"Man wants but little here below."
Mr. Delancey's funeral was scarcely over, before Guly received a
message, stating that his friend the dwarf, was very ill, and desired to
see him. The ragged boy, who brought the message, offered to act as
guide to the cripple's hovel, remarking, that Richard said Monsieur
would give him a dime for so doing. The money was readily bestowed, and
in a few minutes Guly stood by the bedside of his wretched friend.
Everything about the place indicated poverty, destitution, and filth,
and the dwarf lay curled up, in the last stages of cholera, beneath the
few rags which served him for a covering. It was evident no physician
had been called, and it was now too late for one to do any good.
"Hih, hih, Monsieur," squeaked the poor old man; "come, at last, eh?
Look a long time for you; very cold, Monsieur, very."
Guly took the cramped and chilling hands in his, and strove to warm them
there.
"Hih, hih, Monsieur; poor little dwarf's time's come at last. Can't talk
much, Monsieur; but got very much to say."
"Don't exert yourself much, Richard."
"Only one little. I must improve my time. Ugh! Monsieur; that cramp was
very dreadful!"
A moment of silence ensued, broken only by the rattling respiration of
the expiring dwarf.
"Underneath this bed, Monsieur, and underneath the broad plank in the
floor--when I am gone, Monsieur, look, and you will find one strong box.
It holds a little money--only a little--which I have got for little odd
jobs and begging. After I am under the ground, that is yours. You are
the only one ever really kind to poor Richard, and now that he's going
away for ever, he wants you to remember him kindly."
"I could do it without this, Richard, always."
"No matter, Monsieur; dat is yours. Ugh! Monsieur, 'tis so cold. Don't
forget--under the broad plank. Think I'll be a straight man in the other
world, Monsieur?"
"Yes, Richard."
"Think you will know and love me there?"
"I hope so, Richard."
"So do I; in my heart, I do. Ugh! ugh! how cold. Give me your blessing,
Monsieur."
"God bless you, Richard."
"Ugh, Monsieur, I am going. Good-bye. There is a time when life ceases
to be sweet. Hih, hih!"
The poor cripple threw himself over towards the wall; and, with a
shivering moan, died.
Guly gave the remains of his friend a decent funeral, and afterwards
proceeded to find the strong-box, which his last request had been for
him to seek. He found it in the designated place--strong-box indeed, and
very heavy. On lifting the lid, the following words, scrawled on a bit
of paper, in the dwarf's own hand, met his eye:--
"For Gulian Pratt--the only man who ever gave me money without seeming
to begrudge it."
Just beneath was written:--
"Love ye one another."
Upon counting the contents of the box, Guly found himself the possessor
of forty thousand dollars, the miserly savings of his crippled friend.
Verily, "Cast thy bread upon the waters, and after many days it shall be
returned to thee."
He had enough to wed Blanche now! With a bounding heart, the boy hurried
to her side, to tell her all. He did so, in the presence of Mrs.
Belmont.
"It required no fortune on your part," said the lady, kindly, "to have
made your suit prosper with Blanche. To have known she loved you would
have been sufficient, for to see her the bride of one whom I know to be
so noble and good, is the highest boon I could ask for her. You are
both, however, too young as yet to wed; but if, in two years' time, you
find your love unchanged, you then shall have my sanction and my
blessing."
Two years! dear reader, they pass quickly with young hearts, and they
were soon flown. In the softened shadow of the old cathedral windows--at
the altar, where once before they had stood with Della and
Bernard--Blanche and Guly took their places, side by side, with no one
to divide them now or ever, in after life. There had come but little
change upon them since we saw them last, save that Guly's hair had more
of the brown and less of the golden about it, and his face grown even
more noble in its lofty expression. As the ceremony was ended, they
turned to leave the church, but a stranger, tall and dark, stood in
their path.
There was a moment's doubtful pause, then the brothers were clasped in
each other's arms!
Those who had filled the building, to note the marriage ceremony, filed
slowly out; and the wedding-party still stood in the dim and shadowy
aisles, forgetful of all about them in this new joy--the delight of this
unexpected meeting--and the hurried explanations which, even here,
Arthur was induced to give. He told of long and lonely months in distant
lands, of weary hours and heavy days, of fierce struggles with his
rebellious spirit; of battles with his stubborn pride, and resistance to
the force of evil habits. He told, too, with his handsome lip quivering
with emotion, how the wild struggle ceased at last, and "the peace of
God, which passeth all understanding," came to his troubled breast.
"And," continued he, "with my love and trust in 'Him who doeth all
things well,' once more restored to my rebel heart, I found myself
possessed of renewed energy, and an indomitable spirit of perseverance,
which seemed to conquer all difficulties. I made many friends, and
acquired much wealth, and then started for my native land. I rfeached
it,--a crowd about these doors drew me hither, and you know the rest.
The old times at No. -- Chartres-street hang over my manhood only as a
finger of warning, and I have learned that they alone can tread a
prosperous path in this life, who follow God's Guide-board, which is the
Bible, and trust to His finger to point it out to them."
The joyous party left at once for the shores of the Hudson. There Arthur
re-purchased the old homestead for his mother, and remained "a single
man," the comfort and blessing of her old age. And every summer sees
Blanche and Guly there, while "_Uncle Arthur_" looks out upon the lawn,
watching the bright figures flitting among the trees, and smiles to see
the shadows falling by them, as in the olden time.
THE END.