The Debtor's Daughter CHAPTER 12.
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The feeble objections urged by Grace's husband to her plans for the future, were all overruled. To his exhausted system, strength came back slowly, until it gained a certain point, and then there was little visible progression. It was three full months from the time he came home, prostrate from over-work, before he was able to go out again, and then a walk of only a few squares so overcame him, that he did not, for days, regain what he lost by the effort.
It was indeed a hard trial for him to see the wife he so tenderly loved, and for whom all possible sacrifices would have been light, assume the task of sustaining the family by her own exertions. But, before long, she made him half-forget, in the cheerful and willing spirit manifested, that she was bearing the burdens he would so gladly have assumed, if strength for the task had been given.
When Grace was ready to take pupils, twelve young ladies were placed under her care, to receive instruction in certain branches of education. The price to be paid was fixed, rather by the parents than by the teacher, at one hundred and fifty dollars a year. The wish was to keep the school as select as possible. Twenty pupils was the limit agreed upon, and, in less than three months her class was full.
The task assumed by Grace was no light one; but, it is the strength of our purposes which sustains and renders us unconscious of the great burdens we sometimes bear. A willing and cheerful spirit, united to a high and vigorous purpose, made the task, though difficult in reality — seem easy to the young wife and mother. She was toiling for those she loved, and love made light, the work upon which she had entered.
When Herman Putnam went down, after a desperate struggle to keep above the waters — the wreck of his fortune was complete. A man without sympathy for others, and hard in all his dealings with the unfortunate, now that his evil days grew near — none were found to care for or sympathize with him, in the troubles by which he was surrounded. Without a feeling of pity, his creditors seized upon all that was available, even going into his house and appropriating to their own use, the most valuable part of his furniture.
Literally stripped of everything, and cast out from the community of merchants among whom he had moved for years with a proud and self-sufficient dignity, the poor debtor — for he was now a deeply involved debtor, his property not paying by a large sum, the amount of claims against him — shrank away humbled, broken-spirited and almost in despair, with his wife and daughter clinging to him as helpless and despairing as himself.
For two years before these events, there had been little fellowship between the two families of the father and son. The mother and sister of Ralph, for a time after his marriage with Grace, visited him and his lovely young wife frequently. But, becoming aware of this, Mr. Putnam showed a violence of anger, and indulged in such strong language, that it was deemed best, on the part of Clara and her mother, to visit Grace only at distant intervals, and then to conceal from him entirely the fact of their having done so. The breachbetween Ralph and his father was not, therefore, healed. In fact, they had neither met nor spoken to each other for years. When his son's failure was mentioned to Mr. Putnam, he merely answered, in a growling voice —
"I've troubles enough of my own to bear!"
"He is very ill," was answered.
"Don't talk to me about him!" angrily and impatiently replied the father.
As he would not bear the mention of Ralph's name, the first shock of misfortune not having in the least softened his obdurate feelings, he was not made acquainted with the fact of his extremely dangerous condition, nor of the failure of his system to rally, after the violence of the disease from which he had suffered, was abated. Nor did he know how the form of Ralph's true-hearted wife had been interposed between him and the tempest, that he scarcely felt the rush of the passing storm.
No man is really so poor, as he whose chief ability to make his way in the world, lies in his knowledge of the means of using money in trade — that is, when he is stripped of everything, and financially embarrassed beyond the hope of extrication. Such was the condition of Herman Putnam. Advanced in years, penniless, and without a knowledge of any trade, art, or calling by which, in serving society, he could get even a small income in return for his labor — he found himself suddenly reduced to a simple dependence upon his own personal efforts. But, what could he do? He had shown no real friendship for anyone, and now he had no friends.
When Mr. Wilkins failed — Wilkins, his despised, persecuted, and almost hated debtor — there were dozens to feel an interest in him, and to step forward to place him in a comfortable position where he remained for life. But, from Mr. Putnam, all turned away. He had, really, repulsed all — while he seemed to attract all. And when his money, the only attractive thing there had been about him, was scattered to the winds — there were none to come to his aid.
