s it 1 a (u r . THE MONEY-MAKER, OTHER TALES. BY JANE C. CAMPBELL, Look, then, into thy heart, and write ! Yes, into life's deep stream ! LONGFELLOW. Society, perhaps, more than any other element of life, gives scope to the extremes of fact and fiction, of caprice and devotion, of frankness and feigning. On the one hand it is a most complete masquerade, and on the other a profound reality. T0CKERMAN. NEW YOEK: J. C. DERBY, 8 PARK PLACE. BOSTON : PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. CINCINNATI : H. \V. DERBY. 1854. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by JAMES C. DERBY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. THOMAS B. SMITH, PRINTED BT STEREOTYPED & ELECTROTYPES. JOHN A. GRAY 216 William Street. 97 Cliff St. DEDICATORY. To thee, beloved, in thy distant home, And the dear dwellers in thy household shrine, "Whose love, and life, are closely bound with thin*) Speeds forth my heart, a pilgrim to old Rome. 2200637 PAGE MONEY-MAKER. 9 CHRISTINE 39 CATHARINE CLAYTON 65 PAUL TALBOT 169 EGBERT DUNNING . 194 BLANCHE ACHESON 216 FARMER'S DAUGHTER 274 THE SEAMSTRESS . ' : 310 THE FIRST STEP 328 A WIFE'S LOVE 335 LAZY PHILANTHROPY 343 CHAPTER I. AS, while a cold, dark current is fretting underneath, the surface of a stream may be bright and placid, glassing the tranquil beauty of a summer heaven, and mirroring the glory of the silent stars ; even so while the smile is on the lip, and the light word on the tongue, there may be gloom within the heart, and a brooding tempest in the soul for life, too, has its under-current of thought, feeling, suffering, which are seldom, if ever, known. We are not disposed to dwell on the dark side of life's picture, and to find naught but sadness and sorrow on the earth ; on the contrary, we gladly drink in every gleam of sunshine with which God brightens our daily path, and hopefully look to see a rainbow shining from every cloud. So, too, though we see many repeatedly giving way to temp- tation, until the power of resistance is gone, yet have we not lost our faith in human nature, for man, though " far gone from original righteousness," still retains the impress of his origin. " Trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home." But to our story. 1* 10 THE MONEY-MAKEK. " Did not Mrs. Mervin look superbly beautiful to- night? As she passed me in her robe of black- velvet, studded with brilliants, with the diamond circlet on her brow, I could not help repeating ' I heard the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls ! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls T " " For shame, Dudley ! it is a desecration of the poet's beautiful imagery to apply it to such a woman." " Come, come, Herbert, you are too fastidious. Mrs. Mervin is an ambitious, fashionable woman ; but tell me, where is the woman who is not ambitious, and who would not if she could, be a leader of the fashion ? You expect too much from them. You expect that although sur- rounded by temptations to luxury in living, and extrava- gance in dress, they will wear the garb of Quakers, and eat the bread of anchorites. Recollect, though you are a descendant of the Knickerbockers, you are not living in the primitive days of the veritable Diedrich. So just take the sex as you find them. A pretty woman is always a pleasant plaything, a little silly, perhaps but that is no- thing. She can waltz as well, and sing as well, and talk as well, as any other puppet ; and this is all that's wanting to while away an idle hour." " Have you forgotten that you are a brother, Dudley ? Have you forgotten Alice ?" Dudley's cheek glowed with honest pride at the mention of his sister's name, for ho thought what fond bachelor brothers will sometimes think, that in the wide world could not be found another woman like his sister. THE MONEY-MAKER. 11 " I was but jesting with you, Herbert. You know that I yield to none in my high appreciation of the noble and truthful in female character ; and I regret that so few woman have firmness sufficient to enable them to turn from the allurements of the world, and find their happiness in the sanctuary of a quiet home. To own the truth, it can hardly be expected from them. They are educated for show, they are dressed for show, they are paraded for show, and what wonder that so many marry for show ! So long as mothers take pains to initiate their daughters into the art and mystery of ' how to get married, and whom to marry,' so long as they teach them that the crowning glory of womanhood is to make a good match, so long will woman be frivolous and heartless, caring more for wealth than worth, and prizing more the money than the man. Now, this is all that Mrs. Mervin has done, and I wonder you are so embittered against her." " No, this is not all. She is not only ambitious but false- hearted. When she married Mervin, she knew that act would crush to the dust one who had long loved her, one whom she had flattered with the belief that he was beloved. But what to her were wasted affections for it does not hold true that ' affection never is wasted; 'what to her were broken vows, when damask lounges and diamond circlets might be had in exchange ?" " And so the lady has been a jilt ! Now, if she had been the jilted, she might have brought an action for breach of promise, and so found a golden cure for the heart-ache, eh, Herbert ?" " I dare say she would have been mercenary enough even for such a despicable transaction. How she ever obtained such an influence over Carlton is unaccountable." 