CHAPTER I.
THE snows had begun to disappear from the far-famed valleys of Berkshire; the mountain-tops and slopes were still white; in the softening air was the promise of the return of birds and flowers; Nature was relenting from her winter harshness, but man was less kindly than Nature.
On Beauna Vista, one of the hillocks rising slightly above the level of the Housatonic Valley, the day’s work was done, and John Wycliff, a farm-laborer, was awaiting the pay for his last month’s work before returning home.
There was nothing prepossessing about Wycliff’s appearance. Short of stature, minus one eye which he had lost in an encounter with the Indians, with a bent nose, a souvenir of a cattle-stampede on the plains,—he was tough and wiry as a lynx, and his features betrayed almost as little emotion as that animal.
His experience had been largely of akind to make him suspicious of his fellows, and alert for self-defence. He had knocked about the East in a variety of occupations, and in the West had been editor, cow-boy and gold-miner. He had seen varying fortunes, having been once part owner of a gold mine. He had lost all and was now a common laborer again. Although he still retained his interest in the mine, it was considered worthless. He had hopes that sometime it might become valuable again through the invention of cheaper methods of separating the gold from the rock.
Jacob Sharp, the farm-superintendent, was, in appearance, a typical Yankee. He was tall and angular, with blue eyes, which sometimes kindled with a kindly light, but which oftener showed a steely luster suggesting something of the serpent. The nose was the most prominent feature. It was large and sharply defined, and he had a habit, when excited, of blowing it vigorously.
On this occasion a trumpet-like blast first warned John Wycliff that Boss Sharphad something on his mind. He blew his nose loudly several times, while the blue eyes seemed to retreat more deeply into their sockets and to give out a snaky leer. After an unusually loud blast, which testified to the healthy condition of his lungs, he pulled some bank-notes from his pocket.
“Twenty-five dollars,� he said, handing the notes to Wycliff. “I have retained five dollars for Mr. Bothan on the bill which you owe him.�
“But you agreed to pay me thirty-five dollars per month,� replied Wycliff. “I am very poorly situated at this time for losing any part of my earnings. I should be glad to pay all my debts in full at once, but at present my wages will barely supply the necessities of life for my family.� Then, turning to Mr. Bothan, who stood near by, he continued, “Both law and gospel make it a man’s first duty to provide for his family. Besides, you should have no preference over my other creditors.�
But the words were wasted. Wycliffmight as well have appealed to the flint boulders on the mountain side. Sharp insisted that he had agreed to pay him only thirty dollars per month, and he also insisted on paying five dollars of that sum to Richard Bothan on Wycliff’s debt. He even threatened to discharge Wycliff if the latter should take advantage of the Bankruptcy Law and thus place Mr. Bothan on a level with other creditors. Wycliff received twenty-five dollars and walked away.
Mr. Sharp then passed a five dollar note to Mr. Bothan, who returned him one of smaller denomination with the remark, “Here’s a dollar for collecting.�
The men then separated, unconscious that there had been any witness of their conversation. Only a few steps distant, where a rustic watering-trough was hidden from sight by a clump of low hemlock bushes, two horseback-riders, a lady and a gentleman, had paused to let their horses drink.
“What a spectacle that is!� exclaimed the gentleman; “Congressman Baldwin,one of the owners of this farm, belongs to the national legislative body which passed the Bankruptcy Law, and here we see his foreman threatening to discharge a workman for accepting the benefits of that law. The law is designed to relieve those who are unable to pay their debts. Congressman Baldwin is sworn to uphold the law. His foreman, Jacob Sharp, is doing his best, in this instance, to destroy the law. I don’t believe David Baldwin, the Congressman, would feel very proud of his foreman if he witnessed this scene.�
“Would his brother and partner, Zechariah Baldwin, approve of it?� asked the lady.
“I cannot say,� replied the gentleman. “Zechariah Baldwin has less sense of justice or love for his workmen than his brother David. But this is a mean act, at any rate. Mr. Sharp has no moral or legal rights to withhold the workman’s wages and it is contemptible at this time, because Mr. Wycliff has a child very sick and needs every dollar he can earn. Iam surprised that such a man as Sharp, who is notorious for cheating his workmen, should hold so high a position in the church.�
“It is much easier to criticise the church than to help in the good work which the church is doing,� answered the lady tartly.
“We have a right to criticise the church if she fails to take up the work which the Master left for her to do;� replied the gentleman, but the lady was offended, and the remainder of the journey was passed in silence.
Meanwhile John Wycliff found little to comfort him on his return home.