A few months from the time of Mr. Herman Putnam's failure, sufficed to bring the extremity he had so dreaded from the first moment of his fall, when his heart shrunk with an instinctive sense of weakness. With a hundred or two dollars in his pocket — all he possessed in the world — Mr. Putnam had gathered together the poor remnant of furniture left after the creditors had taken all they thought worth having, and hid himself away with his wife and daughter in a small house far in the suburbs of the city. Occasionally, his restless spirit and anxiety for the future, would drive him forth, and he would find his way to some of the old familiar places; and even approach some former business acquaintance with a humble application for procuring employment. Coldness to him, was the same as repulse, and drove him back again to his obscure abode — and all such applications were coldly received. No one pitied him — no one felt an interest in him. Desperate at length grew his circumstances. His money was all expended, and yet he could get nothing to do.
The near approach of poverty, strips man of his false pride and self-consequence. Gladly would Mr. Putnam have accepted of any employment, even the most humble and laborious, in order to procure things necessary for his family. The health of his wife had suffered much of late, and was now so poor that exertion on her part was next to impossible; and, as for Clara, what could she do? What ability had she to serve others in useful work, and thus earn even a pittance?
So entire was the separation between the two families, that, since the disasters by which they were prostrated, the one knew nothing of the condition of the other! The health of Ralph continued so feeble, and his spirits so poor in consequence, that he took no interest in anything beyond his own little circle; and he did not happen to meet with anyone who knew how extreme were the circumstances of his father's family. As for Grace, her new duties were so arduous and absorbing, as to require the concentration of all her thoughts. One day a lady, whose daughter was in her school, said to Grace —
"I heard something today which pained me very much."
Grace looked at her enquiringly, and she continued.
"I am told that your husband's father is in the utmost extremity. That, in fact, his family are in need of the common necessaries of life. Can this be really so?"
"I am as ignorant in regard to them as yourself." replied Grace. "But, surely, there must be some mistake!"
"My informant was positive about the matter."
"Do you know where they are?"
"I do not. But I can learn."
"Can you do so immediately?"
"Yes."
"I will send to your house as early as you think you can get information," said Grace, her manner evincing much concern.
"You may send in an hour," returned the lady.
News so painful deeply distressed the mind of Grace. Her first thought was to mention the subject to her husband; but, on reflection, she deemed it best not to disturb his mind, too ready to feel excitement and to suffer therefrom.
But, how was she to afford the help so much needed? If she approached her father-in-law, who, in all his better days had rejected her with anger — would not his pride reject her still? Long and earnestly, did she dwell upon the matter. Oh, how gladly would she now effect, if possible, a reconciliation! How gladly would she receive them all into her own household, and provide for them, by her own labor, every comfort they needed.
On that very day, Mr. Herman Putnam had gone to an old merchant with whom he had done business for years, and almost begged him for some kind of employment.
"I am in great extremity," said he. "Will you not interest yourself for me?"
The merchant shook his head coldly. The application disturbed him, and he wished to get rid of one in whom he now felt no interest. "I can't get you anything to do," said he.
"I will accept even the humblest situation," urged Mr. Putnam, "and the most moderate compensation."
Another gentleman came in at the moment, and the merchant turned, indifferently from Mr. Putnam, and entered into conversation with the new-comer. The unhappy man stood for a few moments, and then moved away slowly and left the store.
There had come a point of extremity. Since the little money possessed by the family, when they moved to their humbler abode, had been exhausted, one little article after another of personal ornament had been sold, and the things useful that could be spared, parted with, until every resource was gone, and yet Mr. Putnam could succeed in getting no employment. It was at this point of extremity, that he made the appeal to an old business friend — and was so coldly repulsed. It had cost him much sacrifice of feeling to make this application; but, he had felt sure that it would result in good. How bitterly was he disappointed!
Never had Mr. Putnam felt so unhappy; never so discouraged; never so broken in spirits — as when he returned home. The prospect before him was appalling. He and his family to come to the extremity of needing food! He shuddered as the involuntary question arose in his mind!
"Here is a letter for you?" said his daughter when he came home.
"A letter!" He took it eagerly, while a feeble hope went glancing through his mind; but he did not open it, until he was alone. On breaking the seal, he found it to contain five ten dollar bills, and these few words —
"Accept this little offering from a real friend, who, but an hour ago, learned that you were in need."'
The hand-writing was that of a lady.
Years had passed since a feeling of thankfulness to Heaven stirred in the heart of Herman Putnam; but, now, this timely aid seemed so like a heaven-sent blessing, that, spontaneously, an emotion of acknowledgment and gratitude was born therein, and his eyes glanced timidly upwards.