12 THE MONEY-MAKEK. t: But you forget that I do not know the story, and can- not enter into the merits of the case. Perhaps, after all, Mrs. Mervin is not so much to blame as you. in your zeal for your friend, suppose her to be." " Would that it were so. For two years she encouraged Carlton's addresses, and knew that his every hope of hap- piness was bound up in her. Carl ton was not rich, and I had my misgivings that Miss Lumley would not marry him ; but he, poor fellow, was infatuated, and would not listen to a doubt. His health had always been delicate, but with a supposed incentive before him, he allowed him- self no respite from exertion. ' The reward will be so sweet,' he would say, ' is it not worth toiling for ?' He was at last reluctantly compelled to take some relaxation. He left home for a month, and returned to find the woman, for whom he had sacrificed his health, the wife of another ! Having had no intimation of the event, he could hardly be made to believe that it was true. Most men would have felt indignant, and looked with contempt on the woman who could so barter away her truth, and in the engrossing pursuits of active life, or in the joys of a new affection, would have forgotten, or at least grown totally indifferent to the past. But Carlton was not one of these. He was shy, sensitive, loving as a gentle woman and he never re- covered from the shock. Too proud to complain, he veiled his grief under an assumed appearance of gaiety, and so well played the masker that even his friends were deceived. But I knew what was passing within, and saw by his very recklessness that life was without value. In less than a year he was dying, and it was during the night-watches by his bed-side, that I learned to despise the woman who had THE MONEY-MAKER. 13 caused his death. But no good will come of it ; no good can come from falsehood and deceit." " Is this romantic story true, Herbert ? A man dying from wounded affection ! You know ' men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.' Had it been a woman who thus yielded to morbid sensi- tiveness, it were not to be wondered at ; but a man the thing is too absurd !" " Speak not so lightly. There are depths in man's soul as well as in woman's, undreamed of, and unfathomed by the outer world." CHAPTER II. John Mervin was, by many years, the younger c f two brothers, who were early left orphans, with no inheritance save the blessing of their parents, and the oft-repeated ex- hortation to love one another. As the boys grew in years, the elder watched over the younger, toiling from sunrise to sunset, that he might be enabled to defray the expenses of John's education at the district school. Jesse Mervin was one of those unselfish beings who de- light in laboring for those they love without exacting aught in return, and so long had he done this for John, that the latter had come to regard as a right what was owing solely to his brother's affection. Now, John was not really hard- hearted, he had a sort of instinctive love for his brother, but he had a far greater love for himself, than which, no- 14 THE MONEY-MAKER. thing could be more akin to hard-heartedness. He would have repelled the thought that he might forget, or wrong his brother, and it was not without emotion that he parted from Jesse, to go as clerk in a country town. Naturally aspiring, he soon eschewed the counter, left the country, and with his small stock of worldly goods, betook him to seek his fortune in the city. Here he had the " good luck," as he wrote to Jesse, to obtain a subordinate situation in a broker's office ; and so well were his employers pleased with his shrewdness and business capacity, that in time he was made their confidential clerk One step more, into an office of his own and soon John Mervin was one of the most influential men on 'change. Some men seem to leap over all obstacles, and, appar- ently without an effort, place themselves in situations of opulence and trust; while others spend their lives in a vain endeavor to gain a modest competence, and die, leav- ing their object unattained. We will not pause here to inquire what opposite causes produce such widely different results, or how it is that some men so suddenly amass large fortunes. Much might be said about energy and perseverance on the one hand, and the want of those qualities on the other ; but, generally speaking, the secret lies in what is called " a lucky specu- lation," for which the shrewd, worldly-minded money- maker is always on the alert ; while the more conscientious man of business will not take advantage of either the ig- norance or the wants of his fellows. We are not here speaking of wealth acquired by long years of patient de- votion to the counter or the desk, but of those sudden turns in the wheel of fortune which place the un moneyed man of yesterday among the milionaires of to day. THE MONEY-MAKER. 15 Round the heart of the successful broker prosperity had wound a golden coil which avarice was daily tighten- ing, and to him the divine precept, " Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you," was fast becoming a dead letter. Becoming, did we say ? it had already become so ! If he bought stocks at ruinous prices because the holders were pressed for money and must sell, who could blame him, when he paid the current value ? If, at a time when thousands were dying with hunger, he speculated in the misery of his fellows, and filled his coffers with the price of tears and of blood, who could blame him for selling a marketable commodity to the highest bidder ? If he fore- closed a poor man's mortgage at the very hour when it was due, leaving him homeless and penniless, with no alterna- tive save starvation or the alms-house, who could blame him, when it was " so nominated in the bond" ? And thus he went on, adding thousand to thousand, and forgetting that riches can take unto themselves wings and flee away. Did John Mervin ever think of his brother ? Did he remember the warm-hearted Jesse, to whom he owed that education which had been the foundation of his fortune ? He had done so, he had thought of him and remembered him, and had written to him, but it was long ago, years had passed since then, and the coil had been tightened till there was no room left in his heart save for the love of Mammon. At the age of five-and-forty, John Mervin was still un- married. Plain in personal appearance, devoid of intel- lectual culture, and lacking in gentlemanly ease and polish of manner, some over-refined individuals regarded him as a rather unlucky candidate for the favors of Hymen ; but 16 THE MONEY-MAKER. all defects were hidden by a money-laden cloud and a woman broke her truth to catch the golden shower ! The broker's marriage was but a nine-days wonder, but not so the change in his style of living. No more costly