IN WHICH PHIL TAKES CHARGE OF MRS. WHIPPLETON'S EARTHLY TREASURE.
I had not seen Mrs. Whippleton for a week, during which time she had
been confined to her room, and I was surprised at the change which had
taken place in her during that time. She appeared to have lost one half
of her flesh, and her face was very thin and pale.
"I didn't like to call you up at this time of night, Philip, but I
wanted to see you very bad," said she, in feeble tones. "I'm a very
sick woman."
"I hope you will get better," I answered.
"I hope so too, but there's no knowin'."
"I didn't know you were very sick."
"Perhaps I hain't been till to-day. The doctor looked kind o' anxious
to-night when he came; and I've been a good deal worried."
"You must be calm, Mrs. Whippleton."
"I try to be, but I can't; and I don't think anybody could in my
situation. I don't know but I'm goin' to die."
"Let us hope not. But I trust you are prepared to die," I added, with
due solemnity; for I confess that the dreadful thing about her case was
the idea of being hurried into eternity with only the worldly wisdom
she had preached to me to sustain her in the trying ordeal.
"No, I'm not prepared to die. I've got thirty thousand dollars--"
"I wouldn't trouble myself about money, Mrs. Whippleton," I interposed.
"That's what I wanted to see you for," said she, looking at me with
apparent astonishment.
"Do not think of business while you are sick, Mrs. Whippleton."
"But I must think of it. I have felt so bad today, that I didn't know
as I should get well."
"So much the more need, then, of thinking of other things than money."
"I suppose you think I'm a very great sinner," she added.
"We are all sinners, Mrs. Whippleton; and we are all great sinners."
"Well, I ain't any worse'n the rest on 'em. But I don't want to talk
about them things now. I've got somethin' else on my mind. I've got
thirty thousand dollars--"
"But I would not think of that now."
"I must think on't. It worries me. I know you are an honest young man,
Philip; and I can't say that I know of another one in the whole world."
"That's a harsh judgment; but if I am honest, it is because I believe
in God and try to do his will."
"I suppose you are right, Philip. I wish I was better than I am; but as
I ain't, 'tain't no use to cry about it. I didn't send for you to
preach to me, though I hain't no kind o' doubt I need it as bad as any
on 'em. Ever since I fust see you in the steam car I believed you was
honest, and meant to do just about what's right. Set up a little closer
to me, for I don't want to tell the world what I'm goin' to say to you.
I believe I can trust you, Philip."
"I always try to do what is right, and I have no doubt I succeed better
than those that don't try at all," I replied, finding that it was
useless to attempt to talk to her of anything except money and
business; though I hoped, when these important topics were disposed of,
that she would be reasonable on matters of more consequence.
Certainly her appearance was very much altered, and she spoke of dying.
Young as I was, I had already been in the presence of death, and I
thought that matters of the soul's concern ought to be attended to
before anything else.
"You knew that my son Charles has been here to-night?" continued Mrs.
Whippleton.
"No, I have not seen him."
"He was; and he has been here every night for a week, pestering me
almost to death, when I'm sick. He's fretting what little life there is
left to me out of my body."
"Why, what's the matter with him?"
"He wants money--all I've got in the world, if I'll give it to him. He
says he shall be ruined if he can't get it."
"Indeed!"
"I don't know nothin' about it, but he says something's wrong in the
firm. He wants forty thousand dollars, and must have it, or be ruined
and disgraced. Don't you tell a soul what I'm saying to you, Philip."
A flood of light was suddenly cast in upon my perplexed understanding.
Forty thousand dollars! That was about the amount of the mysterious
invoices. After this revelation I had no difficulty in believing that
Mr. Whippleton had been using the money of the firm in his private land
speculations. The invoices were fictitious, and this explanation showed
me why the junior partner did not wish me to mention them to any one. I
even thought I comprehended the nature of Mr. Whippleton's sudden
illness when I showed him my trial balance. Now he was trying to get
the money from his mother to make good his accounts with the firm.
I was grieved and amazed at the revelation thus forced upon me. I
understood the old lady's principles, or rather her want of principles,
and granting that she had given him her code of worldly wisdom, as she
had to me, it was not strange that he should turn out to be a thief and
a swindler. However hard and disgusting it may seem, there was
something like poetic justice in his coming to her upon her sick bed,
perhaps her dying bed, to demand the means of repairing his frauds. I
pitied my landlady in her deep distress, but surely worldly wisdom
could produce no different result.
[Illustration: PHIL RECEIVES THE OLD LADY'S TREASURE. Page 129.]
"See here, Philip," she continued, raising her head with difficulty
from the pillow, and taking from beneath it a great leather
pocket-book, distended by its contents. "There's seven thousand
dollars, besides notes and bonds for twenty-three thousand more, in
it."
