That night, after Harrison was in bed, his mother came in to bid him good-night. "I hope, my son," she said, "that you have not retired to rest without thanking your Father in heaven for his blessing upon your endeavors to-day."
The lad colored under his mother's anxious gaze. "I said my prayers, of course, mother," was his hesitating reply. "Perhaps. I didn't remember to thank Him as I ought."
"God loves a greatful heart," was her only remark.
THE events related in the last chapter occurred on Thursday. Harrison was to take his place in Mr. Grant's store on Monday. The next day, then, his mother must be carried home, and all the arrangements made for her comfort during his absence. As the youngest boy, he must be the first at the store in the morning to sweep and dust; then return for his breakfast, and be back again to his work. In the morning, therefore, he could do nothing to lighten her cares. But the store closed early, and what delightful evenings they would have together!
Those were the boy's reflections as he lay awake long after the other inmates of the cottage had sunk into quiet slumber. "Mother says I ought to be thankful and I am; but not in the way she means, I suppose. I wish I were as good as she is. Nothing ever happens to her but she sees the hand of God in it, just as plain as I can see that bureau in the moonlight. If it's any thing she has asked for, He has answered her prayer, she says. If it's any affliction, He is administering the rod in love, for her good. Then how much comfort she does take in praying! Now last night she seemed to forget everything but that she was talking with God. I confess I was so tired I lost a part of it, my thoughts wandered so, but when she arose, how her face did shine! She seemed so full of trust, when she kissed me good-night and whispered, 'All will come out right, my son.'"
Monday morning arrived, and Harrison went to his new employment full of hope, sanguine of success, because he had made up his mind to do his very best. One of the clerks explained the duties that would be required of him. First, he would be expected to take the great key at a very early hour from the house of Mr. Grant, and carry it to the porter at the store. Then, when within the store, he was to sweep and dust, return home for his breakfast, and be back in time to take the letters from the morning mail, after which he would be called upon to go errands here and there, and if found trustworthy, to deliver and collect bills.
When he returned home at night, Mr. Cowles was almost as eager as his mother to hear his report of the day.
"I am very well satisfied with my place," said the boy, "and am exceedingly obliged to you, sir, for helping me to get it. We are doing an immense business. I can't begin to tell you the amount of grain we have received into the store to-day. The hook and chain are fastened around the draw, and up go several bushels, straight to the third or fourth story window, where a man, stands ready to pull them in, and others to mark them and pile them away."
"Then perhaps in an hour comes a tremendous great order to be filled, and down come bags again through the trap-door into the lower room, from which the men take them into the trucks backed up to the sidewalk."
At the end of two months Mrs. Danforth began to notice that her son, instead of being cheerful and happy, came home with languid steps, complained of being weary, and was not at all inclined to talk of his business. The night he brought home his first month's wages, he laid the money down with a petulant air, very unlike himself, and when his mother glanced inquiringly in his face, exclaimed to her great astonishment, "I wish that were the last cent I ever were to receive from the firm of Grant & Company."
"Why, Harrison! what has happened?" she inquired in surprise.
"Because I believe they'll fail," said the boy, recovering himself. "I don't think they do business on the right principle."
The good woman begged him to explain. This he was unwilling to do; and then she told him if he did his own duty faithfully, he was not responsible for the actions of his employers.
Two, three months passed; and Harrison grew more and more silent—almost moody. Not even good neighbor Cowles could induce him to say a word about his business. He worked early and late, often not coming home for his supper until eight or nine o'clock, so that his mother had but little opportunity to question him. On the Sabbath, however, she noticed a marked change in his conduct. He often sat with his eyes fixed vacantly on some object; and when suddenly addressed, would start as if awaking out of his sleep. Once when she pressed him as to the subject of his thoughts he answered, vaguely, "I'm trying to make out the character of the head clerk." He had long ago given up identifying himself with the business, and saying "our firm," "our business," "our clerks." On another occasion she overheard him say to himself, "I'll keep my eyes opened, and make it out yet."
All this time he had visited Mrs. Haven's cottage but once. Ella had been in several times to inquire for him, and felt quite indignant at his having forsaken them, until Mrs. Danforth explained to her, with a sigh, that his business allowed him no time for recreation, scarcely for necessary rest. And when Ella asked, "Does he like being a merchant? does he look just as he did? does he whistle now?" the good woman was obliged to confess that he seemed rather overworked, and consequently not so merry as formerly. Ah! she little knew the struggle that was going on in the mind of her boy; that when at a late hour he retired to bed he could not sleep, that a heavy weight of care lay upon his heart! But I will not anticipate.
