"SOMETHING BETTER FOR THE CHILDREN THAN MONEY."
After her newly found uncle had left her, Charlotte Home sat on by the
fire; her face was very pale; she looked a quite broken-down and
troubled woman. Little Anne, almost on tiptoe, crept into the room. She
was all quivering with excitement. She expected her mistress to turn to
her--almost to fling her arms around her neck--to thank her with the
warmest expressions for what she had done.
"Anne," rehearsed the little maid, imagining Charlotte's words, "you
have saved us all; you are our lifelong benefactor. Henceforth partake
of our wealth. Be not only our servant, but our friend."
This was how matters would have been managed in the _Family Herald_.
Anne raised expectant eyes to her mistress's face, but one glance at it
scattered her golden visions. She softly lifted up the tea-tray and
withdrew. Her faith and hope had gone down to zero. She was a very
dispirited little girl as she returned to her kitchen. That uncle from
Australia was not a rich uncle. Missis would never look so miserable if
he was rich. As a poor relation he was no use whatever; and Anne had
done nothing for the family she loved. Oh, how _very_ disappointing life
was after all!
Meanwhile what now troubled Charlotte Home had very little to do with
Uncle Sandy's possible gold. She was solving another problem, and the
task was a difficult one.
For the past month Charlotte had been making up her mind to a certain
line of action. Before she left Torquay her resolution was formed. She
had been over four weeks there, and during those four weeks she and her
boy had lived on Charlotte Harman's money. That money had saved the life
of her child. When she first saw it and thanked for it, and each
succeeding day, each succeeding hour, as she saw the color which was
health, and the appetite which was life, returning to her darling, the
conviction was growing upon her, that her hand could never inflict a
blow upon the woman who had done so much for her. Her children wanted
money, and her husband wanted money, and she herself too! A little dip
into this world's softnesses, she owned, would be very pleasant; but,
for all that, her hand must be still; her lips could not speak to cause
pain and agony to one who had done so much for her. Miss Harman was
going to be married. Was it possible that on the eve of her marriage
she, Charlotte Home, could deal to her so cruel a blow? No, it was not
possible. For Charlotte's sake, her father and uncle might keep their
ill-gotten wealth. Mrs. Home believed more and more firmly that she and
hers were robbed of their money. But now she could do nothing. She had
been so treated by her enemy's daughter that to appear against that
daughter's father would be impossible. As this conviction came to her,
and she resolved to act upon it, and to let all chance of recovering her
lost wealth go, a wonderful peace and calm stole over her. She almost
used to fancy she heard the voice of God saying to her,--
"I will provide for your children, I can give them riches. There are
better things to be won for those little ones than what money can give.
There is such a thing as a heavy purse and a poor and empty heart.
Suppose I fill those hearts with goodness, and greatness, and
generosity, and love; is not that a better portion for these creatures
who are to live for all eternity than the gold which lasts only for a
time?"
Yes, Charlotte felt that it was a better portion. And such peace and
contentment came to this woman during the last week at Torquay that she
thought it the happiest week of her whole life. But now--now she sat by
her own hearth in troubled maze. She had come back to find her resolve
sorely shaken. With no one to help her, she had resolved to let her
chance of riches go. She came back to find an unexpected deliverer come
to her. A strong, brave, practical man had appeared. This man was her
own uncle--her beloved mother's brother. He knew how to act. While she
alone must stumble in the dark, he would know what to do. He would--he
could get her back her own. It seemed hard to reject such help; and yet
her resolve was scarcely shaken, and the temptation, though severe, was
not allowed to prevail. The voice of God was still talking to the woman,
and she was not turning from Him.
Since the life of her child had been given back to her, a great softness
and sweetness had come to Mrs. Home; she had tasted of a mother's
bitterest cup, but God had not asked her to drink it to the dregs. Her
dark eyes, always beautiful, had now grown very lovely, being filled
with a tenderness which not only took in her own child, but, for his
sake, all the other children in the world.