building than Mr. Mervin's reared its handsome front in the avenue chosen by wealth and fashion for their proud display ; no more sumptuous furniture than that imported by Mr. Mervin could be found within republican walls ; no carriage more elegant in its appointments than Mr. Mervin's, could be pointed out on the fashionable drive ; and no wife more superbly dressed than Mr. Mervin's, could be seen among the aristocracy of wealth. It was computed that Mervin lived at the rate of twenty or twenty-five thousand dollars a year. And all this vast outlay was warranted by his income so thought the world so, per- haps, thought Mervin himself! Sunk in the richly-brocaded cushions of a rose-wood fautiieil, Mrs. Mervin was glancing at some unpaid bills, which the servant had laid on the table. One was for a tapestry carpet in the dining-room, another for a dessert service of Bohemian glass, and a third for an ermined opera cloak. While she was thus engaged, her husband en- tered the room. She carelessly tossed the papers toward him, and without any other indication that she recognized his presence, turned to the book she had been reading. Mervin felt the insolence of her manner, and his 'iheek flushed, as he said : " When must these be paid ?" With- out raising her ejes from the page, she briefly replied, " To- morrow." He ventured to remonstrate ; " A new carpet was not wanting in the dining-room ; and this cloak, too, why the last one you ordered has been worn but twice." THE MONEY-MAKER. 17 Now she raised her head, and with a cool, contemptuous look, which seemed to ask, ; ' for what did I marry you ?" she said, " I want the money to-morrow, sir." Not another word was spoken. Mervin thrust the bills into his pocket, ate his dinner in silence, dressed his face in smiles, and accompanied his wife to the opera. The next day the lady was bowed into her carriage by the ob- sequious shop-keepers, who secretly laughed at the extrav- agance of their customer. CHAPTBK IIL IT is refreshing to turn from the petty strifes and envy- ings of vulgar souls, the jealous rivalries for the possess- ion of things, beautiful in themselves, but unworthy the all-absorbing pursuit of immortal minds it is refreshing to turn from the passion for show, the thirst for pleasure, the jostling for place and power, the making haste to be rich, which turn the city into one great Babel ; it is re- freshing to turn from these to the simplo, unambitious homes, the loving hearts and contented minds, which are to be found pursuing the even tenor of their way, in green fields and beside clear waters. Not but the country has its temptations as well as the city for sin is everywhere ; but the allurements to evil are fewer, the incentives to guilt are not so strong. Na- ture, in her holy temple, is ever teaching lessons of the wisdom and goodness of God. The sunshine, as it ripens the golden grain, the shower, as it falls upon the parched 18 THE MONEY-MAKER. earth, the green blade of grass as it springs from the lowly ground, the luscious fruit hanging from the laden bough, and the blue heaven smiling upon all, these daily lead the heart to One who maketh the outgoings of the morning and the evening to praise him. Spring has been coy and coquetish this year, now laugh- ing from the hedges and luring you with violets, and again scattering the blossoms and frowning you away. But her reign is nearly over ; as if to show her wealth of beauty, and make you regret her going, she is showering on every side her treasures with a lavish hand. Crocus and cowslip, daffodil and daisy, hyacinth and narcissus, how she delights in flinging them abroad ! She has brushed her robe against the tulip-chalice, and bright- ened it with every rainbow dye. She has perfumed the honey suckle -bells, and sent the tiny humming-bird to quaff the nectar of her breath. Let us follow her footsteps down this narrow lane where the air is scented with hawthorn blossoms, and the tender-foliaged trees are whispering the birds to nestle in their boughs. Under the low projecting eaves of an old farm-house are seated a man of middle age and his son. Two children are playing on the door-step, and in the little kitchen a young girl is preparing the evening meal. Let us enter. There is no tapestry, no rosewood, no damask, to be seen in the small parlor. The floor is covered with striped, country-made carpet; the straight-backed chairs are un- cushioned, and the small windows are half shaded with muslin curtains ; but it is scrupulously clean and neat, and flowers and books remove all appearance of poverty from the homely room. We cannot imagine why some people take such pains to THE MONEY-MAKER. 19 make their apartments so formal and uninviting, with not a book, not a flower, nothing on which the eye can rest with pleasure. The chairs look as if they had been drilled to stand sentinel-like against the walls, the tops of the marble tables gleam cold and chilling as monumental slabs ; and while waiting the appearance of some lady, who is lazily unpapering her curls, we feel half inclined to rise and read the epitaphs upon the tombs. There is no costly china, no massive plate ; but there are grateful hearts, and there is an invoked blessing, as the brother of John Mervin sits down with his family at the frugal board. Jesse Mervin had but once seen his brother since the day when, half blinded with tears, he had looked after him while leaving home. Then he had gone to deposit with the man of easily-acquired wealth, his own hard earnings, that they might be invested in some secure manner, and reserved either as a provision for his old age, or held in trust for his children, if he were gone. He had told John of the great sorrow which had befallen him, how he had lost the partner who for many years had been to him as another self. He dwelt on her virtues, her judicious affec- tion as a mother, her meek and loving deportment as a wife, and he wept as he spoke of his children, and of the delicate infant left without maternal care. Jesse's head, while speaking, was bent upon his hands, and when he looked up for an answering glance of sympathy from his brother, when he listened to hear one