It was now July. Many of the more wealthy citizens were leaving for the sea-side, or for their country-seats; but though the heat was extremely oppressive, Harrison's energies did not flag. On the contrary he had seemed for a short time more active and busy than ever. For two days he had carried his breakfast and dinner with him, so that he was absent from home from half-past five in the morning till past eight at night. When his mother remonstrated, he assured her that he had extra labors to perform in the absence of one of the accountants. Mr. Grant finding he could do the work, had imposed it upon him in addition to his own.
One morning, however, he returned to breakfast, and, having asked to see Mr. Cowles, walked up to him with the inquiry, "What is the name of the gentleman who is in company with Mr. Grant?"
"I don't know," replied the other, gazing with considerable surprise upon the flushed, earnest countenance of the youth.
"Can you help me find out, sir."
"I suppose so, if it is any object for you to know."
"It is of the utmost consequence, sir. When will you do it?"
"To-day."
"Thank you, sir. I'll call at dinner time," and the excited boy went from the house forgetting that he had not eaten his breakfast.
He returned, however, at dinner-time, and having dispatched his meal in haste went to Mr. Cowles sitting-room and knocked at the door. The family were eating in the basement; but our good friend, hearing Harrison's voice, kept the table; and, entering the room, gave him the information he sought. "I asked my employer," he began, "who said he supposed it was Kilby."
"That's just what I thought," exclaimed the boy, with a great sigh of relief.
Mr. Cowles stared. "Mr. Loving," he added, "was curious to find out my object in inquiring; but I told him I only sought information for a friend."
"'Hold,' said he, 'I'll inquire of Clement, next door. He's booked up in all those matters.' In about five minutes he returned and said it was Kilby, a rich man from the West somewhere."
"Yes, it's L. F. Kilby," repeated the boy, turning to go. "Well, I've found out so much."
"What's in the wind, my lad?" asked the good man.
"You'll know soon," was the reply.
All that afternoon Harrison worked as if for his life. Since the sickness of the accountant, his competency to fill the vacancy had been discovered, and his employer, who had noticed his redoubled exertion, supposed that he was trying to obtain the place, for the sake of the higher wages. He smiled as he advanced, and looking over the shoulder of the lad, saw him neatly and accurately copy the accounts from the day-book into the journal, little imagining that, as soon as his back was turned, another set of accounts, totally unlike these, were drawn from beneath the book and copied with a rapid hand.
At length the boy's arduous, self-imposed task was completed. He had worked at it early and late, mostly when the store was empty, while Mr. Grant and the greater part of the men had gone to their meals, and now he considered that enough had been accomplished to serve his purpose. At noon, before he left the store, he sought the head clerk, from whom he generally received orders, and said, "I should like to be absent this afternoon, sir."
"Well, you do look rather used up," replied the man, glancing at his pallid countenance. "Hope you ain't going to be sick; can't spare you."
"I've had to work very hard for a mouth, doing double duty," replied Harrison, fixing his clear, keen eye upon the other. "Can I have leave of absence?"
"Oh yes! I think upon the whole you need a little rest," was the reply, and the boy waited for nothing further.
Mrs. Danforth noticed that he ate very sparingly, and soon retired to his room, where he dressed himself in his Sunday suit.
"Where are you going, my dear?" she asked, in surprise.
"To Mr. Clarkson's first," was his reply. "I have leave of absence for the afternoon."
"It is very warm," she urged. "Why can't you wait awhile?"
He hesitated a moment, as if about to say something, and then went out as if he had not heard her remark. But presently he came back, and said, "Mother, I have something very painful to do this afternoon, and I want you to pray for me, that I may be directed to do what is right. I can't tell you now, but I shall before long, and then I hope I shall be happy again."
"O, my son! what can it be! I hope you have not been left to do wrong. O, Harrison! tell me, whatever it is! I had rather know it at once. I can't endure the suspense."
"I will tell you to-night, mother. Please pray for me till then." And he went out leaving her crushed almost to the dust with sorrow, fearing that her darling boy, her only earthly hope and dependence, had been left to commit some great crime. Yes, she saw it all; she realized now that his plea of urgent business at the store was but an excuse to be away from home, where the stings of conscience were doubly hard to endure. She retired to her own closet, and, falling on her knees, cried out in agony, "O, my God! forgive him, whatever he has done; lead him to repent humbly, and to begin this very day a new life!"