"Who can this real friend be?" said he, after a thoughtful pause of some moments. "The note is in the hand-writing of a lady."
But he did not think in the right direction. The letter was shown to his wife and to Clara, but neither of them rightly conjectured from whom it had come.
A few days after this occurrence, Mr. Putnam happened to be in a public house, when he overheard the following conversation between two gentlemen — who little dreamed how deeply interested was the silent person who sat near them — with his face hidden from view by the newspaper he appeared to be reading.
"How is Ralph Putnam getting along?" asked one of these individuals.
"He remains very feeble," replied the other.
"It is doubtful if he ever has any health again?" said the first speaker.
"Very doubtful."
"Had he anything to fall back upon at the time of his failure?"
"Oh yes."
"His father, I suppose?"
"Oh, dear no! His father was all knocked to pieces."
"He failed, I know. But, men like him generally take good care not to sink everything."
"I thought he would have taken care of number one when the pinch came; but, I believe the creditors were too sharp for him. They stripped him of every dollar."
"What, then, is Ralph's dependence? What did he fall back upon?"
"His wife."
"His wife! Had she property? Why, I thought she was poor. Wasn't she the daughter of Manny Wilkins?"
"Yes."
"He had nothing to leave her."
"No."
"Had she rich relatives?"
"No. She was rich herself."
"You talk in riddles. Where did her riches come from?"
"Have you not heard about her?"
"No."
"Her case is an interesting one. In fact, it is a piece of romance in real life. Are you aware, that old Mr. Putnam has never spoken to her?"
"I believe I did hear, at the time of the marriage, that the old man was terribly angry about it; but I thought it was only a little flare-up on his part and all over long ago."
"Far from it. A complete estrangement was wrought between him and Ralph."
"And has no reconciliation taken place?"
"None. The old man remained as hard as iron. The fact is, he had a grudge against Mr. Wilkins, which would not be forgiven; and moreover, wanted Ralph to marry into the Carson family."
"For money?"
"Of course."
"Herman didn't want him to marry that oldest daughter of Carson's surely!"
"Yes."
"Why, she's the ugliest little witch in the city; and, as ill-tempered as she is repulsive in person. I'm told that she gave Barker, who married her in the end, a most uncomfortable life; and that now, since misfortunes have come upon them, she makes all around her wretched, by her complaints. Poor Barker!"
"If Ralph Putnam had married her, he would now be in his grave!" said the one who appeared to be most familiar with the affairs of Mr. Putnam and his family.
"Why so?"
"His wife has borne him up, and thought and acted for him in the trials incident to his failure in business, as tenderly, carefully, and wisely, as if she were a mother protecting and caring for a helpless infant."
"Indeed!" said the other, in a voice that showed the interest that was awakening in his mind.
"But, the whole history of this noble-minded young woman, is a most touching and instructive one. Do you remember when her father failed in business?"
"Very well."
"I was one of the creditors, and among those who felt friendly towards him. But, there was a small party of claimants who marred everything by their greed; who would have nothing less than the pound of flesh. The head and mouth-piece of this party was Herman Putnam. He would hear to no arrangement that had in it a spark of humanity. He claimed his bond, and would have nothing less. The way in which he insulted and trampled on the feelings of Mr. Wilkins, was shocking."
"Wilkins was in every sense of the word a better man than he ever was or will be!" Interrupted the other, with considerable indignation.
"No one who knows them both, will dispute your remark. Well, through the influence of Mr. Putnam, all the debtor's effects were taken out of his hands, and the business settled up by an assignee, who lined his own pockets handsomely, and divided some sixty or seventy cents in the dollar for us. I believed then, and I believe now, that if we had permitted Mr. Wilkins to close up the business, he would have paid us every farthing of our claims, and had a little surplus over with which to begin the world anew. As it was, we lost pretty seriously, and he was left with a debt of over forty thousand dollars upon his shoulders."
"Thus it is, that a selfish, ill-natured policy results in loss, rather than benefit," remarked the friend.
"Yes. It is usually so. Well, seeing how things were likely to turn out, some of us, who felt an interest in Mr. Wilkins, set on foot a movement to procure him a release; and, but forPutnam, would have been successful. He boldly declared that he never would sign a release for any man; that it was nothing more than a premium on insolvency. So, he placed his foot on the neck of his fallen debtor and held him to the earth."