kind, consoling word, John's cold gray eye was fastened on the balance- sheet of an account, and his thin lips were fixed in rigid silence. Jesse's heart grew cold within him, he felt as if under the roof of a stranger, and rose to go. Did he see 20 THE MONEY-MAKER. a relaxing of the rich man's chilling indifference that he lingered on the threshold, and longed to press him to his heart ? It was a false hope. A formal shake of the hand, a cold good-by and this was all ! and brother part- ed from brother, not knowing whether they should look on each other again. The long deposited money was now the subject of con- versation between Jesse Mervin and his children. For the last two or three years his affairs had been far from prosperous. The failure of crops, and the loss of some of his best cattle, had greatly decreased his means ; indeed, he found himself so straitened, that it was necessary to use part of the sum which had been placed in the hands of his brother, to whom he had already written on the subject. " If we do not soon get a letter, father, I think it will be better for me to go to New York. I will bring the money more safely than it could be remitted; and I should like to see this rich uncle of mine who knows but he might take a fancy to me, and "help to make my fortune." Although Jesse Mervin had been deeply wounded by the conduct of his brother, yet he never mentioned him unkindly, and wished his children to regard their uncle with respect. He was, therefore, averse to his son's pro- posed visit, for he knew the haughty spirit of the nephew, bound by no tie save that of consanguinity, would not brook the cold looks and repulsive manner which had been meekly borne by the brother, softened as he was by sor- row, and still remembering the loving intercourse of early years. " It will be well to wait, my son, until we hear from your uncle ; and as I cannot this year afford to hire help, it will be impossible for me to spare you before fall.'' THE MONEY-MAKER. 21 " Oh don't think of going, Archie," said his sister, who placed less value on money than on the companionship of her brother, " we could never do without you. And what if. after you had set out on your journey, a letter should arrive from my uncle ?" " There is little fear of that, Lucy. Men who, like my uncle, have thousands passing through their hands daily, seldom think of the small amounts that are deposited with them. Sometimes when a stray bill on the bank for which he some years ago obtained a charter, finds its way out here, I think a few hundreds might be directed to us, and I feel as if I ought to go at once and demand them. Would it not be better for me to do so, father?" " I have already said that I cannot well do without you, my son. But if we are spared until next fall, you may go, provided we do not in the meantime receive a remit- tance from your uncle." Although Archie longed to explore the El Dorado which he supposed was to be found in New York, somewhere in the vicinity of Wall street, yet having been brought up in dutiful submission to parental authority, he quietly yielded to his father's wishes. Summer came and went without bringing the long look- ed for letter. A heavy sickness had prostrated Archie's strength, and in his anxiety for his boy, Jesse Mervin had neglected the culture of his land. Autumn found them bearing with many privations, and their only hope for the coming winter was in obtaining some of the money in the hands of John Mervin. With Archie's illness came de- spondency and gloom in the heart of his father, and even Archie himself lost all buoyancy of spirit. How much sooner does man sink under the burden of 22 THE MONEY-MAKER. harassing cares, than woman. The petty trials of domes- tic life which she daily endures without complaint, would irritate and disgust him. The sickness which will make a man fretful as a spoiled child, a woman patiently bears without a murmur. It is at times like these, when woman soothes the chafed spirit, and lightens man's daily cares, when in sickness she watches his every look, and ministers to him with an unwearying love, it is at times like these, and in the doing such holy and gentle deeds, that woman performs her true mission. " Happy happier far than thou, "With the laurel on thy brow, She that makes the humblest hearth Lovely but to one on earth." But for the firmness, hopefulness, and ever-watchful solicitude of Lucy Mervin, her father would have sunk beneath the burden of his grief. To Lucy's patient, de- voted attentions, under Providence, did her brother owe his life. One would scarcely believe that a young female of slight form, and delicate constitution, could endure so much mental anxiety and bodily fatigue. But Lucy never allowed duties to remain unfulfilled, no matter how wearisome or distasteful they might be ; and now when her whole heart was engaged in the work, what wonder if she accomplished seeming impossibilities ? Her brother never missed her from his side. Whenever he awoke out of sleep, there stood his watchful sister ready , to administer to his wants. Her father wondered if she ever slept, and feared lest her health should give way ; but he was always answered by a bright smile and an assur- ance that she could do more if necessary. THE MONET-MAKER. 23 And yet Lucy had her moments of weariness and de- pression. They came in the still and solemn night, when all but herself were wrapped in slumber. Then came the thought of her father's increasing infirmities, of the help- lessness of the little ones, of her brother's sickness, and perhaps his death ! Then came the blinding tears, and the stifled sobs, the heart-ache and the grief. But the frail girl knew that the " Lord loveth whom he chasteneth ;" she had learned in all her troubles to call upon Him, and in the lonely watches of the night she drew nigh to Him in prayer, and arose from those holy communings with re- newed trust and strength. CHAPTEE IV. BETWEEN Mrs. Mervin and another leader of a fashion- able coterie, had sprung up a ridiculous rivalry, each try- ing to outdo the other in the brilliancy of her entertain- ments and the costliness of her attire. It was because Mrs. Latimer had worn a cloak some- thing like hers, that Mrs. Mervin purchased one of an entirely different pattern ; because Mrs. Latimer's dining- room was carpeted with Brussels, Mrs. Mervin had hers removed, and tapestry substituted in its stead; because Mrs. Latimer's dessert-service was of china, Mrs. Mervin would have hers of ruby-colored and gold Bohemian glass. Mrs. Latimer has worn a beautiful evening-dress, and Mra Mervin hastens to purchase one far more beautiful. " Three hundred, I think you said for this ?" 