True Riches: Wealth Without Wings

“Well, Edward, what does your wife say?” Such was the inquiry of Jasper, immediately on the return of his clerk from dinner.

“There will be no difficulty, so far as she is concerned,” the young man answered.

“None, did you say, Edward?”

“None.  She is willing to take the child, under the arrangement you propose.”

“That is, for three hundred dollars a year, to find her in every thing?”

“Yes; until she is twelve years of age.”

“So I understand it.  After that, as the expense of her clothing and education will increase, we can make a new arrangement.  Very well.  I’m glad you have decided to take the child.  It won’t cost you six dollars a week, for the present, I am sure:  so the additional income will be quite a help to you.”

“I don’t know how that will be.  At any rate, we are willing to take the child into our family.”

“Suppose then, Edward, we mutually sign this little agreement to that effect, which I have drawn up.”

And Jasper took a paper from his desk, which he handed to Edward.

“I’ve no objection,” said the latter, after he had read it over.  “It binds me to the maintenance of the child until she is twelve years of age, and you to the payment therefor of three hundred dollars a year, in quarterly payments of seventy-five dollars each.”

“Yes, that is the simple statement of the matter.  You see, I have prepared duplicates:  one for you, and one for myself.  I will sign them first.”

And Jasper took a pen and placed upon each of the documents his sign-manual.

Claire did the same; and a clerk witnessed the signatures.  Each, then, took a copy.  Thus, quickly and fully, was the matter arranged.

This fact of giving to the contract a legal form, was, under the circumstances, the very thing Claire most desired.  He had already begun to see difficulties ahead, so soon as he announced his intention of leaving Jasper’s service; particularly, as no reason that he could give would satisfy the merchant—­difficulties growing out of this new relation as the personal guardian of little Fanny Elder.  The signing of a regular contract for the payment of a certain sum of money, quarterly, for the child’s maintenance, gave him a legal right to collect that sum, should Jasper, from any change of feeling, be disposed at some future time to give him trouble.  This was something gained.

It was with exceeding reluctance that Claire forced himself, during the afternoon, to announce his intention to leave Mr. Jasper.  Had he not promised Mr. Melleville and his wife to do this, it would certainly have been postponed for the present; perhaps altogether.  But his word was passed to both of them, and he felt that to defer the matter would be wrong.  So, an opportunity offering, he said—­

“I believe, Mr. Jasper, that I shall have to leave you.”

“Leave me, Edward!” Mr. Jasper was taken altogether by surprise.  “What is the meaning of this?  You have expressed no dissatisfaction.  What is wrong?”

The position of Edward was a trying one.  He could not state the true reasons for wishing to leave his present situation, without giving great offence, and making, perhaps, an enemy.  This he wished, if possible, to avoid.  A few days before he would not have scrupled at the broadest equivocation, or even at a direct falsehood.  But there had been a birth of better principles in his mind, and he was in the desire to let them govern his conduct.  As he did not answer promptly the question of Jasper as to his reasons for wishing to leave him, the latter said—­

“This seems to be some sudden purpose, Edward.  Are you going to receive a higher salary?”

Still Edward did not reply; but looked worried and irresolute.  Taking it for granted that no motive but a pecuniary one could have prompted this desire for change, Jasper continued—­

“I have been satisfied with you, Edward.  You seem to understand me, and to comprehend my mode of doing business.  I have found you industrious, prompt, and cheerful in performing your duties.  These are qualities not always to be obtained.  I do not, therefore, wish to part with you.  If a hundred, or even a hundred and fifty dollars a year, will be any consideration, your salary is increased from to-day.”

This, to Edward, was unexpected.  He felt more bewildered and irresolute than at first.  So important an advance in his income, set against a reduction of the present amount, was a strong temptation, and he felt his old desires for money arraying themselves in his mind.

“I will think over your offer,” said he.  “I did not expect this.  In the morning I will be prepared to decide.”

“Very well, Edward.  If you remain, your salary will be increased to six hundred and fifty dollars.”

To Claire had now come another hour of darkness.  The little strength, just born of higher principles, was to be sorely tried.  Gold was in one scale, and the heavenly riches that are without wings in the other.  Which was to overbalance?

The moment Claire entered the presence of his wife, on returning home that evening, she saw that a change had taken place—­an unfavourable change; and a shadow fell upon her pure spirit.

“I spoke to Mr. Jasper about leaving him,” he remarked, soon after he came in.

“What did he say?” inquired Edith.

“He does not wish me to go.”

“I do not wonder at that.  But, of course, he is governed merely by a selfish regard to his own interests.”

“He offers to increase my salary to six hundred and fifty dollars,” said Edward, in a voice that left his wife in no doubt as to the effect which this had produced.

“A thousand dollars a year, Edward,” was the serious answer, “would be a poor compensation for such services as he requires.  Loss of self-respect, loss of honour, loss of the immortal soul, are all involved.  Think of this, my dear husband! and do not for a moment hesitate.”

But Edward did hesitate.  This unexpected offer of so important an increase in his salary had excited his love of money, temporarily quiescent.  He saw in such an increase a great temporal good; and this obscured his perception of a higher good, which, a little while before, had been so clear.