Then she tried to recall his exact words, "Pray, for me that I may be directed to do what is right." He was about then to confess his guilt, and that was why he hoped for happiness afterwards. But why go to Mr. Clarkson. Alas! all was dark and drear, and shrouded in mystery. Sometimes she thought she would follow her son to Mr. Clarkson's, and force from him the dreadful truth. She passed the time in alternate prayers and groans and tears.
If Harrison had not been so much absorbed, he would have relieved his mother so far as his own conduct was concerned, if he thought the time had not arrived to tell her the whole truth. But, conscious of his own innocence, he did not realize her anxiety for him.
He went first to Eagle Hotel, and requested to see Mr. Clarkson. The gentleman learning that he had something for his private ear, led him along the hall to a small parlor in a retired part of the building.
"Here is my sanctum," he said, playfully, "and I am quite curious to know why you have brought me into it."
"Mr. Clarkson," said the boy, pale with contending emotions, "You have always been kind to me. I need advice, and I know no one so able to give it as you. May I tell you my story?"
"Certainly," responded the gentleman, growing every moment more and more surprised.
"Well, sir," exclaimed the boy, nervously handling a small roll he held in his hand. "I will make it as short as I can."
"FOR six months," began Harrison, "I have been in the store of Grant & Co., on Central Wharf."
Mr. Clarkson started, stood for a moment irresolute, and then sat down again.
"I was engaged to do the work of a boy, and was to have thirteen dollars a month, with a promise of increase of wages if I did well. You know I am not afraid of work; and I tried to do my very best. It was just such a store as I had longed to be in, and at first I was delighted with my situation."
Harrison sighed heavily and then went on. "As errand-boy I was around in all parts of the store, and one day I overheard Mr. Grant swearing terribly at the head clerk. They were alone in the office. I suppose he did not realize that any one could hear him. I was dreadfully frightened, and stood still. The clerk, whose name is Ransom, answered him back in the same angry tone, 'I'll expose you then.'"
"'And criminate yourself,' said Mr. Grant."
"'Kilby will forgive that, for exposing your villainy,' retorted the clerk."
"I crawled softly away and went up stairs. What could they have meant? At first, I could only imagine that the life of some one was in danger; but, after lying awake almost all night over it, I determined to be on my guard and watch the actions of my employer."
"A part of my duty was to clear the office of rubbish, which had accumulated through the day. Newspapers and old letters were generally crumpled and thrown under the table, to show they were of no further use. These I gathered in a basket and carried away to the place assigned them. One day I wanted a piece of paper, and, having noticed that often there was a half-sheet thrown under the table, I went and selected one which had only a few words written on it. It was the beginning of a letter addressed to L. F. Kilby, Esq. Then, in the first line, a word was misspelled, and the whole was thrown aside. The next piece I took was this letter, which had been copied but not filed. Hardly knowing what I was doing, I began to read, but was just going to throw it aside when my curiosity was roused by these words: 'Trade still dreadfully dull. Haven't sold a hundred bushels for a week. Mr. Ransom has concluded to take the front store, as I wrote in my last, for storage. He has some scheme, a wild one I fear. I waited for your answer till the last moment, hoping you would veto the bargain; but, as' —This too," added Harrison, "for some reason was left incomplete. I put it in my pocket."
"During the week of which he spoke we had been sending off immense quantities of wheat, corn, and other grains. I began to understand the game. All this time I was very much excited, and lost my appetite. I didn't know what it was my duty to do. I suppose I felt worse in consequence of knowing that Mr. Haven's partner had ruined him, and caused his death. I used to see Mr. Grant open his office door and beckon Mr. Ransom in. Sometimes I used to loiter up near the partition, so as to hear what they were saying.
"One day I heard Mr. Grant say, 'I'm afraid he's got wind of it. He'll pounce right upon us some day.'"
"'We must prepare for him,' said the clerk, in an indifferent tone."
"'How is it possible to do it?' asked the other."
"'Why, by a false set of books,' suggested Mr. Ransom."
"I had access to all the books, as well as to the safe, for the key I always left with the store-key at Mr. Grant's house. After this I noticed that Mr. Ransom was very much engaged in writing and the accountant was required to copy from this day-book into another which he calls the journal."
