A MISER ROBBED
FRESKEL VALDEN did not return with the hunting party to Carfoos, nor
did he go home with Grubert, his children and his guest. He managed to
slip away unobserved, and betook himself to several different places
in the forest where he had set traps and snares. In one of these he
found a cock-of-the-woods, in another a hare, which he hid away in some
secret nook known only to himself, there to await his convenience in
the matter of carrying them home or to Pastor Oshart.
He had some food in his pocket, with which to satisfy the cravings of
hunger. And as soon as it was dark, (which at this season was before
four o'clock in the afternoon), he turned his steps towards the lake,
and reaching its margin, took a long, careful look round, then crossed
over at a rapid run, and was soon hidden in the shadow of the rocky
island.
As for Grubert, Tonie and Blonda, they spent the rest of the day very
happily, the two former making and carving things out of wood, the
latter mending her father's and brother's garments. But they had much
to talk over, much to plan, for the present General Nicolai had given
them amounted to 200 roubles—about £20 of our money—a very large sum to
people accustomed to handle only a small weekly wage, barely sufficient
for the simplest daily requirements.
They were still discussing the important matter, and offering
suggestions to each other, when supper-time came. And after eating
their frugal meal, they were about to resume work till it was time to
go to bed, when they fancied they heard a little noise just outside the
front door.
Blonda ran and opened it and looked out. She could see no one, however,
and was about to shut out the keen night air, when she caught sight of
a queer-looking bundle in the corner, close to the lowest hinge of the
door.
"Why, what can this be?" she cried, as she picked it up.
And closing the door, she brought the bundle back into the room under
the light of the lamp. And as she unrolled it, she gave a little cry
of satisfaction, for there, soiled and crumpled, was her lost piece of
towelling, not a yard of it missing.
"Well, if a ghost borrowed it," said Blonda merrily, "a ghost has
brought it back."
"It would have been more civil," said Tonie, "if that same ghost had
washed and ironed out the linen before returning it, but I suppose we
must not expect too much of ghostly courtesy and good nature."
But while these light-hearted children were talking thus, the ghost
himself—as wretched and miserable as ever a ghost could be—was
gliding noiselessly over the snow through the woods, looking up now
and again to the moon and starlit heaven, and showing two great dark
eyes wild and reckless, full of misery and despair. Yet this face so
sadly contorted, these eyes so terribly changed, belonged to the one
light-hearted, simple-natured Freskel Valden.
The lad's laggard steps were not like the light, swift stride of former
days, and it took longer than usual to reach the pastor's dwelling.
Yet when he did so, he hesitated irresolutely for some minutes before
knocking, and muttered to himself in muffled tones. At last, taking
courage, he knocked. The door was at once opened by the good pastor
himself.
"Ah, Freskel, so it is thou?" he said. "Come in and have some supper
with me. I was just sitting down to mine."
The lad did not seem to hear what the old man said. He staggered in,
feeling his way almost as a blind man might do. Then suddenly looking
up, he found Pastor Oshart's kind, anxious eyes fixed upon his face.
"My father," said he, making a step forward and catching hold of the
pastor's arm, "it is all over—Freskel has lost all—and—and—" Here the
lad's voice broke in a hard, dry sob.
"Why, what is this, my son?" questioned the good old man tenderly. "I
understand thee not; thou speakest in riddles. Surely such as thou and
I, my Freskel, have nothing to lose, and therein lies one comfort of
being poor."
"Alas, you know not!" cried Freskel. "I kept it from you."
"Kept what from me, my son?"
"My secret, my great secret!" cried the boy, his eyes gleaming wildly.
"And now it is all of no use. Some one has found out its hiding-place
and stolen it away, and poor Freskel no longer cares to live."
"Hush! Oh, hush, my child!" said the old man. "These are wild and
wicked words. Try to tell me the whole story quite simply, and let me
judge of thy loss. It may be that I can help and comfort thee."
But Freskel shook his head. "No, no," he said, "no one can help. But I
will tell you, my father—tell you all. My father knows the story of the
Isle of Ghosts and of the treasure there?"
"Yes, surely, Freskel. Has not every child heard this fable and in his
turn believed it?"
"But what if it be no fable, dear pastor?" cried the lad, his eyes
kindling and a sudden colour flushing his pale cheeks. "What if it
were true, my father? And what—Oh, pastor, the story is no fable—the
treasure is real, not fairy gold. I found it—I, Freskel—myself, the
night I swam across the lake to hide Rolf Bresser's bag of money."
"Gently, Freskel; what didst thou find?" asked the old man.
"The robbers' treasure," whispered the lad. "I looked for some safe
place wherein to hide the bag, and a stone rolled over, and underneath
was a hollow like a basin—a large basin—and in the hollow a round box
of iron, open and full of gold and silver money that shone in the
moonlight. I lifted some in my hand and poured it back like a gold and
silver fountain. And then—"
"Yes, Freskel, and then?"
"Then I feared to tell any one, lest I should not be suffered to keep
all the money; and I could not bear to think of parting with one little
coin. So I kept silence. But as oft as I could, I went to the island,
and uncovered my treasure, and tried to count the pieces, and played
with them. And lest any should come and search and find my money, I
acted the ghost to frighten them away, wrapping myself in a length of
white stuff which I took from the house of Grubert Reuss when no one
was at hand.
"Oh, my pastor, look not on me so sternly; I returned the linen cloth
to-night, for poor Freskel's treasure is gone, and what need is there
any longer for a ghost?"