24 THE MONEY-MAKER " Yes, madara, it is the richest lace dress we have in the store. Here is one at two hundred, a beautiful arti- cle certainly, but not to be compared to the other. Mrs. Latimer took one like this last week, she thought three hundred too much; but there is not another like that you are looking at in the city. Just look at these flowers how exquisitely they are wrought ! worn over a robe of pale rose-color this dress would be perfection itself." " Is this the only one of the kind that you have ?" " The only one, for we do not often import them. Let me put it over this pink poult-de-soic could anything be more charming? I was saying to Mr. Brown, my partner, that this dress would exactly suit the fine taste of Mrs. Mervin, and if you had not called here to-day, I should have sent it for you to look at." " You may put it up for me." "Anything else this morning, madam? laces? em- broideries ? we have received some beautiful capes by the last arrival, which we will sell for one half less than they could be purchased for last fall. Here is an article worth twen- ty dollars, and we offer it at twelve ; it is a great sacrifice, but several large manufacturing houses in Paris are in want of funds, and write us that we may have goods at our own prices." A few laces, a few embroideries, rose-colored silk for the robe, a couple of dresses which she might want, a new opera-hood, a dozen pair of gloves were selected, and Mrs. Mervin left a debt of four hundred dollars, lacking fifty cents, to be added to her account. Six hundred dollars, minus the aforesaid fifty cents, had been spent for dress in one week. " Six hundred dollars !" exclaims some pains- taking, thrifty housewife, " six hundred dollars ! impossi- THE MONEY-MAKER. 25 ble ! Why that is all we have to live on during a whole year !" That may be, my good dame ; there are many, let me tell you, who live on less, arid thankfully too. But you forget that Mrs. Mervin is a money-maker's wife ! A leader in the world of fashion ! Saratoga had murmured sotto voce of the airs of Mrs. Mervin. Newport had spoken loudly of the exclusiveness of Mrs. Mervin, and she had returned from both with greater ideas of her own importance, and a determination to make her winter reunions the most brilliant of the sea- son. Pier husband, if he sometimes had the wish, had not the power to oppose her, and king though he might be in the realm of notes and discounts, at home he was a slave. " On what day does Mrs. Mervin receive calls?" said pretty Mrs. Brunton, in one of her prettiest lisps, as she trifled with the bijouterie in Mrs. Latimer's boudoir. " I do not know, my dear," answered the stately Mrs. Latimer, with a look of ineffable disdain. " You are aware, I suppose, that though neighbors, Mrs. Merviu and niyself are not on visiting terms." " Ciell how stupid I am, I knew it to be sure, but ha forgotten all about it But tell me, cliere amie, how th happens ? Mrs. Merviu's style and costume are faultless. n'esf ce pas . ? " " They are well enough but her manner is wanting i the repose of a high-bred woman." " Do you think so ? Dauforth told me, on seeing Mrs. Mervin after his return from abroad, that she would grace the polished circles of Europe." " He must have been jesting. Dauforth, who belongs to on-" 1 - of our oldest families, couid not uavo said this iu of a purge-proud parv&nue?'* 2 26 THE MONEY-MAKER. Mrs. Brunton winced, for her own importance wa:< owing to her husband's wealth ; but taking no notice of the unlady-like sneer, she continued speaking of Mrs. Mervin. " Her house," everything be it remarked was tiers, not his, or theirs, " her house has been altered during the summer, and a conservatory added to it, in the middle of which is a beautiful fountain." " And in the middle of the beautiful fountain, I suppose, stauds the beautiful Hebe filtering the Croton ! This note- shaving must be a profitable business, when Mr. Mervin can allow his wife to squander so much money in making herself ridiculous." Softly, softly, Mrs. Latimer, you at least think yourself a lady, let not your words contradict your thought. Had anybody else built half a dozen conservatories, with a fountain and a nymph in each, Mrs. Latimer would not have faulted them for so doing ; but of Mrs. Mervin she was both jealous and envious, and these hateful pas- sions embittered her against the. infatuated woman, whose ,'areer should have been cause for pity as well as blame. While Mrs. Mervin's extravagance and passion for dis- play were freely commented on, she remained in blissful ignorance of all ill-natured remarks. Courted for her wealth, and accustomed to have her house, her equipage, \er dress, never mentioned but with the superlatives of praise, she only lived for the gratification of every wish tvhich selfishness, ambition, or vanity dictated. Wretched misuse of the gifts of a good God. More than wretched trifling with the welfare of an immortal soul ! It was rumored that preparations were makirg for an evening party at Mrs. Mervin's, and great was the flutter of excitement to know who would be the favored guests. THE MONEY-MAKER. 