"Why do you keep so much money in the house, Mrs. Whippleton? It isn't
safe."
"I know that; I had it in the bank till Charles began to pester me, and
then I drew it all out the very day I was taken sick."
"But it was safe in the bank."
"No, 'twan't. I was afraid Charles would forge a check and draw it."
"He wouldn't do such a thing as that."
"I hope he wouldn't, but I was afraid he would. This pocket-book was in
that bureau drawer till Charles came to-night. He went there and tried
to get it. I don't know but he would have got it if my nuss hadn't come
in. He said he was coming again to-morrow morning, and would have the
money; so I got up, and put the pocket-book under my pillow."
"Certainly he wouldn't take it away from you," I added, shocked at the
old lady's story.
"I don't know's he would, but I was afraid on't."
"But you haven't forty thousand dollars here."
"There's the bonds, which will sell for all they cost me, and more too,
besides the interest on 'em; and it would all come to over thirty
thousand. Charles offers to give me a mortgage on his lands worth three
times the amount, and pay me ten per cent. interest besides."
"Why don't you do it, then?"
"I don't believe in his lands. Because folks say he's got bit in his
lands, and can't sell for what he gin for 'em, though he says they will
fetch three times what they cost him. If they'd fetch what he gin for
'em he'd sell 'em. I almost know he's got bit on 'em. But he can't have
my money; he owes me ten thousand dollars now. I've worked hard for
what little I've got, and I ain't a goin' to have it fooled away in no
land speculation."
It seemed to me that the old lady understood her son's case perfectly;
and my own observation fully confirmed her statement. The junior
partner was certainly in a tight place.
"My two married daughters, that need the money more'n Charles does,
would never get a cent of my property if I should let him have it. I
ain't a goin' to do it, not if I should die afore mornin'."
"I don't think you are in any immediate danger, Mrs. Whippleton," I
replied; and I did not believe that one who could talk as fast as she
did was in any present peril.
"But Charles will pester the life out of me to get this money and these
papers. I'm afraid he's been doin' something that's wrong."
"What do you wish me to do for you?"
"I'll tell you, Philip. I know you're honest, and I will trust you just
as far as any human bein' can be trusted," she continued; but she
paused again, and I concluded that she was not quite satisfied to trust
even me.
"You believe I can trust you--don't you?" she added, taking the
valuable package from under the bed-clothes.
"You must be your own judge, Mrs. Whippleton."
"I know I can!" she exclaimed, suddenly. "You would not rob a poor
woman who is on her dying bed."
"I certainly would not."
"At any rate, I know Charles would rob me of every dollar I have in the
world, and think he was smart to do it; but I don't believe you would,"
said she, extending the package towards me.
"What do you wish me to do with it?" I replied, taking her
treasure--her only treasure, it seemed to me, either in earth or in
heaven.
It was only the treasure where thieves break through and steal; and the
thief was at hand--one whom she had trained up in the ways of worldly
wisdom.
"I don't know; only put it where Charles can't get it; that's all."
"But I have no safe place for it."
"You can put it somewhere. I feel better now it is out of my hands,"
she added, with a deep sigh.
"Really, Mrs. Whippleton, I can't take charge of this. I am afraid it
would make me as miserable as it has you."
"You must take it, Philip. You are the only honest man I know of. Keep
it safe, and when I'm gone,--if I'm goin' this time,--don't give it to
anybody but my administrator."
"I don't like to take it, Mrs. Whippleton."
"That's the very reason why I want you to take it. If you was more
willing, I shouldn't be so anxious to give it to you. I know you'll be
careful of it."
"I will tell you what I will do with it, if you are willing. I want to
go to St. Louis to see my father. If Mr. Whippleton will let me off
to-morrow, for a few days, I will go then. I will seal up the package,
and my father will keep it in his safe."
"Is your father honest?"
"He is."
"He must be if he is your father. Do as you think best. If he can put
the money out at interest for me, I should like it all the better."
"Very well. I will give you my receipt for this package, and that will
at least be evidence that I took it, and at your request."
I put the treasure in my pocket, and then led the conversation into
another channel. I tried to awaken in her mind an interest in that
other treasure, where thieves do not break through nor steal; but she
was tired, and said she wanted to rest. She had talked so much that she
was all worn out. She was a sad spectacle to me, and though she had
gathered together a considerable fortune, it seemed to me that her life
was a failure; she had not realized the true success.
I went to my room, opened the package, and made out a list of all the
valuable papers which it contained. I wrote a receipt for them and for
the money, and then, with the treasure under my pillow, I went to
sleep. The next morning I called upon the old lady, and gave her the
receipt. The nurse thought she was better, and said she had slept very
well after I left her. Mrs. Whippleton told me she was willing to pay
my expenses to St. Louis, and I might take the money for the purpose
from the package.