"One day he did not make his appearance; and the clerk, after sending to his boardinghouse, and finding that he was ill, asked me if I could post the accounts for the day. I answered that I could, if he would explain to me his method. This he did in a few minutes; and, as the book-keeper has not returned, I have done his work ever since, in addition to my own."
"Perhaps you do not comprehend that the books I was required to keep were the false ones I had heard spoken of."
Mr. Clarkson arose suddenly, and going to the door, said, "Excuse me one moment," and left the room.
"I'm afraid I'm keeping you too long, sir," said Harrison, anxiously, as the gentleman returned; "but I am almost through now."
"Oh no!" responded the gentleman, "I'm entirely at your service. I'm quite curious to know what the gentlemen intend to gain by these books while they still retain the genuine ones."
"That is just it, sir. One day, Mr. Grant and the clerk were in the office, supposing all the men had gone to dinner, and got to disputing very angrily on that subject. Mr. Grant wanted to destroy them, but the other wouldn't consent to it. They called each other all kinds of hard names; but at length agreed that the books should be boxed up and sent to a place of security."
"I suppose, then," suggested Mr. Clarkson, "that Mr. Ransom wished to hold these as a proof of the villainy of the other, in case he turned against him."
"Yes, sir; and also to prove his own part of the profits, in case they are not found out."
"Oh yes! Well, go on."
"I have nothing more to tell, sir; only that I have seized every opportunity to copy a few pages from the real books,—enough to compare with the books which will be presented Mr. Kilby, if he should inquire for them."
"Are you willing to take your oath that these are correct?" asked Mr. Clarkson, advancing and taking the sheets from the boy's hand.
"I am willing, sir," answered the boy, seriously, "to take my oath that they are correct in dates and figures, and in every particular and respect, as far as I was capable of making them so."
"Well, then, come with me to a magistrate."
"What will it be necessary for me to do, sir?"
"Simply to state in brief what you have said to me, and take your oath upon it."
"If you think best, I will go; my only object has been that justice should be done to Mr. Kilby."
"I wish poor Haven had had such a clerk," sighed the gentleman. "Remain here a moment, and I will accompany you."
Harrison, when left alone, began to feel a reaction from the excitement. He leaned his head on the table; and, when Mr. Clarkson returned, after an absence of about fifteen minutes, he found him faint and languid. A good cup of coffee, however, soon revived him, and they set out for the office of the attorney.
When they arrived, two gentlemen were seated there; and Mr. Clarkson, having shaken hands with them, stated his business, and requested Harrison to repeat the substance of what he had said to him.
The lad began, and the cross-questioning of the lawyers, as he thought them, brought out the rest.
When he produced his roll containing the sheets copied from the books, one of the gentlemen caught his hand, and exclaimed, "Noble boy! you have helped me to unmask the villains, and you shall be well rewarded."
Harrison stared at him in astonishment.
"This is Mr. Kilby," said Mr. Clarkson; "so you can imagine that he has listened to your story with some interest."
The secret partner then inquired if Harrison would return to the store that afternoon.
"No, sir," replied the boy, drawing himself up to his full height; "I shall never go there again. I should have left at the end of a month, but for the hope of being able to prove something against them, as I was sure they were meditating some crime."
"Which you have well done," said the lawyer; "and I advise you not to leave your work incomplete."
"Go, as usual, to your business in the morning," added Mr. Kilby; "and when the safe is open, keep the key in your own possession. It may be that the old books have not yet been removed; or, if they have been, try to ascertain to what place. They will be so taken by surprise to see me, they may betray themselves. If so, it will be unnecessary to have you appear connected with the affair."
Poor Harrison was really very unwilling to show himself at the store, after what he had done. It seemed to him like deception. Mr. Ransom, and indeed, Mr. Grant, had always been kind to him. On his own account he bore them no ill-will and nothing but his desire to save one whom they were trying to ruin, would have induced him to conduct as he had done. Then the reaction, from his excitement and hard labor at the store, was coming on. He felt as if he would like to lie down and sleep for a week.
The gentlemen, however, overruled all his objections; and Mr. Kilby promised him rest after to-morrow. The arrangements for the morning were then agreed upon, and Harrison left them to hasten home.
Notwithstanding his head was aching severely, his heart was so much lightened of its heavy load that he sprung up the stairs, and entered the room with a smile of pleased anticipation. He knew his mother would be gratified at the course he had pursued.
