The Home-Coming of Another Dead Man
"The mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small."
For example, there was Robert Palmer, who after thirty years spent in
the gold fields had accumulated considerable treasure. But choosing to
dig for gold and to live among adventurers, thieves, and speculators, he
had come to distrust human nature. He became so secretive that even at
the approach of death, when the kindly French doctor had given him fair
warning, he would confide in only one man. Verily, he had his reward.
Incidentally, the three Californians whom he had named as his executors
prospered. They may not all be included among the forty-one thieves of
this story, but it may not seem unreasonable to suppose that Henry
Francis made it worth while for Hintzen and Haggerty to keep quiet. The
point is that all three executors prospered--and then died penniless.
Hintzen made so much money over at Forest City that he left for Arizona,
where he invested in copper, and lost everything he had. Haggerty, who
remained in his store at Moore's Flat, where he had made money rapidly,
speculated and lost all, including the savings of a few poor people who
had trusted him. Henry Francis speculated in the stock of the famous
Comstock mine, in the adjoining State of Nevada, lost the fortune he had
wrongfully acquired, and died broken-hearted. It was only six years
after Palmer's death that he collapsed, and was taken home to
Reedsville, Pennsylvania.
Here, ostensibly the victim of tuberculosis, he lingered a year to taste
the bitterness of poverty and wretchedness. Then he died, and suffered
the usual eulogy poured out by country ministers.
A charitable author must admit the virtues of his "heavy-villain." The
sun rises upon the evil and the good, and rain descends upon the just
and the unjust, for the simple reason, no doubt, that no other
arrangement would be possible, inasmuch as there are no people who are
entirely good and none who are wholly bad. In every man the forces of
good and evil are at war.
If Henry Francis yielded to temptation there were extenuating
circumstances. In the first place, Robert Palmer's will distinctly
stated that everything was left to the judgment of the executors. They
were to stand firm and resolute on their own judgment "and take time to
settle the concern whether it need one year or twenty years."
Possibly Francis reasoned that investing the old man's money in a
certain way would, within a very few years, double the estate, and thus
render a service to the heirs. And if at the end of three or four years
the event had proved the soundness of his judgment, was it wrong to
exercise that judgment in further ventures? The will gave him twenty
years. Weren't the executors acting "at all times and under all
circumstances to the best of their judgment?" If conscience demurred
that Hintzen and Haggerty were left in the dark, so that "their
judgment" had come to mean simply the judgment of Henry Francis, had he
not proved that judgment good?
He knew that when he had given the heirs to understand that there was no
property, he had prevaricated. But had he not heard their pleas with
patience, just as the old man had directed? And if Robert Palmer's
estate were settled right then, at the end of four years, would the
heirs complain of circumstances which had doubled their inheritance? No
doubt conscience inquired if Francis was thinking of postponing
settlement indefinitely. And no doubt prudence suggested a settlement
now when all was going well. But once let the estate slip from his
control, and he would become a comparatively poor man; while the
twenty-nine heirs might squander their money foolishly.
While he was debating the question, it was only proper to keep the money
well invested. And if at the end of the fifth year his securities had
shrunken seriously in value, it was natural to wait another year for
values to become normal. When the crash came, the injury to his vanity
hurt him more than his wounded conscience; that he had learned to
soothe, but his pride had never before been humbled. And so it was said
that Henry Francis died of a broken heart.
His sister Mary, who nine years before had brought back to Pennsylvania
the corpse of the murdered Cummins, was now summoned to carry another
dead man home. True, he lived a year to contemplate the ruin of fortune
and honor, but he was mortally wounded. Most pathetic of all, he was
resolved to suffer in silence. Brothers and sisters should not share in
his disgrace. He had gambled and lost. But he would not tell them that
he had gambled with his honor.
There is still balm in Gilead, even for a sinner! It was good to feel
the touch of his sister's hand, to taste the delicacies that only she
could prepare. The last long journey over the plains, at the end of
which he would find rest on the hillside where Will Cummins slept, was
almost as peaceful as his. He had renounced the world of thieves and
gamblers, and was going home.
Arrived in his native valley, he marvelled at its beauty. Why had he
ever left it, to risk life and honor in the pursuit of riches? Man's
needs are so simple! How easily he might have thriven among such kindly
neighbors! None of them could be called rich, but they had an abundance
of this world's goods, with something to spare for him, the returned
prodigal. What does it profit a man to gain the wealth of California and
lose his own soul? Had he lost his soul, then? He had proved unfaithful
to his friend. Or had he been simply unfortunate? Ah, well! he hardly
knew. He was eager to see Robert Palmer again in the world to which he
was hastening. Then he would confess all, and be forgiven. For Robert
Palmer had loved him like a son. Yes, that was what made the cup so
bitter!