“I am not so sure, Edith,” said he, “that all these sad consequences are necessarily involved.  I am under no obligation to deal unfairly with his customers.  My duty will be done, when I sell to them all I can at a fair profit.  If he choose to take an excess of profit in his own dealing, that is his affair.  I need not be partaker in his guilt.”

“Edward!” returned his wife, laying her hand upon his arm, and speaking in a low, impressive voice—­“Do you really believe that you can give satisfaction to Mr. Jasper in all things, and yet keep your conscience void of offence before God and man?  Think of his character and requirements—­think of the kind of service you have, in too many instances, rendered him—­and then say whether it will be possible to satisfy him without putting in jeopardy all that a man should hold dear—­all that is worth living for?  Oh, Edward! do not let this offer blind you for a moment to the real truth.”

“Then you would have me reject the offer?”

“Without an instant’s hesitation, Edward.”

“It is a tempting one.  And then, look at the other side, Edith.  Only four hundred dollars a year, instead of six hundred and fifty.”

“I feel it as no temptation.  The latter sum, in the present case, is by far the better salary, for it will give us higher sources of enjoyment.  What are millions of dollars, and a disquiet mind, compared to a few hundreds, and sweet peace?  If you remain with Jasper, an unhappy spirit will surely steal into our dwelling—­if you take, for the present, your old place with Mr. Melleville, how brightly will each morning’s sun shine in upon us, and how calmly will the blessed evening draw around her curtains of repose!”

Edith had always possessed great influence over her husband.  He loved her very tenderly; and was ever loth to do any thing to which she made opposition.  She was no creature of mere impulse—­of weak caprices—­of captious, yet unbending will.  If she opposed her husband in any thing, it was on the ground of its non-agreement with just principles; and she always sustained her positions with the clearest and most direct modes of argumentation.  Not with elaborate reasonings, but rather in the declaration of things self-evident—­the quick perceptions of a pure, truth-loving mind.  How inestimable the blessing of such a wife!

“No doubt you have the better reason on your side, Edith,” replied her husband, his manner very much subdued.  “But it is difficult for me to unclasp my hand to let fall therefrom the natural good which I can see and estimate, for the seemingly unreal and unsubstantial good that, to your purer vision, looms up so imposingly.”

“Unreal—­unsubstantial—­Edward!” said Edith, in reply to this.  “Are states of mind unreal?”

“I have not always found them so,” was answered.

“Is happiness, or misery, unreal?  Oh, are they not our most palpable realizations?  It is not mere wealth that is sought for as an end—­that is not the natural good for which the many are striving.  It is the mental enjoyment that possession promises—­the state of mind that would be gained through gold as a means.  Is it not so?  Think.”

“Yes—­that is, undoubtedly, the case.”

“But, is it possible for money to give peace and true enjoyment, if, in the spirit, even though not in the letter, violence is done to the laws of both God and man?  Can ill-gotten gain produce heavenly beatitudes?—­and there are none others.  The heart never grows truly warm and joyous except when light from above streams through the darkened vapours with which earth-fires have surrounded it.  Oh, my husband!  Turn yourself away from this world’s false allurements, and seek with me the true riches.  Whatever may be your lot in life—­I care not how poor and humble—­I shall walk erect and cheerful by your side if you have been able to keep a conscience void of offence; but if this be not so, and you bring to me gold and treasure without stint, my head will lie bowed upon my bosom, and my heart throb in low, grief-burdened pulsations.  False lights, believe me, Edward, are hung out by the world, and they lure life’s mariner on to dangerous coasts.  Let us remain on a smooth and sunny sea, while we can, and not tempt the troubled and uncertain wave, unless duty requires the venture.  Then, with virtue at the helm, and the light of God’s love in the sky, we will find a sure haven at last.”

“It shall be as you wish, Edith,” said Claire, as he gazed with admiring affection into the bright and glowing face of his wife, that was lovely in her beautiful enthusiasm.

“No—­no, Edward!  Don’t say as I wish,” was her quick reply.  “I cannot bear that you should act merely under my influence as an external pressure.  If I have seemed to use persuasion, it has not been to force you over to my way of thinking.  But, cannot you see that I am right?  Does not your reason approve of what I say?”

“It does, Edith.  I can see, as well as feel, that you are right.  But, the offer of a present good is a strong temptation.  I speak freely.”

“And I thank you for doing so.  Oh! never conceal from me your inmost thoughts.  You say that you can see as well as feel that I am right?”

“Yes; I freely acknowledge that.”

“Your reason approves what I have said?”

“Fully.”

“This tells you that it will be better for you in the end to accept of four hundred dollars from Mr. Melleville, than to remain with Mr. Jasper at six hundred and fifty?”

“It does, Edith.”

“Then, my husband, let the reason which God has given to you as a guide, direct you now in the right way.  Do not act under influence from me—­for then the act will not be freely your own—­but, as a truly rational, and, therefore, a wise man, choose now the way in which an enlightened reason tells you that you ought to walk.”

“I have chosen, Edith,” was the young man’s low, but firm reply.

“How?” The wife spoke with a sudden, trembling eagerness, and held her breath for an answer.

“I will leave my present place, and return to Mr. Melleville.”

“God be thanked!” came sobbing from the lips of Edith, as she threw herself in unrestrained joy upon the bosom of her husband.