She was sitting in a low chair at the table, upon which lay the open Bible. Little imagining that she was strengthening her heart to bear some great sorrow, he advanced and put his arms around her neck as in days long gone by. "O, mother!" he exclaimed, kissing her cheek, "I feel like myself once more. Such a burden as I have carried for six long, weary months. I would not surely bear it again for—for anything—short of duty, of course, I mean."
Mrs. Danforth burst into tears. "O, my son!" she sobbed out, "tell me that you have never departed from the instructions of this holy book; I care for nothing else."
"I cannot say that," he replied, in a subdued tone; "for you have taught me that we do depart from God's commands every hour; but I can relieve you at once with regard to the present case. It does not at all concern myself, except as I have been the means of exposing the villainy of two rogues."
"You, Harrison! You are young for such business."
"Yes, mother, and therefore unsuspected; but please give me some supper, and I will tell you the whole story. Here, let me wipe your eyes, and see you smile once more. I am sorry I did not tell you all from the beginning. Mr. Cowles must hear it too. I wonder whether he suspected what I was about?"
It had been agreed by Mr. Kilby and the lawyer that Harrison's first business at the store should be to ascertain whether the old books had been removed. Upon opening the safe, he found that they were taken out, and the new ones arranged neatly in their places. He was much disturbed at this, and walked to the front of the store, reflecting what he should do. Among a pile of bags of grain his eyes rested for a moment upon a square box, nailed up and directed to William Ransom, Calender street. His heart beat wildly as his eye measured the size to compare it with the books. Ho was almost sure it contained them.
The truckman would be here soon with his team. How should he contrive to detain it? Seizing a favorable moment, when the porter was employed at another part of the store, he attempted to lift the box, but found it required the exertion of all his strength to convey it ever so short a distance. He relinquished at once the idea of carrying it up stairs; but merely opened a door near by, leading into a closet used for rubbish, pushed it in and threw a basketful of papers over it.
It was unnecessary now to retain in his possession the key of the safe; and therefore he proceeded in his usual business, after writing on a scrap of paper, "All safe; search closet,—right hand of office,—for square box;" or some word to signify his success, he had been directed to give Mr. Kilby or the police who would accompany him, on their entrance to the store. All his anxiety now was lest some inquiry should be made for the books by Mr. Ransom before Mr. Kilby should appear; but he comforted himself that even in that case he could direct them to Mr. Ransom's room in Calender street.
Presently the truckman came in to take the grain which had been left on the floor over night. He looked around a moment for the box, and then said to Harrison, who was the only one in sight, "Mr. Ransom told me to carry a box to Calender street. He said he'd leave it here, marked and directed; won't you tell him I didn't find it, and I'll take it next time."
"If he wants to send it then, I suppose he'll have it ready," replied the youth, gravely.
Scarcely ten minutes after the load of grain had left the store, Mr. Ransom made his appearance, and Harrison noticed his quick glance in the direction from which the box had been taken. He desired now to ward off any attention to himself; for he trembled with apprehension of some violence on the part of the guilty men. He bent over his writing, that his palid face might not attract notice, though his brain absolutely refused to do its usual work of posting accounts. Every moment he grew more excited. He felt oppressed for breath, and walked to the door for air.
Fortunately for him, Mr. Grant and his clerk were shut close in their office, concerting measures to insure themselves against exposure, if, as they feared, the secret partner should present himself or send an agent to investigate the state of the firm. How little they thought that a net had been woven around them which, in a few moments, would enclose them in its folds.
Just as Harrison reached the door, he saw Mr. Kilby and two policemen, standing in close counsel just at the corner of the street.
Advancing quickly toward them, he put the paper into their hands, turned back, and was, apparently, writing at his desk, when they entered.
Mr. Kilby presently appeared at the door, alone, and advancing toward the office, inquired, in a loud, cheerful voice, of the young clerk, "Good morning! is Mr. Grant in?"
"He is, sir!" replied Harrison, in an almost inarticulate voice, and then proceeded to call the gentleman from his office. But that familiar voice had penetrated the closed door; and, hastily casting a glance around to the safe to see that all was in order, Mr. Grant, with a certain wildness of the eye, but a braggadocio air, walked forward to meet his partner.
