LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      “Mercy on us, and the door not locked!”

      Mrs. Richards flew to it all in a tremble and locked it, then pulled down the window-shades and stood frightened, worried, and wondering if there was anything else she could do toward making herself and the money more safe. She listened awhile for burglars, then surrendered to curiosity, and went back to the lamp and finished reading the paper:

      I am a foreigner, and am presently going back to my own country, to remain there permanently. I am grateful to America for what I have received at her hands during my long stay under her flag; and to one of her citizens – a citizen of Hadleyburg – I am especially grateful for a great kindness done me a year or two ago. Two great kindnesses in fact. I will explain. I was a gambler. I say I was. I was a ruined gambler. I arrived in this village at night, hungry and without a penny. I asked for help – in the dark; I was ashamed to beg in the light. I begged of the right man. He gave me twenty dollars – that is to say, he gave me life, as I considered it. He also gave me fortune; for out of that money I have made myself rich at the gaming-table. And finally, a remark which he made to me has remained with me to this day, and has at last conquered me; and in conquering has saved the remnant of my morals: I shall gamble no more. Now I have no idea who that man was, but I want him found, and I want him to have this money, to give away, throw away, or keep, as he pleases. It is merely my way of testifying my gratitude to him. If I could stay, I would find him myself; but no matter, he will be found. This is an honest town, an incorruptible town, and I know I can trust it without fear. This man can be identified by the remark which he made to me; I feel persuaded that he will remember it.

      And now my plan is this: If you prefer to conduct the inquiry privately, do so. Tell the contents of this present writing to anyone who is likely to be the right man. If he shall answer, ‘I am the man; the remark I made was so-and-so,’ apply the test – to wit: open the sack, and in it you will find a sealed envelope containing that remark. If the remark mentioned by the candidate tallies with it, give him the money, and ask no further questions, for he is certainly the right man.

      But if you shall prefer a public inquiry, then publish this present writing in the local paper – with these instructions added, to wit: Thirty days from now, let the candidate appear at the town-hall at eight in the evening (Friday), and hand his remark, in a sealed envelope, to the Rev. Mr. Burgess (if he will be kind enough to act); and let Mr. Burgess there and then destroy the seals of the sack, open it, and see if the remark is correct: if correct, let the money be delivered, with my sincere gratitude, to my benefactor thus identified.

      Mrs. Richards sat down, gently quivering with excitement, and was soon lost in thinkings – after this pattern: “What a strange thing it is! . . . And what a fortune for that kind man who set his bread afloat upon the waters! . . . If it had only been my husband that did it! – for we are so poor, so old and poor! . . .” Then, with a sigh – “But it was not my Edward; no, it was not he that gave a stranger twenty dollars. It is a pity too; I see it now . . .” Then, with a shudder – “But it is gamblers’ money! the wages of sin; we couldn’t take it; we couldn’t touch it. I don’t like to be near it; it seems a defilement.” She moved to a farther chair . . . “I wish Edward would come, and take it to the bank; a burglar might come at any moment; it is dreadful to be here all alone with it.”

      At eleven Mr. Richards arrived, and while his wife was saying “I am so glad you’ve come!” he was saying, “I am so tired – tired clear out; it is dreadful to be poor, and have to make these dismal journeys at my time of life. Always at the grind, grind, grind, on a salary – another man’s slave, and he sitting at home in his slippers, rich and comfortable.”

      “I am so sorry for you, Edward, you know that; but be comforted; we have our livelihood; we have our good name—”

      “Yes, Mary, and that is everything. Don’t mind my talk – it’s just a moment’s irritation and doesn’t mean anything. Kiss me – there, it’s all gone now, and I am not complaining any more. What have you been getting? What’s in the sack?”

      Then his wife told him the great secret. It dazed him for a moment; then he said:

      “It weighs a hundred and sixty pounds? Why, Mary, it’s for-ty thou-sand dollars – think of it – a whole fortune! Not ten men in this village are worth that much. Give me the paper.”

      He skimmed through it and said:

      “Isn’t it an adventure! Why, it’s a romance; it’s like the impossible things one reads about in books, and never sees in life.” He was well stirred up now; cheerful, even gleeful. He tapped his old wife on the cheek, and said humorously, “Why, we’re rich, Mary, rich; all we’ve got to do is to bury the money and burn the papers. If the gambler ever comes to inquire, we’ll merely look coldly upon him and say: ‘What is this nonsense you are talking? We have never heard of you and your sack of gold before;’ and then he would look foolish, and—”

      “And in the meantime, while you are running on with your jokes, the money is still here, and it is fast getting along toward burglar-time.”

      “True. Very well, what shall we do – make the inquiry private? No, not that; it would spoil the romance. The public method is better. Think what a noise it will make! And it will make all the other towns jealous; for no stranger would trust such a thing to any town but Hadleyburg, and they know it. It’s a great card for us. I must get to the printing-office now, or I shall be too late.”

      “But stop – stop – don’t leave me here alone with it, Edward!”

      But he was gone. For only a little while, however. Not far from his own house he met the editor-proprietor of the paper, and gave him the document, and said, “Here is a good thing for you, Cox – put it in.”

      “It may be too late, Mr. Richards, but I’ll see.”

      At home again, he and his wife sat down to talk the charming mystery over; they were in no condition for sleep. The first question was, Who could the citizen have been who gave the stranger the twenty dollars? It seemed a simple one; both answered it in the same breath—

      “Barclay Goodson.”

      “Yes,” said Richards, “he could have done it, and it would have been like him, but there’s not another in the town.”

      “Everybody will grant that, Edward – grant it privately, anyway. For six months, now, the village has been its own proper self once more – honest, narrow, self-righteous, and stingy.”

      “It is what he always called it, to the day of his death – said it right out publicly, too.”

      “Yes, and he was hated for it.”

      “Oh, of course; but he didn’t care. I reckon he was the best-hated man among us, except the Reverend Burgess.”

      “Well, Burgess deserves it – he will never get another congregation here. Mean as the town is, it knows how to estimate him. Edward, doesn’t it seem odd that the stranger should appoint Burgess to deliver the money?”

      “Well, yes – it does. That is – that is—”

      “Why so much that-is-ing? Would you select him?”

      “Mary, maybe the stranger knows him better than this village does.”

      “Much that would help Burgess!”

      The husband seemed perplexed for an answer; the wife kept a steady eye upon him, and waited. Finally Richards said, with the hesitancy of one who is making a statement which is likely to encounter doubt,

      “Mary, Burgess is not a bad man.”

      His wife was certainly surprised.

      “Nonsense!” she exclaimed.

      “He is not a bad man. I know. The whole of his unpopularity had its foundation in that one thing – the thing that made so much noise.”

      “That ‘one thing,’ indeed! As if that ‘one thing’ wasn’t

Скачать книгу