but so much crippled, that it would be impossible to go on for more than a few months longer. For some time, he had found it difficult to make his payments; being forced to borrow a good deal, and also to suffer heavy discounts on paper. Still, he had no suspicion that his affairs were desperate. The certainty that it was so, came upon him like the shock of a heavy blow.
It was past midnight when the merchant reached his home. The instant his wife saw him, she perceived that something was wrong.
"Where have you been so late?" she inquired anxiously.
"At the store," he replied briefly.
"What is the matter? You look pale and troubled. Is anything wrong?"
"Yes, dear," replied Mr. Wilkins, in a low voice. He spoke low that he might not betray his agitation.
"What? What?" eagerly inquired Mrs. Wilkins.
"I find myself, most unexpectedly, in great financial embarrassment."
"My husband!" Mrs. Wilkins laid her hand upon him, and drew instinctively close to his side.
"I have met during the year, with many severe losses; but, though I felt them, I still believed that I had suffered no serious injury. In this, it now appears, I was mistaken. They were too heavy for me, and I am about to be carried under."
"Do not say that, my husband! Hope for a better result than this."
"We cannot hope in the face of the most conclusive evidence. I have this night completed a searching investigation into my business, and the result is, a knowledge of the fact that I am hopelessly insolvent. As painful as all this is, the pain finds tenfold increase in the thought that the consequences will pass from myself to others. If the evil were to be borne alone, I could bear it. But it must fall heaviest upon you and our little ones. Into this dear nest of love will come the hand of the spoiler!"
A strong shudder passed through the frame of Mr. Wilkins, as he said this.
"Do not think of us now," quickly replied his wife, drawing her arm about his neck. "We lack no good in this world beyond what we can share with you. As for myself I can say that,
'Grief divided with your heart,
Were better far than joy apart.'
Our lives are bound up together; and we can be happy under any external condition."
"But our children! What will they lose?"
"They cannot lose our love and care, my dear husband! These make their greatest good."
"But they will lose those advantages which wealth alone can procure. Oh, to see them pushed out from the circle in which we move, and thrust down lower! My heart aches at the thought."
"And may not that thought spring from a weakness? But, do not pain yourself now, by looking at these consequences. Turn yourself to your business, and let all your thoughts center there for the present. This is needful in so great a crisis. Do the best you can without regarding, us. When the end comes, even if all is lost, you will still have a wife and three children to love you, and to keep close by your side, cheerfully treading the path you walk in, even if it is along a rough and desert way."
Mr. Wilkins was touched by the words of his wife. He had expected to see her cast down to the very earth. But, not a tear had come to her eyes; nor had a quivering lip betrayed the sinking spirit.
"God bless you!" said he with emotion, "for such words of encouragement. They come to my sinking heart and bear it above the waters."
"There is one thing for which we can be thankful," replied Mrs. Wilkins. "Adversity will not separate us — but drive us closer together; and, in mutually sustaining each other in the trials through which we may have to pass, we will make them lighter. And now, dear husband! let me say to you, once for all. In your present difficulties, think no more of us. On your head, will come the first shock of tempest, while we are safely shut up at home untouched by its fury. Upon you, must fall the mortification of a blasted credit, so dreadful to a man of right feelings; and still worse, the pain of seeing loss fall upon others, if your property should not prove sufficient to meet your obligations. I can imagine some little of what you will have to suffer in the ordeal which you are about to enter. Would that I could pass through it with you, and bear half the pain."
"My dear wife!" exclaimed Mr. Wilkins, "How my heart blesses you for these words! You will stand by my side in this ordeal, and take away half the pain I would otherwise suffer. Already my failing heart is sustained. The heavy hand that has seemed to press for hours upon my bosom, is no longer there. Let the storm break, I will find shelter."
"Yes, let it come! There is One above who rules the storm; and He will not let it bear upon us too heavily. He cares for our children with a love that is tenderer than our own — and wisdom is the form of that love. Good to them and to us, let us believe — will spring from what now seems evil."
"Talk to me thus," said Mr. Wilkins, "when you see me sinking amid the trials I am about to encounter. It will do me good. It will keep me above the rushing waters."
The heart of the embarrassed merchant beat with even pulses, as he laid his head upon his pillow that night, and the sleep that followed was sweet and refreshing. In the morning, he went forth to meet the good and ill in store for him; and, though his heart faltered at times and trembled, yet his mind did not lose its rational equipoise.
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