27 Three weeks before the event conjecture was at an end, for invitations were then sent to all who, either in point of wealth or fashion, were thought worthy the honor. " I have no doubt the whole thing will be a failure," said Mrs. Latimer to one of the non-admitted. ' How pre- posterous for such a woman to attempt anything of the kind !" " Mrs. Tomkins tells me, my dear, that there is no end to the extravagance that is going on. Porters are con- stantly running to the house, and Mrs. Tomkins wonders how they will dispose of all the parcels and packages that are left there." " Yes, yes, it will be overdone ; it will be vulgar. The woman has so little taste, don't you think so, Mrs. Lynde ?" " To be sure I do, my dear ; what can you look for from such people ? Knowing that they have nothing but their wealth on which to pride themselves, they make a most of- fensive display of it on all occasions. Yes, the thing, as you say, will be vulgar, a complete failure." But the thing was neither vulgar nor a failure. Heart- less and ambitious, Mrs. Mervin was yet a woman of ex- quisite taste, and the beautiful arrangement of her rooms, the rare and exquisite plants in her conservatory, the fra- grant flowers filling every recess and lading the air with perfume, the music which " rose with its voluptuous swell," and the delicate and dainty viands worthy the banquet of a Lucullus, these made Mrs. Mervin's reunion the most brilliant of the season. THE MONEY-MAKSK. CHAPTER V. IN the innermost sanctum of his place of business sat John Mevvin. His thin lips were rigidly compressed, his face was pale and haggard, and his frame bowed with weari- ness. He had been there the whole night, alone, and while darkness was yet struggling with daylight, he stole noise- lessly out, locking the door behind him, and leaving no trace of his vigil. The next night, and the next was the same. With a dim light so placed that no reflection could fall but on the folio before him, with a stealthy tread, as if fearful that the <; very stones would prate of his where- about," with a knitted brow and a muttered imprecation, the man of wealth was looking back into the past. What saw he there ? Impoverished men whose ruin he had hast- ened gaunt and hunger smitten creatures in whose misery he had speculated families without the homes of whose shelter he had robbed them. What more ? A brother who had lain upon his mother's breast, been kissed by Ids mother's lips, cradled in Ids mother's arms a brother his brother crushed with poverty, failing in strength, watching by the sick bed of an only son, and vainly asking for relief ! Not a generous thought, not a good deed, on which the mind could linger. Self, self, before all, and above all, forever, self! It was after a night so spent, when at the regular busi- ness hour he had returned to his office, that a plain, decent- looking man, inquired of one of the clerks if he could sec Mr. Merviu? " Cannot I transact your business, air ?'' THE MONEY-MAKER. 29 " I prefer seeing Mr. Mervin to day." (i You will find him in the inner office, step this way." The man approached the door, and knocked timidly as if awed at his own temerity. " Come in," was called from the inside, and the man en- tered, bowing low to the sole occupant of the room. ;t How are you, Mr. Croome ? how are you? I'm very glad to see you take a seat, take a seat, sir." All this was said so blandly, that the man seemed wholly taken by surprise, and faltered in his purpose. " A fine morning, sir," said Mervin, looking obliquely at his visitor. " Yes sir, very fine." A pause ensued, and Mervin be- gan to grow restless. '" I hope Mrs. Croome and the family are well." Mer- vin did not know whether the man had a family or not. but he hazarded the wish rather than remain silent. " Pretty well, thank you. Mrs. Croome has been ailing a little, but she is coming around again." Another pause ensued, and Mervin showed signs of im- patience by looking at the clock, and taking up the pen, which he had put down on Croome's entrance. " I came to see you on particular business, this morning, Mr. Merviu." Croome spoke low, and looked around as if fearful of being overheard. " I have heard rumors " " Rumors ! of what kind, sir ?" said Mervin, startled from his self-possession. Again the man hesitated. " Speak, sir, what are the rumors J^M have heard? or rather, why do you come to me with them ?" ' Because they concern you. sir." " Me ! how ? in what way? Let me understand you." " The say you are involved, sir." SO THE MONEY-MAKER. " They say, who are they, that know so much about my business ? My dear sir, somebody has been jesting with you." " Well, I hope it is so, for you know, Mr. Mervin, that all I am worth in the world is in your hands." " And it is perfectly safe, I assure you. If you have any doubts upon the subject you can immediately draw the amount. The sum is small, shall I give you a check sir ?" Mervin eyed the man keenly, he saw that he was beginning to hesitate, and he knew that by urging him on to draw the money he would deter him from his purpose. " There is not much credited to your account, I believe, but" and here Mervin smiled significantly " if there is any place in which you think it would be safer than with me, take it by all means." By this time Croome had become ashamed of his sus- picions, and attempted an apology for what he had said. " Don't apologize, Mr. Croome, don't apologize, sir; it is perfectly right that you should wish to place your money in good hands, and as I have told you, it may be drawn immediately." " Thank you, sir, thank you ; I am sure it is safe with you, and if you will be troubled with it, Mr. Mervin, I have another small sum here which my brother wished me to deposit in safe hands." " Perhaps you had better not leave it, Mr. Croome, some safer house will take it for you." Mervin spoke facetiously, and Croome, after again apolo- gizing for his suspicions, left his brother's money in safe keeping with his own. On speeds the flight of time. Mr. Mervin no longer holds nightly vigils at his lonely desk. Suspicion breathes THE MOXEY-MAKER. 