The Debtor's Daughter CHAPTER 15.
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The fact that little Willy was subjected to ill-treatment in the absence of his mother, enabled Grace and her husband to use a new and stronger argument against the pride and native independence of Mr. Putnam. Still the old man withheld his consent to the so much desired arrangements.
"How can I do this, Ralph," he exclaimed on the third day after he had come into his son's family, "Me, depend on the labor of Grace? — impossible! My food would choke me. Oh, that I could find some employment! My mind is still clear, and I am in good health. How hard to be thus set aside as worthless!"
"While you have nothing to do, father," said Ralph, "you can have no income — no means of self-sustenance. Remain, then, with us, at least until you find employment."
"If I had employment, and was thus enabled to contribute to the support of the family, I might not so strongly object. Oh dear! Into what a strait in life am I brought! Who can tell what his future will be? How little I dreamed, years ago, of being reduced to an extremity like this. No, no, my son, I cannot make up my mind to this. It may be pride, or independence, which interposes the barrier — it does not matter, it is there, and, to me, seems insurmountable."
On the day this conversation took place between Ralph Putnam and his father, Grace, as soon as she could get away from her school in the afternoon, dressed herself hurriedly, and went out. Her steps were directed towards the store of Mr. Markle, the gentleman who had interested himself in her favor. Mr. Markle saw, by the countenance of Grace, the moment she approached him, that she was concerned about something, and had come for advice or assistance. He received her kindly, and said, almost immediately,
"Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Putnam?"
"There is," replied Grace, a smile coming over her serious face, "or at least, something that you can do for another, for my sake."
"Anything that you ask, I think I may reasonably do," said Mr. Markle, smiling in turn.
"I don't know about that," was pleasantly answered. "However, in the case to come up for your consideration now, I think you may safely meet my wishes. My husband's father is in very extreme circumstances."
A slight shadow fell instantly on the countenance of Mr. Markle. "Old Mr. Putnam," said he.
"Yes."
"I don't think he deserves any consideration from you," remarked the gentleman, in a grave voice.
"He is the father of my husband," was the simple, yet touching; answer of Grace.
The tone, as well as the words, reached the heart of Mr. Markle.
"Moreover," she added, "he is now in extremity, and that should cancel all animosities, if any exist."
"It never cancelled them in his bosom." said Mr. Markle. "Never can I forget the cruel spirit with which he trampled on your father when he was in extremity."
"Oh Sir! Do not speak of that now," quickly replied Grace, "let us forgive the past."
"The measure that men mete out to their fellows — should, at some time in life, be meted back out to them again. It is but a just retribution."
"Let us leave such matters with Him who seeks the eternal good of all," said Grace, solemnly. "He alone can know where and when to apply the rod of correction. As for us, let us show mercy and forgive. If we do not forgive men their trespasses — then how can we expect God to forgive our trespasses."
"You are right, no doubt," replied Mr. Markle, "but there are some things which flesh and blood find hard to bear."
"It is necessary for us to crucify the flesh sometimes," said Grace, smiling.
"As you can no doubt testify from experience," returned Mr. Markle, smiling in turn.
"Such violence is always good for the spirit. I, at least, find it so," said Grace.
"And I think I may safely trust to your experience. Well, what would you have me do?"
"Old Mr. Putnam, as I have said, is in great extremity. I learned this a short time ago, and, the moment it came to my knowledge, I sent him, as from an unknown friend, relief."
"I might almost say that you are too forgiving."
"No, I can never forgive others, more than I have had forgiven by God. Then I called to see him."
"And he did not turn from you as before?"
"Oh no, I found him completely broken down. Oh! how my heart pitied him! Poor old man!"
"It is a great change for him."
"Yes, yes!"
"Well, he has only himself to blame. He pitied none — had mercy on none. Is it any wonder that in his old age, the measure he meted out to others — was measured back to him again? I think not. Even in this life, there comes to all, a just reaction of consequences. The good or the evil that a man does, never falls to the earth dead. Acts are living things, and rarely, indeed, is it, that their vitality is extinguished."
"Come, Mr. Markle," said Grace, speaking in a pleasant, half chiding voice, "All this is unlike you. Mr. Putnam is now crushed and humbled to the very earth. Let pity for one so stricken down, find a place in your bosom."
"Where is he," asked Mr. Markle.
"At our house."
"Indeed." There was surprise, mingled slightly with displeasure in his voice. "And where is Mrs. Putnam, and that daughter who married the forger Danielson? Are they at your house also?"
"Yes."
Mr. Markle shook his head. "I don't like this," said he.
"Why not," inquired Grace.
"You have enough, and more than enough, to bear already, without being burdened with the support of an entire family, in addition to your own. It is not just, Mrs. Putnam. He must be humbled, indeed, to consent to lean against you, now that he is unable to stand alone. It does not in the least, I can assure you, raise him in my estimation."
"You are too hasty in your conclusions, Mr. Markle," said Grace, again speaking in a chiding voice.
"I don't know. Were I in his place, I would starve before I would, under present circumstances, take bread from your hands."
"I declare, Mr. Markle, you are as bad he is," said Grace.