Yes, Charlotte loved God as she had never loved Him before, and it was
becoming impossible for her to do that which might pain Him. After a
time her husband came in, and the two sat and talked for some time. They
had a great deal to say, and the hours flew on as each poured out a full
heart to the other.
After a time Charlotte told of her visit from the uncle whom she had
supposed for so many years to be dead. Mr. Home was interested, and
asked many questions. Charlotte repeated, almost word for word, what
Uncle Sandy had said. Her husband regarded her attentively. After a time
he spoke.
"Lottie, you remember when first you told me that queer story about your
father's will?"
"Yes," she said.
"I own I did not believe it; I own I thought very little about it. I ask
your pardon, my dear. I now believe you are right."
"Oh, Angus!" a great flood of color came up to her face. "Oh! why," she
added in a voice of pain, "why do you say this to me now?"
"Partly from what your uncle said to-night; partly for another reason.
The fact is, my dear wife, while you were away I had a visit from your
half-brother, Mr. Jasper Harman.".
"Angus!"
"Yes, he came here one evening. He told a tale, and he made a
proposition. His tale was a lame one; his proposition scarcely came well
from his lips. He evidently thought of me as of one unworldly and
unpractical. I believe I am unpractical, but he never guessed that in my
capacity as clergyman I have had much to do with sinners. This man has a
conscience by no means void of offence. He is hardened. Charlotte, when
I saw him, I instantly believed your story."
Mr. Home then told his wife the whole of his interview with Jasper
Harman, and the proposal he had made to settle on Charlotte and on her
children the three thousand pounds which had been her mother's for that
mother's lifetime.
"I gave him no answer, my Lottie," he said in conclusion. "I told him
you were away--that I would tell you all on your return."
"Then the decision is to rest with me, Angus?"
"Yes, I think it must."
"You do not mind whether I decline or accept?"
"I trust you absolutely. You shall do as you think best."
After this Mrs. Home was silent for a moment or two; then she got up,
went on her knees by her husband's side, and laying her head against his
breast, said,--
"We will be poor, my darling--poor and blessed. I will not touch their
gold."
"My Lottie!" he answered. He did not quite understand her, but his heart
began to beat.
"I will tell you all in a few words, Angus. I longed for money--be my
reason base or noble, I longed for money. A month ago how sorely we
needed it! God saw our need and sent it to us. He sent it through a
channel and by a means which tried my proud heart. I accepted the
gracious boon, and, when I accepted it, instantly I loved the giver; I
loved--I love Charlotte Harman. She is innocent of all wrong. Angus, I
cannot disturb her peace. My uncle has come home. My uncle, with his
knowledge and his worldly skill, could now win my cause for me, and get
back for me and mine what is ours. I will not let him. These old men may
keep their ill-gotten wealth, for I cannot break the daughter's heart. I
made my resolve at Torquay, Angus; and, though I own I have been tempted
to-night--yes, I believe I have been tempted--still I must let this
money go. I will leave those wicked men to God; but I cannot take their
punishment into my own hands. And, Angus, dearest, neither can I take
that small sum of money; for, though I cannot prosecute, neither can I
accept a bribe. This money comes as a bribe. Is it not so?"
"Yes, Lottie, I fear it is so."
"I am right not to take it?"
"You are absolutely right."
"Then we will not touch it. I and mine can live without it."
"You and yours can live well and nobly without it, my most precious
wife."
"Ah! there is rest and peace in my heart; and the little house, though
so poor and shabby, seems very home-like. Angus, I am so tired after all
this! I will go to bed."
Long after his wife had left him, the husband remained up. He had gone
down on his knees, and he remained there for some hours. He had to thank
God for his Charlotte, but even while he thanked a weight was heavy on
his heart. Sin was very terrible to this man, and he feared that a very
grievous sin had been committed. Long, long, into the night he cried to
God for these sinners.