31 no whisper against the stability of his fortunes. Mr. Mer- viu is an envied man. Mrs. Mervin queens it proudly in the charmed circle of which she has become the centre, and no courtiers more blindly follow the fashions set by the reigning monarch than does Mrs. Mervin's coterie follow hers. The revellers who had drank so eagerly of the cup of pleasure, were becoming satiated with the draught. Belles of the last season, who still dazzled amid a blaze of jewels and gas, were envying belles of the present who could per- mit the daylight to look upon their charms. Lassitude and ennui were creeping over those who had been gayest in the giddy throng. Once more are they aroused. Mrs. Mervin, as she had opened, so she resolved to close the season with another brilliant fete. Again were conject\ire and gossip at their envious work. " I hear that Mrs. Mervin is having one of her suite of rooms tastefully decorated with panels and draperies, which produce quite an artistic effect, and that tableux-vivants, and acted charades, are to be among the entertainments of the evening. How preposterous ! Is it not, my dear Mrs. Latimer ?" " There is nothing too absurd for Mrs. Mervin. I heard it was the Masque of Comus, with which she meant to as- tonish her guests, and that several of her satellites had been singing and rehearsing for a month past." ' Is it possible ! well, after that she may attempt any- thing. Bat do you think it is true ?' '' Really, I cannot tell, that is what I heard. Is it not too ridiculous to think of Mrs. Mervin setting about to re- vive a court pageant. I wonder you heard nothing about it, Mrs. Lynde." 32 THE MONEY-MAKER. " 1 wonder, too, my dear, for it was Mrs. Brunton who told me about the tableaux and the charades, and she gen- erally knows all about Mrs. Mervin's movements." Clear and cloudless rose the morning sun, and busy were the preparations for the evening festival. There was no hand-writing on the wall, but all day through the heart of the great city, beat a low note of alarm. Rumor came flying on the four winds of heaven, and some men openly wondered, while others shook their heads in silence. A man, travel-soiled and weary, asked a question of an- other who was hurrying by. "I am going there now," was the answer; '"has he robbed you, too ? Curses on his smooth tongue and hypo- critical face !" The wayfarer stopped and looked at his strange com- panion. " Sir, here is some mistake; it is Mr. Mervin, Mr. John Mervin that I am looking for." ' Ay, ay, John Mervin, who took men's money at a time when he must have known it would never be repaid. John Mervin, who with his cursed speculations has ruined many an honest man. Why, sir, it is but a short time since I deposited with him all that my brother had saved in twelve years! and he had my own earnings too I trusted him with all ! And here has this man been living like a prince, and his wife indulging in all sorts of extravagancies, turn- ing up her nose at decent women like Mrs. Croome, who helped her husband save the money that John Mervin and his wife were dashing upon. He's a rascal, sir, and he ought to be punished, sir. Here is his office closed, eh ! pity it was ever opened. He ought to be punished, sir he's a rascal, sir !" THE MONEY MAKER. 33 < : He's my brother, sir," meekly said the weary man, as he leaned for support against the closed door of the bankrupt. " I am sorry, very sorry ! I hope you will forgive me for hurting your feelings ; I did not intend to do so, indeed I did not it never entered my mind that you were his brother." Jesse Mervin did not reply, for his thoughts were con- fused and wandering. He was a stranger, surrounded by strange faces and stunning noises, and bowed with shame to the dust. He had no money to take him back to his home, for it was with difficulty he obtained enough to bring him to the city. He had struggled through sickness and want had left his son still feeble from severe illness had hoped for relief even until now, when he found himself de- ceived and ruined by his brother! A prayer that God would forgive that brother, was all the revenge taken by Jesse Mervin for ingratitude and wrong. He had imbibed the spirit of his Master, the spirit of Him who prayed even for His murderers " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." CHAPTER VI. JUST at the moment when her triumph was at its height when she looked for naught but admiration and applause when her wealth, her position in society, her success in the world of fashion, had filled her heart with overweening vanity just then did Mrs. Mervin fall from her pride of place, and become to the envious a thing for jeers and mirth. Stripped of her ermine and her jewels, and obliged 34 THE MONEY-MAKER. to return to the humble home of her mother, to that home which had witnessed her falsehood, and her base barter of herself for gold ; with ambition and love of show still strong within her, and striving with mortified pride ; she became peevish and irritable, and dragged on an unhappy existence a burden to her friends and a constant source of annoyance to every member of her family. Thus was verified the prediction " That no good could come of false- hood and deceit." John Mervin's sudden failure was like the bursting of a bubble; you looked for it, audio! it was gone ! His had been floating capital, and the winds of extravagance and specu- lation had borne it entirely away ! He was once more poor, poor as when with his bundle and his staff he turned his back upon a brother's love. Nor was this all he might have been unfortunate, and men even while they blamed his rashness, would have pitied his fall. But in the strict scrutiny which his indignant creditors made into his affairs, an attempt at concealment a wide laid scheme of treachery was disclosed, by which the wretched man had thought to appropriate to his own use, what was no longer honestly his. This was the secret of his lonely vigils, when he cautiously took down folio after folio, and stole home before the dawn of day. He had made a fraudulent assignment to one on whose good faith he thought he could rely ; but the quondam friend refused to render back the spoils, absconded with what he had so iniquitously ob- tained, and the deceiver was in turn deceived. Yes, John Mervin had ruined himself, and had dragged down hundreds in his fall. He had ruined himself! His wealth, to which he owed a fictitious importance, had eluded his grasp, and his reputation his honesty his good THE MO KEY- MAKER. 