"Could anything be more heartless than such a spirit!"
"Nothing. It was not only heartless and malignant so far as the poor debtor was concerned, but suicidal in relation to himself. If a release could have been obtained for Wilkins, he would have gone into business with Everhart, who was then looking out for a connection with some man who had a thorough knowledge of trade."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. Everhart was desirous of forming a connection with Wilkins, but while a debt of forty thousand dollars hung over him, such an arrangement was out of the question."
"Of course. And still Putnam refused to sign off."
"Yes. I believe he thought that all the others would do so, and that Wilkins, in his desire to form so advantageous a connection, would arrange to buy him off."
"How much was due to Putnam?"
"Not over four thousand dollars."
"Why didn't Wilkins arrange this?"
"I don't know. I believe his mind revolted at the idea of paying the oppressor, while the generous-minded received nothing. At any rate, Mr. Putnam stood in the way of a connection with Everhart, and so it was not formed."
"The house of Everhart and Grey is now one of the soundest in our city."
"Yes, and it has made a good deal of money. Well, to continue my story. Putnam, I presume, saw that he had overreached himself and injured Wilkins into the bargain — and so he felt still more angry towards his debtor. It was a base kind of a business for one in his condition, to stoop to a continued quarrel with a prostrate debtor. But he did so stoop. Wilkins, you remember, was, soon after, chosen to fill old Mr. Archer's place as President of the Marine Insurance Company, at a comfortable salary of two thousand dollars a year. Everyone, I believe, but Putnam, was glad of this; but, the fact distilled another drop of wormwood in his bitter heart. He could not feel happy, while the man who owed him a dollar, enjoyed a grain of earthly comfort. As to what were his first duties in life, Mr. Wilkins had his own views; and he was just the man to act up to what he believed to be right. He had intelligence, capacity, and industry sufficient, if left free, to procure for his family a liberal income; and he well understood the power that was in him. But his creditors, instead of relieving him from the weight of a debt that he had no strength to throw off while prostrate — kept him down by the pressure of a hopeless obligation. Under these circumstances, he believed that his family was entitled to all he could earn, and he gave them every external good in his power to obtain. To this end, he sent his children to the best schools; for, he well understood the value of a good education. 'I shall have no money to leave them,' said he, 'but in the place thereof, I will give them the very best education they are capable of receiving;' and he made the measure of their capacity, the measure of expense."
"And he was right!" said the friend.
"He was, undoubtedly," returned the other.
"But Mr. Putnam, I suppose, objected."
"Of course. Finding that Grace, the oldest daughter of Mr. Wilkins, was continued at the same expensive school where he was sending his own daughter Clara — he took occasion to read Mr. Wilkins an insulting lecture on the subject, and to charge him with educating his children — at his expense."
"Outrageous!"
"Yes, it was outrageous. When I heard of it my very blood, as they say, did boil! But Mr. Wilkins was not to be moved from his purpose by this. Grace was continued at the school."
"And I suppose Putnam, in indignation, took Clara away?"
"Soon after this, Mr. Putnam heard that Grace and Clara sat together at school, and were friends. Upon this, he wrote the Principal of the school a note, desiring that they might be separated."
"Oh no."
"It is true. And so they were separated, much, I have been told, to the injury of Clara. Then he happened to meet the two girls, arm in arm, in the street one day, coming home from school. This so fretted his mind, that he determined to remove Clara and send her away from the city to a boarding school."
"In order to keep her from a degrading association with a debtor's daughter?"
"Yes, although I have been informed by Mr. Thompson, the principal of the school, that while Grace and Clara were seated together, the latter came so much under the power and better influence, exercised by the former — that she scarcely seemed like the same girl. She no longer neglected her lessons as before, was orderly, and gave him but little trouble. But, when he removed her, at her father's request, from the side of Grace — she fell back into her old habits of inattention, and was ever doing something not consistent with order. At times, when he reproved her, she would say, 'Let me go back again to my old seat beside Grace Wilkins. She helped me to study, and filled me with an ambition to do right.' That, however, was not permitted. Still, while she remained at Mr. Thompson's school, Grace exercised a certain good influence over her. They were warmly attached friends, and close companions the moment school was dismissed or when hours of recess gave them an opportunity to be together. But, when Mr. Putnam removed his daughter to a boarding school, he put out the light which fell upon her path, and showed her the way in which to walk. Ah! That was one of the greatest mistakes Mr. Putnam ever committed. He sowed, then, the wind; and in harvest-time, he reaped the whirlwind. You know something about Clara's unhappy marriage?"