I do not intend to describe the scene which followed. The officers entered, and served a writ upon Mr. Grant and his clerk; and, as it was a criminal prosecution, for fraud, on behalf of the government, no bail was allowed, and the villains were carried to prison to await their trial. Upon examination, all the bags of grain in the fourth story were marked with the letter R, so that in case an agent should appear, it would seem that this room had been hired for storage by Mr. Ransom; otherwise it would have been difficult to account for such a large stock in trade; while the false books were intended to show the unparelled dullness of the times. The real books were readily found, and showed that an immense and profitable business had been carried on. Before night the clerks were paid and dismissed, and the business of the great house of Grant & Co. was brought to a summary close.
IN the course of the morning following the events narrated in the last chapter, Mr. Clarkson accompanied Mr. Kilby to the residence of Mrs. Danforth. But Harrison had already gone to improve his first holiday by a visit to Mrs. Haven's cottage. The gentleman, after a moment's consultation, determined to follow him there, and invited Mrs. Danforth to be of the party.
The young clerk, who was engaged at the moment in a game of checkers with Ella, seemed at first somewhat embarrassed at the thought that they had taken so much pains to see him, but the frank cordiality of the gentleman soon put the whole party at their ease. Mr. Kilby called his young friend one side, and endeavored to draw from him his plan for the future. But Harrison had formed none, and confessed at length that he needed rest before he could enter upon any business. The constant anxiety of mind of the last six months and the additional duties of book-keeper, besides his self-imposed task for a few weeks, had over-tasked his system, and brought on a constant headache.
The gentleman proposed at once to take him to a physician; but the youth did not consider it necessary. The open air, and entire freedom from anxiety, would no doubt restore him in time.
"Take a little trip into the country," suggested the secret partner, at the same time taking from his pocket-book a roll of bills. "You noticed, perhaps," he added, with a pleasant twinkle of his eye, "that I did not pay you nor dismiss you from my employ. I shall probably need you in settling up this unpleasant business; but as I cannot do anything until the trial comes on, it is but fair that your wages should be continued. I think you mentioned that you were hired as an errand boy, at thirteen dollars a month, with, a promise of increase of wages if you did well. Did you ever have an increase?"
"I never asked for any," answered the lad with a rosy blush.
"Well, you were entitled after the first month to twenty dollars. Why! you could hardly pay your board upon that; and Clarkson tells me you supported your mother too. Then the salary of a clerk competent to keep the accounts, ought to be at the least six hundred dollars a year; and you acted in that capacity for three months. Well, there is your pay. You needn't trouble yourself to count it over," as the youth, hardly, knowing what he was about, began to fumble among the bills. "Come, put it away. It isn't civil to be settling accounts in the presence of ladies."
"But really, sir," exclaimed Harrison, "I never expected one cent beyond the sum for which I was engaged; and setting aside the dreadful feeling that injustice would be committed, unless I contrived some way to prevent it, I learned enough of business in the store to satisfy me fully for my extra labor."
"All very fair and honest, my young friend, on your part, but very rascally and mean on mine if you don't allow me to pay my just dues. I have as yet done nothing more, but there is a great debt on my part which remains uncancelled. As you have been the means of saving me from the loss of my entire fortune, you may at least allow me the privilege of being grateful. But," added the gentleman, pitying the embarrassment of the youth, "we will talk of that some other time."
They then joined the circle where Mr. Clarkson, with Ella standing close at his side, her earnest eyes fixed upon his face, was giving the ladies an account of Harrison's confidential visit to himself.
"When he mentioned Mr. Kilby's name," he resumed, "I started to leave the room in search of the gentleman, who had arrived that very day, and who, I thought, must be somewhere about the house; but I feared that his presence might be a constraint upon the lad. When he had advanced still further in his story, I left the room to request the gentleman not to leave the hotel. After Harrison had expressed his willingness to go before a magistrate, I sent the secret partner on before, that he might be present during the interview, only saying to him that some wonderful revelations were to be made concerning the firm of Grant & Company."
"I had already entertained some suspicions that all was not right," added Mr. Kilby, "and had come on from the West with the intention of examining the books for myself. Probably had it not been for my young friend here, I should have taken the new set of books as presumptive proof that all was right. It has been a good lesson to me; and for the future I shall keep my business in my own hands."
The gentlemen then rose to take their leave; but before they went, Mr. Kilby had obtained Mrs. Danforth's consent for her son to accompany him to Saratoga early in the following week.
Mrs. Haven and Ella begged Mrs. Danforth to remain at the cottage while he was absent, the little girl pleading that it was so long since she had seen her old nurse that she wished to renew the acquaintance.
