MY FATHER, MUCH TO HIS SURPRISE, HAS A BIT OF LAND TO PUT HIS FOOT UPON,
AND SAY, "THIS IS MY OWN."
"You're too late, Tom," said Ben the Whaler, as I jumped down from off
the basket of the coach; "the old woman died last night."
"I'm sorry for it, Ben," replied I, "as she wished so much to see me;
but I did not receive Anderson's letter till this morning, and I could
not get here sooner."
This intelligence induced me to direct my course to the hospital, where
I had no doubt that I should find old Anderson, and obtain every
information. I met him as he was walking towards the bench on the
terrace facing the river, where he usually was seated when the weather
was fine. "Well, Tom," said he, "I expected you, and did hope that you
would have been here sooner. Come, sit down here, and I will give you
the information which I know you have most at your heart. The old woman
made a very happy end. I was with her till she died. She left many
kind wishes for you, and I think her only regret was that she did not
see you before she was called away."
"Poor old Nanny! she had suffered much."
"Yes, and there are great excuses to be made for her; and as we feel so
here, surely there will be indulgence from above, where the secrets of
all hearts are known. She was not insane, Tom; but from the time that
she supposed that her son had been gibbeted, there was something like
insanity about her: the blow had oppressed her brain--it had stupefied
her, and blunted her moral sense of right and wrong. She told me, after
you had communicated to her that her son was in the hospital, and had
died penitent, that she felt as if a heavy weight had been taken off her
mind; that she had been rid of an oppression which had ever borne down
her faculties--a sort of giddiness and confusion in the brain, which had
made her indifferent, if not reckless, to everything; and I do believe
it, from the change which took place in her during the short time which
has since elapsed."
"What change was that? for you know that I have been too busy during the
short intervals I have been here to call upon her."
"A change in her appearance and manners: she appeared to recover in part
her former position in life; she was always clean in her person, as far
as she could be in such a shop as hers; and if she had nothing else, she
always had a clean cap and apron."
"Indeed?"
"Yes; and on Sundays she dressed very neat and tidy. She did not go to
church, but she purchased a large Bible and a pair of spectacles, and
was often to be seen reading it at the door; and when I talked to her
she was glad to enter upon serious things. I spoke to her about her
fondness for money, and pointed out that it was a sin. She replied that
she did feel very fond of money for a long while, for she always thought
that some one was nigh her snatching at it, and had done so ever since
her son had robbed her; but that since she knew what had become of him
she did not feel fond of it--that is, not so fond of it as before; and I
believe that such was the case. Her love of money arose from her
peculiar state of mind. She had many comforts about her house when she
died, which were not in it when I called to see her at the time when she
was first ill; but her purchasing the large Bible on account of the
print was to me a satisfactory proof that she had no longer such
avaricious feelings."
"I am very glad to hear all this, Anderson, I assure you, for she was
one of my earliest friends, and I loved her."
"Not more than she loved you, Tom. Her last words almost were calling
down blessings on your head; and, thanks be to God! she died as a
Christian should die, and, I trust, is now happy."
"Amen!" said I; for I was much moved at Anderson's discourse.
After a pause Anderson said, "You know, Tom, that she has left you all
that she had. She told me before that such was her intention, although
I said nothing to you about it, but I thought it as well that Mr Wilson
should make out a paper for her to put her name to, which she did. Ben
and I witnessed it, but as for what she has left you, I cannot imagine
it can be much, for we examined and found no money except about seven
pounds in two small boxes: and then in her will she has left your sister
Virginia ten pounds; now, when that comes to be paid, I'm sure I don't
know whether the things in the shop will fetch so much money as will pay
your sister's legacy and the expenses of her funeral."
"It's of no consequence," replied I, smiling; "but we shall see. At all
events, all her debts shall be paid, and her funeral shall be decent and
respectable. Good bye now, Anderson, I must go up and see my mother and
sister."
Old Nanny's remains were consigned to the tomb on the following Monday.
Her funeral was, as I had desired it to be, very respectable, and she
was followed to the grave by Anderson, my father, Ben, and me. As soon
as it was over, I requested Anderson to walk with me to Mr Wilson's.
"I'm afraid, Tom," said Mr Wilson, "you'll find, like a great many
other residuary legatees, that you've not gained much by the
compliment."
"Nevertheless, will you oblige me by walking down with Anderson and me
to her house?"
"And take off the seals, I presume, in your presence? But the fact is,
Tom, that not thinking the property quite safe there, even under seal, I
have kept it all in my own pocket."