35 name of more value than millions upon millions of sordid gold these priceless jewels he had wickedly thrown away ! In his early career he was hard, grasping, avaricious. None could remember that he had ever fed the hungry, or clothed the naked, or done one kind and generous deed tc a brother man. In later years his wife's ambition had stimulated his vanitj^, and still the object was self! As if there were no life but this no future in which he would be called to give an account of his stewardship as if there were no world but this in which to lay up treasures and no treasures to be laid up but such as perish in the using ! John Mervin suffered the punishment which does not always in this life overtake the wrong-doer, and wandered from the city which had been the scene of his eventful for- tunes. Sick, weary, and with his mind strangely bewildered, he had walked far one day, and his feet were swollen and blistered, and his head ached from exposure to the noon- day sun. Now cool shadows fell from the broad trees, and^ the evening wind fanned his fevered brow. Nature was sing- ing her evening lullaby, and the flowers drooped their petals and folded their leaves, and the birds hushed their songs, and with heads hidden behind their wings, betook them to repose. Slant rays of glory quivered through the trees, as the broad disc of the golden sun disappeared behind a mass of crimsoned clouds. ' Still lingered twilight at heaven's western gate," making broad paths of radiance on which angels might descend to earth. A little deeper grew the shade a little deeper and then uprose the har- vest-moon, flooding both earth and heaven with silvery 36 THE MONEY-MAKEK. light. Calm, peaceful, holy was the scene, and under its softening influence the hard-hearted, the avaricious, the ruined man bowed his head and wept! He bowed his head and wept, bitterly, in agony he wept ! The fountain of thought was stirred, and earnestly, sorrowfully, did he gaze into the troubled waters ! For about an hour he sat thus, then rose and tottered to a house not far distant. Through an open window he saw the family at their evening devotions. They were praying to the God whom he had for so many years for- gotten to the God to whom in childhood he had been taught to pray. Awed and conscience-smitten, he turned away. Again he went back and put his foot on the thresh- old, but his heart failed him and he crept away toward the barn. Pulling out the wooden pin that fastened the latch, he entered, and overcome by fatigue sat down and fell Asleep. A cloudless morning shed its light on the dew-bejeweled earth, and the flowers raised their heads, and the birds shook their plumage and soared heavenward, singing their matin song. The lowing of cattle, the tinkling of bells, the whirring of insect wings, and the thousand sounds of life were heard on every side, but the tired traveller did not awake ! Two men left the house on the threshold of which he faltered the night before. They stood looking at a broad field of maize which covered a gentle slope, and was fast ripening in the genial sunshine. On every side were marks of thrift and care. Not a spot that could be ren- dered available was left untilled, and silken swathed corn, and bearded grain, alike promised a rich harvest. " Thank God, the abundance of this year's crop will THE MONET-MAKER. 87 make up for the failure of the last," said the eldei ot the two men, " and Mr. Croome shall have a barrel of fiour from my best wheat as soon as it is ready." " You have paid him all he lent to bring you home, I believe, father." ' : Yes, but his kindness I can never repay. The poor man has been a heavy loser by my brother's failure, and now that you have grown strong again. Archie, and that Providence has blessed our labors, we must try and do something to help Mr. Croome." " Isn't it strange, father, that nothing can be heard of my uncle ? I often wonder where he has gone, or what has become of him don't you ?" This was the one subject on which Jesse Mervin seldom spoke to his children, and could he have concealed his brother's guilt, he would gladly have done so. But when he returned home sick and dispirited, with no money save what had been loaned him by a stranger, concealment was no longer possible. " Yes, I wonder, too, my son, and it is my daily prayer that I may live to see him once more. How comfortable he could be with us, Archie. "Well, well, God knows best." The two men now turned their steps toward the barn, and Jesse Mervin was the first to enter. As he did so he started, for just inside the door lay a man poorly clad, his head resting on one arm, while his face was partly con- cealed by the other. " Here is some unfortunate being who must have been intoxicated and lain down to sleep. Help me a little, Archie, and we will put him on the hay. this is rather a hard bed for him." Jesse Mervin stooped down, and as he attempted to 38 THE MOXEY-MAKER. raise the stranger, the hand fell which had covered the face, and exposed to view the emaciated features. " Just God ! can this be he ? 0, I dreamed not of such a meeting when I prayed that I might see him again." Archie Mervin needed no more to tell him who it was that lay before them, and he hastened to the side of his father, who in agony was rubbing the hands, and chafing the temples of the apparently lifeless man. " Speak to me, John only one word speak to me do you know me ? it ^is rne it is Jesse it is your brother John ! John ! for God's sake speak to me !" John Mervin's chest heaved his lips moved his eyes opened, and he looked at his brother. 0, the imploring agony of that look ! 0, the anguish of him who bent to hear the gasping sounds that struggled for utterance ! " For-give me for-give me broth-er." " As I hope for forgiveness from God, so do I forgive you, my brother." Jesse felt the relaxing fingers striving to return his grasp. Over the face of the dying man came a faint smile, the shadow of what had rested there in boyhood and again, John Mervin slept ! But now it was a sleep over which a brother's voice had no power ! A sleep that would never more be broken un- til the trump of the archangel awake the dead! In the outhouse of the brother to whom he had been so ungrate- ful in the arms of the brother whom he had so cruelly wronged, stripped of the wealth for which he had hardened his heart and periled his salvation John Mervin slept ! r $ r i s t ? UNCLE WALTER'S STORY. ..-.., i/,, 7T5 !