Mrs. Danforth smiled as she saw Ella whispering earnestly to Harrison that he must go back at once and bring his mother's work so that she would be contented to stay. It would be necessary also for him to make some purchases before his anticipated tour; and so, with Mrs. Haven's consent, Ella walked with him to the city to obtain the clothes which his mother needed, and make other arrangements for leaving home. He confessed to his young friend that he did not like to carry so much money about with him, and that he meant to get Mr. Cowles to deposit the most of it in a bank at once. They then proceeded to the store of a merchant tailor, where Ella gravely gave her opinion as to the fit of coats, and also as to the comparative beauty of different patterns of cravats,—the young clerk being delighted to see that, with additional experience and advance in age, her taste had improved, so that no longer as formerly did she choose the most showy colors. Plain black cravats were his preference; but, to gratify Ella, he took also one with a fine check of green and black, which she rapturously pronounced "a real beauty."
The purchases being most satisfactorily completed, the young people returned to the cottage,—rather warm and weary to be sure, but full of enthusiasm in regard to their walk.
Here, too, a pleasant surprise awaited them; for it appeared to give Ella equal pleasure as her young friend. In their absence a small parcel had arrived directed to Mr., not Master, Harrison Danforth, Vine Cottage.
"Guess before you open it," shouted the excited girl. "Let us all guess what it is."
"I, for one," commenced the lad, ceasing from his effort to untie the strings, "cannot form the least idea. I presume it is from Mr. Kilby; and he has already so loaded me with favors that I don't like to accept any more."
Mrs. Danforth, to please Ella, guessed that the parcel contained a purse to keep his money in.
Mrs. Haven confessed that she could easily fancy the contents, but would prefer not to state her opinion.
Ella then took the small, neatly tied bundle, turned it over carefully in her hands, looked very mysterious, and then said, earnestly, "I guess it's a napkin-ring. It's just about the size that my box was,—I mean the one that father's present of a napkin-ring came in."
Great was her surprise, therefore, when, having unloosed the white wrapping paper, Harrison disclosed a small green case containing a valuable watch. There it lay on its pure white satin bed, totally unsuspicious of the enthusiasm it was destined to call forth.
The young clerk gave a scream of joy, exclaiming, "Just what I have always longed for!" Ella jumped up and down and clapped her hands. Mrs. Haven smiled complacently: it was what she had fancied; while the happy mother gazed in unaffected surprise.
On the back of the watch, in the small circlet forming the centre, were the initials, L. F. K. to H. D.
The beautiful trinket was then passed around the group, and commented upon according to the different views of each. Mrs. Haven, in her turn, opened to the mechanism, to explain to him the parts and their action. It was a lever, and had thirteen jewels.
Ella then expressed a desire to see how Harrison would look wearing a watch. She had entirely forgotten her fatigue in the joy of the present occasion. He passed the ribbon around his neck, saying, with a laugh, "What should I have done, if I had not begun to wear vests?"
"Such a tall man as you," exclaimed Ella, "would look too funny in jackets. There, it becomes you very well," she added, as she stood in front of him, with her eyes fastened upon the black ribbon.
The number of times the new watch was consulted within the next hour it would be impossible to tell. At the end of that time the happy owner announced, in a tone of triumph, that it had not varied from the clock upon the mantel a quarter of a second.
At the close of the evening Mrs. Danforth took her son's arm and led him into her own room. Her heart was full to overflowing; and she longed to unburden herself to the gracious Being who had been so much better to her than her fears. While the young people had sat together in the moonlight, engaged in an animated conversation, she had been communing with her own heart, and reviewing the path by which she had been led. Now, she thought, if I could only see my dear son dedicating all his powers to the service of his Maker, I could die content. Surely, while his heart is subdued with happiness, I must urge this upon him.
"I am glad to see you alone, mother," he said, as he seated himself by her side. "Even the presence of these dear friends does not compensate me for the loss of your ever-ready sympathy."
"My dear boy!" said she, almost starting at the resemblance to his father, as he turned toward her with a glance of affection, "when I look back upon the last six months, it seems like a troubled dream."
"This has been a happy awakening, though, mother, hasn't it? Oh, I can't tell you how much I have suffered!"
"You have not suffered alone," responded the mother, softly. "My heart has yearned over you, as I saw you going forth day after day to your duties, with a cloud settling upon your brow. I could find no relief except upon my knees."