"My poor lad, thou hast greatly sinned," said the old man. "This evil
spirit of covetousness and greed is one of Satan's messengers, and see
into what sins that spirit hath led thee! Tell me, my child, would it
have been possible to thee in former times to have stolen from dear
little Blonda the fruit of her hard toil, so that thou mightest more
readily deceive others? And again, Freskel, hast thou not also lied to
cover thy fault?"
"Alas! Yes, father, that have I indeed."
"Covetousness, theft, lying, deceit—a terrible list of sins, my child!
I know that it is not easy for thee always to choose between right and
wrong, and far be it from me to judge thee too hardly in this matter.
But before I speak to thee further about thine own faults, Freskel,
I would ask what makes thee think that thou hast found the ancient
treasure of the legend? Were the coins very old and barbarous looking?"
"No, my father; they are even like the gold and silver of our own
country."
"Strange!" muttered Pastor Oshart to himself. "That can be no ancient
hoard."
"And thou hast not a single coin that thou couldst show me, Freskel?"
"Not one, my father. All were beneath the stone, and all have gone. And
yet I was there only last night, and from the island I saw Blonda and
Tonie skating on the lake. And when they stopped (seeing, perhaps, the
light I had with me), I wrapped myself in the white linen and cried
out, and then vanished quickly, even as a ghost should. After that they
went away, and I ran back by a path that would cross theirs and so
home. But oh, my father, I must tell you that now my beautiful, shining
hoard is gone, I care for nothing any more."
"Listen, Freskel," cried the old man, sitting down and drawing the poor
lad nearer to him, "listen. Once in the very long ago, when our Lord
Jesus Christ was on earth and taught the people, mingling with the poor
and sinful and working miracles among them, there came to him a rich
young ruler, and asked him what he must do to inherit eternal life. It
was a great question, Freskel, one which we should all ask in our turn.
Wouldst thou know what the Master answered?"
"Yes, I would know," replied the lad.
The old man continued: "Our Lord spake to the young ruler, reminding
him of the commandments which were part of God's law to Israel. And he
answered, 'All these have I kept from my youth up. What lack I yet?'
"Then Jesus said unto him, 'If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that
thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven,
and come, follow Me.'"
"What?" exclaimed Freskel. "Sell all—all and he so rich?"
"Even so," replied Pastor Oshart.
"And what did that young man?" asked Freskel, fixing eager eyes on the
pastor's face.
"He did as too many people do whom Christ calls to make sacrifices for
His sake," replied the old man. "'He went away sorrowful, for he had
great possessions.'
"Ah, Freskel, this love of money—this clinging to wealth—makes it very
hard to follow Jesus. Our Lord goes before us, and the path is often
rugged, and hills are steep, and the snares and pitfalls of the way
are many; and yet we try to toil along after Him, dragging with us our
heavy chains of gold and our burden of precious things, and we see
not that while we are greedily clutching what we already have, or are
eagerly searching for fresh treasure, the Lord passes on and is no more
seen of us, the example of Jesus is forgotten, His love and favour are
no longer the one thing needful for us.
"My boy, we cannot serve God and mammon, and unless we are willing to
give up all for His sake, we are not worthy of Him and we are none of
His."
"I have nothing left to give up," replied Freskel sadly. "All that I
had is gone."
"Child," answered Pastor Oshart tenderly, "Perhaps the Lord saw that so
long as thy heart and mind were set upon this treasure of thine, there
was room for nothing else; and so, in His providence, He has suffered
it to be taken from thee. Dost thou understand? Let me put it plainer.
Suppose that in the garden of some tender earthly father grew a certain
tree, the fruit of which, though sweet to the taste, made the children
loathe the wholesome food needful to keep them in health. Should we
count that father worthy of blame, Freskel, or think him cruel, if he
cut down the tree and removed temptation from his little ones?"
"No, dear pastor, the father would only be kind in doing so."
"And thus it is with God, my son. If He takes from us that which we
love, why is it, but that our hearts may cling to Him rather than to
that which cannot help us. Tell me, Freskel, hast thou been happy all
this time since the secret hoard became thine?"
"Happy? Oh, no," replied the lad, "for I was ever in fear."
"But the real treasure," said Pastor Oshart, "the blessing of God,
maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow—no, nor fear which hath torment.
Oh, my poor child, hear to-day, if never before, the tender voice of
Jesus, who saith, 'Follow Me, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven.'
"Hear Him who calls the weary and the heavy laden and the sorrowful,
and gives them rest, and who says to all who will hearken to His word,
'Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust
do corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up for
yourselves treasure in heaven, . . . for where your treasure is, there
will your heart be also.'"
"O pastor! O my father!" cried Freskel, throwing himself on his knees
at the old man's feet, in a passion of contrite tears. "Pray to the
Good Lord for Freskel that Satan have him not. Dear pastor, does not
Jesus know that poor Freskel is like a child, and foolish? And if He
knows, will He not forgive? Tell me the truth, my father; though I have
sinned and forgotten Him, will Jesus pardon?"
The good old man drew the weeping lad to his heart, and while his own
tears fell thick and fast, he said, "Be comforted, my son! Thy sorrow
for the sin which thou hast sinned is the pledge of God's forgiveness.
Come, let us unburden our hearts before Him, and those hearts, emptied
of all earthly treasure, shall be filled by Him; yes, henceforth,
through His grace, by Him alone."