"Nevertheless, oblige me by coming down."
"Oh, with all my heart, since you do not like to take possession unless
in due form."
As soon as we arrived at the hovel, I went into the bed-room, and threw
open the window. I then, to their great astonishment, went to the
fire-grate, threw out some rubbish which was put into it, pulled up the
iron back, and removed the bricks. In a short time I produced two small
boxes, one of them very heavy. There was nothing else in the hole.
"Here," said I, "Mr Wilson, is a portion of the property which you have
overlooked."
"No wonder," replied he. "Pray let us see what it is."
I opened the boxes, and, to their surprise, made up in a variety of
packages, I counted out gold coin to the amount of four hundred and
twenty pounds.
"Not a bad legacy," said Mr Wilson. "Then you knew of this?"
"Of course; I have known it some time--ever since the attempt to rob
her."
"But what are those papers?"
On one was written "_Arsenic-Poison_;" on the other, "_Receipt for
Toothache_."
"Nothing of any value," said I, "by the outside."
I opened them, and found, to my surprise, bank-notes to the exact amount
of two hundred pounds.
"Well, I declare," said I, smiling, "I had nearly thrown all this money
away."
"And now you see what induced the old woman to write those labels on the
outside of it: in case she should be robbed, that the robbers might have
thrown the papers away--as you nearly did, and as very probably they
might have done."
"Well, Mr Wilson, I have no further search to make. Will you oblige me
by taking care of this money for me?"
"Yes; that is, if you'll carry the gold, which is rather heavy, up to my
house, and then I will give you a receipt for the whole."
Anderson then left us, and I followed Mr Wilson home. As soon as the
money was all re-counted, and a note made of it, Mr Wilson asked me
what I wished that he should do with it. I replied, what was the truth,
that I really did not know what to do with it, but still I should like
to lay it out in something tangible.
"You want to buy a farm, I suppose, and be a landed proprietor, like
Bramble; but I'm afraid there is not enough. But I tell you what, Tom:
we lawyers know many things which do not come to everybody's ears, and I
know that the proprietor of the house in which your mother lives wishes
to sell it; and I think, as he is much pinched for money, that this sum
will about buy it. Now your mother pays fifty-five guineas a year for
it, and if it sells for six hundred pounds, that will give you more than
nine per cent for your money. What do you think?"
"Well, sir, I think it's the very best thing I can do; if more should be
necessary, I have saved a little besides, which Bramble takes care of.
Well, then, I'll see about it."
A few days afterwards Mr Wilson told me that the house was to be had
for five hundred and sixty pounds, and that he had closed the bargain.
"I thank you, sir," replied I. "Since I have been with you I have been
thinking about it, and I wish now you would make it over to my father
for his life. You see, sir, my father does put my mother to some
expense, and I should like him to be more independent of her. If the
house belongs to him, the rent will more than meet any demands he may
make upon her purse--and it will be pleasant for both parties--and my
mother will pay more respect to my father."
"I shall do it with pleasure, Tom. You deserve money, for you make a
good use of it--I must say that. Come to me to-morrow."
The next day I went to my father, and gave him the deed by which he was
owner of my mother's house. "Well, now, Tom," said he, after I had
explained why I did so, "this is the kindest thing that ever was done,
and God bless you, boy, and a thousand thanks. I shan't mind now
calling for two extra pots of porter when I have friends--and I say,
Tom, is the garden mine too?"
"Yes, and the summer-house, father, all your own property."
"Well, then," replied he, chuckling, "I have a bit of land of my own to
stick my timber toe on after all. Well, I never did expect that. I
must go up there, and stand upon it, and feel how I feel."
I communicated to my mother that my father was in future her landlord,
at which she expressed much surprise, until I told her how I became
possessed of the money. When my father came in, which he did shortly
after, she said rather sharply:--
"Well, Mr Saunders, I suppose I must pay you my rent now every
quarter?"
"Pay me!" exclaimed my father; "come, not so bad as that, neither.
Haven't you found me in beer, without a grumble, for these many years,
and do you think I've forgotten it? No, no! You've been a kind woman
to me, after all, although things did go a little cross at first, and so
here's the paper for you to keep for me; and there's an end of the
matter, only--"
"Only what?" inquired my mother, looking very kindly at my father.
"Only let's have a pot of beer now, to drink Tom's health, that's all."
Having thus satisfactorily settled this point, I returned to Chatham. I
had promised to take a farewell of my sister and the O'Connors, as I
expected they would leave previous to my again coming up the river.