"O, mother!" cried Harrison, with a burst of feeling, "if your prayers could save me, I know I should be sure of heaven. Lately," he added, sinking his voice to a deeper tone, "I have begun in earnest to pray for myself. I have often asked myself, What have I in my own heart to keep me from being such a villain as Mr. Grant? O, mother! I wish that I were really good. I want to feel, as you do, that God is my friend."
Mrs. Danforth could not answer for her tears. At length, by a great effort calming herself, she said, "He is ready, my son. The Saviour waits to be gracious. Open your heart to the influences of the Spirit. Give up trying to win heaven by your own merits; trust in the pardoning love of Christ, and you will have peace."
"I have tried to do this, mother. I tried only yesterday. In the midst of all my trouble, I felt that I needed an Almighty arm to rest upon. I went into my room to dress; and I kneeled for a moment by my bed to ask God to forgive my sins for the sake of his Son, and to take me for his own child. But he seemed to be so exalted that I could not realize that he would attend to my humble prayer. Then I begged you to pray for me. Will you pray now, mother?"
She did pray, pouring out her whole heart in supplications for the soul of her son. She was importunate, and besought the mercy-seat as if she would not be denied the blessing.
When they arose, Harrison left the room without speaking.
The next morning, the anxious, waiting mother observed that when Ella ran to him, in her playful way, though he answered her kindly, yet his mind seemed engaged in thought. He listened with deep attention as Mrs. Haven read, according to her custom, from the Scriptures, and soon after took his hat and left the house. But two hours later, when Ella was just leaving for school, she saw him coming out of his room.
"How provoking!" she cried, "that you have been there all this time, when I wanted you so much. But come now, please, and walk to school with me."
He hesitated a moment, and said, "I was just going to find mother"; but she ran and passed him his hat from the rack, and he followed her out, She looked earnestly in his face, thinking his manner was somewhat peculiar, and then asked, "Don't you feel well this morning? you look pale."
"Ella," said he, and his voice was full of feeling, "supposing you had had a very kind friend, who had given you a pleasant home, and done everything to make you happy; and more than all, supposing he had told you that if you would only return the affection he felt for you, he would give you great riches and every blessing that you could desire, would it not be very wicked and ungrateful for you to refuse?"
"Yes, indeed, it would," was the hearty reply.
"Well, Ella, this is just what I have done all my life; and last night, while you and all the others in the house were sleeping, I arose from my bed, and resolved that I would do so no longer; that I would begin at once to love this dear, this best of friends; and, I want you to begin to love him too. Cannot you think who he is, Ella?"
"Jesus Christ," repeated the child, softly.
"I hope you will never go on as I have done," he said, "receiving favors from God, and yet refusing to give him all that he asked in return—the heart. Will you try to love the Saviour now, my dear?"
"Yes, I will," was the tearful reply.
No words of mine can describe the holy joy which filled that mother's heart when her beloved son unfolded to her the deep convictions of his mind, and the peace and love which now filled his soul.
"God has heard and answered me!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands upon her breast.
Mrs. Haven truly rejoiced with her friend at this new token of divine faithfulness.
The next day, when Harrison was going, by appointment, to call upon Mr. Kilby, in reference to their projected tour, Mrs. Danforth asked, "Would it not be better to decline the invitation? I fear it would dissipate your mind at this time." Harrison approached her and whispered, "God will be there, mother; I have given myself to him, and he will protect me from all harm."
IT is painful to turn from so pleasing a picture to one widely different. We must now go back, in imagination, two years, to the time when Alfred Haven turned from his mother's door and fled to a vessel which was lying in the harbor, where he shipped for a long voyage, under the name of Amos Harding. He found it necessary to adopt one with the same initials as his own, because so many of his clothes were marked A. H. These he had packed in a large carpet-bag and bundle, which, as he always disliked work, he easily persuaded a boy whom he found in the streets to carry to the wharf for a few pence. Though in his thirteenth year, he was so large and of so stout a frame that he might easily be mistaken for a boy much older. He determined to take advantage of this circumstance, and demand higher wages. For one of his age, he was already hardened in sin. Idleness and sloth had done their work; and all that had been lovely about the boy had long ago disappeared. With an unblushing countenance, and without the least scruple of conscience, he told his false tale,—that he was from the country, that he had always wanted to go to sea, but that the old folks objected. At last, when they found he was set upon going, they gave their consent to his making a trial of it for one voyage, hoping he would then settle down contentedly upon a farm.
"Have you been used to hard work?" asked the captain, looking with some suspicion at his soft, white hands.