"Yes. She ran away with that fellow Danielson, who was arrested for forgery in less than a week after their marriage."
"But for the father's — what shall I call it — insanity? — Yes! — but for her father's insanity, produced by his wrong feelings towards Mr. Wilkins — this great evil would never have taken place. On his own head, rests the sin of destroying his child's happiness for life!
"Ah! What sad consequences, often result from our errors. It appears, sometimes as if the reaction upon wrong, would never cease."
"It will never cease, in this case, while life throbs in the veins of his unhappy child."
"At any rate, Grace Wilkins remained in the school of Mr. Thompson, until her education was completed; that is, until she had mastered all the various branches of learning taught in the school. When she appeared in society, she was one of the loveliest, best educated, and most accomplished young woman in the city. Take her all in all, and I do not think she had her equal.
"When a little girl, she had been the favorite of Ralph Putnam — and now, on meeting her a most brilliant and beautiful young lady, he was captivated by her charms. But, his father wished him to marry that daughter of Carson's. He wished him to embrace an object for which he could only feel dislike, instead of one that was beauty and excellenceitself. And when Ralph, following his own better sense and feelings, wedded Grace — his father turned from him in anger, and, to this day, there has been no reconciliation.
"And now for the sequel to the whole matter. Time proves all things, and it has proved this. The education which Mr. Wilkins gave to his daughter, in spite of the insults and opposition of Mr. Putnam — that education has proved to the son of the oppressing creditor, the means of support when both fortune and health were utterly gone. In the last struggle of Ralph with the difficulties by which he, in common with hundreds of others, were surrounded, he taxed his weak system too far. When the crisis at last came, and he no longer had the power to bear up against the pressure that was on him, and he fell, completely exhausted in body and mind.
"It was then that the innate strength of character and treasured resources of the lovely being who had moved along, like a shadow by his side, came instantly into manifest existence. When he became weak — then was she strong. At once she interposed herself between him and the world, and would not permit even a sigh from the tempest of trouble which was raging outside, to reach his ears. She met, herself, the creditors, or rather a committee appointed by them, and, acting under the advice of her husband's attorney, arranged all things regarding the settlement of affairs according to the best judgment she could bring to bear upon questions so foreign to those she had usually been called upon to decide. The estate proved insolvent; but so charmed with and interested in her were the gentlemen whose business it had been to confer with her, that their influence with the other creditors procured a full release for her husband from all remaining liabilities; to which was added a present to her of all their household goods, and a thousand dollars in cash."
"Charming! Delightful! It does one's heart good to hear a story like this. I feel as if there yet remained some virtue in the world," said the friend with animation.
"Satisfied" continued the other, "that her husband's health was almost a total wreck, and that, henceforth, his very life would depend on a perfect freedom from labor and excitement, she turned her thoughts upon the means of sustaining all by her own exertions. And now it was that the liberal education, so wisely bestowed by her father, proved the means by which she accomplished the work she earnestly desired to perform. Do you know Mr. Markle?"
"Yes."
"He was one of those who had been charmed by the brave spirit which she manifested in her severe trials. To him, she explained her wish to use the abilities she possessed in the support of her helpless family — her husband was then as helpless as her children. She explained to him how thoroughly she had been educated, and expressed full confidence in her own ability to teach. Markle at once interested himself for her, and now, she has a select school of young ladies, numbering twenty, the limit agreed upon by those who send their children, and from each pupil she receives one hundred and fifty dollars a year."
"Three thousand dollars."
"Yes. And her expense for rent, an assistant teacher, and the incidentals of her school, do not exceed one thousand dollars. I send my oldest daughter, and would pay twice the tuition fee, rather than not have her under the care and influence of such a woman as Mrs. Putnam."
"But, I have an engagement for this hour," added the speaker, looking at his watch. "And shall be late."
Both gentlemen arose, without observing the presence of old Mr. Putnam, and left from the room.
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