"Please don't say that."
"Well, you are. Now, the fact is, my husband's father is manifesting just the spirit you express. It required persuasion, in the first place, to get him into my house at all, and nothing but out stratagem has kept him there since. The food that I have earned, seems to choke him as he attempts to swallow it."
"Ah! That is as it should be," said Mr. Markle.
"I want him and mother, and Clara, to stay with us. But he will not listen to such an arrangement for a minute. Mother could take charge of my much neglected family, and Clara could help me in the school. Their presence, would, therefore, be a great relief to me. Besides, all this would do my husband good. Who knows, but that it might be the means of restoring his health!"
Tears came into the eyes of Grace, and her voice trembled.
Mr. Markle was affected.
"Ah! That alters the case," said he. "And Mr. Putnam will not consent to remain?"
"So far he has positively refused."
"He has some pride left, then."
"Oh yes! Too much of it."
"No. It is the right kind of pride. I think more of him for it."
"I'm glad," said Grace, smiling once more, "that something gives you a prepossession in his favor."
"Don't flatter yourself that it is very strong. There are some acts in men, that we find it hard either to forget or forgive. But, what is it, that you wish me to do in this matter?"
"If Mr. Putnam had employment by which he could earn a few hundred dollars a year, I think he would waive his present objection to coming in and forming a part of our family."
"And do you want him so badly?"
"Oh yes! You don't know how much I need the presence of mother and Clara. Already mother has discovered what I had too good reason to fear was the case, that the nurse was unkind to my babe while I was absent in school."
"Can it be possible! The wretch!" exclaimed Mr. Markle, indignantly.
"How were you treated by your husband's mother, in former times?" asked the gentleman, after a few moment's pause.
"Always with the greatest kindness. She called to see me as soon as we were married, and manifested the tenderest affection for me."
"This was not the case with her daughter, was it?"
"Oh, yes it was! We were intimate friends at school; so intimate, that her father removed her on my account."
"Was that so?"
"Yes, this was the reason of her being sent away to the boarding school."
"Where she became acquainted with Danielson?"
"Yes."
"Truly, if this isn't a case where the father's sin has been visited upon the child — I never heard of one! Then there was no opposition towards you from Mrs. Putnam and Clara? Pardon me the freedom with which I speak on so delicate a subject. My interest in you, must be my excuse."
"Oh no! None in the least. But for Mr. Putnam, I would have been received into the family with the utmost cordiality."
"Well — well! That considerably alters the case. I never heard anything against Mrs. Putnam."
"She is a good woman. Her trials have been severe."
"This, I can readily imagine. And you wish to have her in your family?"
"Oh yes. I can then leave my husband and children, and go into my school with a light heart."
"I will see what can be done, then. Call about this time tomorrow."
On the next day, Grace called at the store of Mr. Markle as desired.
"Have you any good news for me?" said she, as she came in. "Perhaps so," replied Mr. Markle, with an expression of countenance interpreted by Grace as altogether favorable. "You have found him employment, then?"
"I have found him a very good opening I think, and one that may lead to a good business in the end."
"Have you indeed," said Grace with much animation.
"I saw a gentleman this morning, who belongs to a large manufacturing firm at the east. His business here, at present, is to establish an agency, and he asked me if I knew a capable trustworthy person whom I could recommend for the service. I believe that your father-in-law is just the man to suit him in all respects."
"Do you? And did you say so?"
"I did."
"Oh, I am so grateful to you. And will he receive the recommendation?"
"I presume so; that is, if he is willing to accept of it."
"Of course he will be willing; nay, glad of the opportunity to get employment."
"Will you ask him to call upon me tomorrow morning?"
"Certainly."
As Grace made this reply, a shadow of thought flitted over her countenance. She stood looking upon the floor for some moments. Then lifting her eyes to the face of Mr. Markle, she said —
"I think I would rather that you would send him a note, asking him to call and see you."
"Why so, Mrs. Putnam?" asked the gentleman.
"He is an old man, and some natural feelings of pride and independence still linger in his heart. I wish to spare the pain that might be occasioned if he knew that employment came through my intercession."
Mr. Markle gazed for some moments into the face of Mrs. Putnam, whose eyes had dropped to the floor.
"My dear madam!" he at length said, with a feeling that he could not hide. "Your goodness overcomes me. If it is thus that you act towards your enemies — how must it be with your friends!"
"He is not my enemy, Mr. Markle," replied Grace.
"He has been; and perhaps the bitterest enemy you have known since the sunlight first shone upon you. But, you are heaping coals of fire on his head."
"Oh! don't say that!" returned Grace. "Do not tempt my heart to feel, for an instant, an emotion of triumph, at the great change time has produced. Such an emotion would cause in me the keenest pangs; would rob me of all the pleasure I now receive, in the doing of what is right."
"Forgive me," said Mr. Markle, who now saw still deeper into the character of Grace, and felt for her a more profound respect. Nay, he was even humbled as he measured the quality of his own feelings, by those of this excellent woman. "It would be a better and happier world, if all acted from the heavenly principles which govern you," he added in a voice that was much subdued. "Nay, it would be Heaven upon earth!"
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