“Robert has been growing worse all day;� were the first words of his wife: “The Doctor gives very little encouragement. He says that to-night will decide and that he is so frail and sensitive that we must gratify all his whims. Whatever he wants we must promise to get it for him. The Doctor says we must not cross him the least bit in any of his wishes.�
The wife and mother—a slight, sensitive thing—dropped upon her knees, buried her face in the bed-clothes, and prayed for her son in words which reached no ear but the Almighty’s. Then she lay down upon a couch, exhausted by days and nights of watching.
The mother slept. The boy lay for the most part quietly, his spirit fluttering as lightly as a butterfly’s wing between life and death. The father sat beside the crib where his child lay, and watched his every movement, bending down frequently and placing his ear close to the little sufferer’s face, to learn if he were still breathing. Once he woke his wife hurriedly, thinking that the end had come. But life still lingered.
There was a distant rumble of wheels. John Wycliff recognized the sound of that vehicle, and it made him for the moment desperate. Some of the rough points of his Western life had ingrained themselves in his nature, and one characteristic memento of that strenuous time was at hand in a bureau-drawer.
He glanced at his wife. She was in a sound sleep. He bent down and caught the sound of the boy’s breathing. Then he sprang to the bureau and rushed, coatless and hatless, into the street.
Jacob Sharp was alone on his way to the mid-weekly evening prayer meeting. When he came into the shaft of light thrown from the sick-room window, his horse was grasped by the bridle, while a low voice said: “Pay me the wages you defrauded me of!� and a pistol gleamed in Sharp’s face.
“Be quick!� the voice added, as Mr. Sharp’s right hand went up, as was his habit when excited, to blow his nose. The hand dropped quickly to his pocket, and a ten-dollar note was handed over.
“Take legal action about this if you choose, Mr. Sharp,� said Wycliff. “I can land you in prison and for more than one offense.�
“Say nothing, and I will say nothing;� replied Sharp as he drove on. Wycliff’s challenge uncovered a chapter in Sharp’s history which he had fanciedcovered up and which he did not wish exposed. This adventure filled only a very brief time, and again Wycliff was by the bedside.
The little lips moved feebly. He placed his ear close to them.
“Pop—will I—have—pony—cart—heaven?�
It was with great difficulty that he gathered the words. Heaven! What did he know about heaven? What did he care about it if such men as Jacob Sharp and Richard Bothan were its representatives here on earth? But he answered instantly, recalling the doctor’s warning, and bending close to the child’s ear:
“Yes, you will have everything you want there.�
And then, very slowly and very feebly—so slowly and so feebly that his coarse senses could hardly be sure of the scarcely whispered words—came the “Pop—will I—ever—have—pony—cart—here?�
There was but an instant’s hesitation,as the father recalled his inability to fulfil his promise, and he replied, watching his child’s face as the fluttering spirit caught the meaning:
“Yes, Robbie, if you will stay with us you shall have a pony and a cart.�
This had been the height of the child’s desire, his highest idea of happiness, his heaven—to have a pony and a cart. In sight of the other shore, and with voices, perhaps, which his father’s coarse ear could not hear, calling him thither, he was willing to stay on this side if his desire might be gratified.
The father thought he saw the slightest trace of a smile on the thin face. The boy slept. More than once there were brief intervals when the father could not detect his son’s breathing, but as the hours wore away there seemed to be a gain.
Meanwhile the father’s memory was busy. As a lightning-flash, in the night, for an instant illuminates the entire landscape, so his son’s question flashed his whole life in review before him. He recalledthe day, when, with high ideals, he had pledged himself to Christ in the little country meeting-house, and the church had pledged friendship to him. Later some of these comrades in the church had defrauded him of all he possessed. To-day the worst enemies of himself and of every other workingman in the town of Papyrus, were pillars in the fashionable church of that place. These things stood out in bold relief to-night, as bold as the mountain’s rugged outline when the lightning’s flash illumines it.
“The First Church of Papyrus,� Wycliff had once said to Deacon Surface, “does not stand for righteousness. It will whitewash any wrong done by its wealthy members. Our pastor is eloquent in condemning the disfranchisement of the negroes of the South, but does not say one word to condemn the disfranchisement of mill-hands in Papyrus. Employees in the Baldwin Mills are prevented from voting appropriations for schools, roads, street-lights, and otherpublic benefits in their own town. To be consistent, you should place the sign of the Almighty Dollar on the pinnacle of your beautiful church, and inscribe over the altar these words: ‘The rich can do no wrong.’�
Deacon Surface, who belonged, body and soul to the Baldwins, had been horrified at Wycliff, whom he regarded as little better than an infidel. Wycliff regarded Deacon Surface and his kind, as followers of the Master only for the ‘loaves and fishes.’
But the night wore away. The boy was better. The mother was worn out, and Wycliff remained at home to care for his wife and child.
Jacob Sharp was an early caller.
“Your position will be open to you, at thirty-five dollars per month, whenever you can come back;� he said.
But Wycliff was never to return.