Kitabı oku: «Owen's Fortune; Or, "Durable Riches"», sayfa 2

CHAPTER II.
CHANGES

MR. HADLEIGH was a tall, thin, anxious-looking man, a great contrast to his son. He entered the room slowly, and sat down in the arm-chair by the fire, as if he were very weary.

"Are you not well, father?" asked Owen, anxiously.

"I have had a long walk, my son. I shall be better when I have had some tea."

Owen was accustomed to wait upon his father, and soon put the tea in the little teapot, and set it down by the fire to brew while he fetched the bread and butter out of a neighbouring cupboard, and cutting a slice of bread off the loaf, he knelt down before the fire to toast it. Mrs. Mitchell meanwhile put her irons away, and folded up the remaining clothes without a word, except just as she was tying on her bonnet she ventured to say, "I suppose you got through your business, Mr. Hadleigh. It seems to have knocked you up a bit."

"Yes; the result was what I expected. But I am more concerned for others than for myself."

"God can see after them, and care for them even better than you can. His ways are always better than ours."

"No doubt; but one cannot always realise it," said the schoolmaster wearily.

Mrs. Mitchell ventured no more than a quiet "good-night," as she saw Owen was listening to the conversation, evidently desiring to know what they meant. But when she was by herself out in the road, she said softly, "Poor things, they are both in trouble. Mr. Hadleigh is a clever man, no doubt, and gets the children on wonderful; but he has not got that quiet trust in God that Mrs. Hadleigh had. God give it him!"

Just as she turned the corner of the lane leading to her cottage, she met the vicar.

"Ha, Mrs. Mitchell, I have just been to your cottage, but your little girl told me you were not in yet. I hear that Mr. Hadleigh has some trouble pressing upon him. I have thought him looking anxious and careworn for some time; but he is such a reserved man, one cannot get much out of him. I thought perhaps you could give me a hint how I could help him."

"Indeed, sir, I wish you would go and see him; I fear he is in a sad way. He has not been feeling well for a long time, though he will not own it. He will not go to Dr. Benson for fear all the village should talk; but to-day he went over to Allenbury to see Dr. Foster, and he has evidently told him some bad news about himself, for he seemed very low when he came in; but Owen was there, so I could not ask."

"No; the poor boy will feel it sadly if his father is really seriously ill. I never saw such deep attachment between father and son."

Meanwhile Owen and his father were having a little talk. The poor boy seemed very uneasy during tea, and as soon as he had cleared away the remains of the meal, he sat down on his accustomed seat by his father's side, and said anxiously, "What is it father? Something is wrong, I am sure."

Mr. Hadleigh put his hand on the boy's head for a few moments without speaking. Presently he said, "You have often talked of making your fortune, Owen; how should you like to go to your Uncle James, and learn his business as a beginning?"

"I should like to go into business very well, father, but I could not leave you. You will not send me away?"

"No, I will not do that, but I may have to leave you, Owen. The doctor says my heart is seriously diseased."

Mr. Hadleigh could get no further for the look of dismay that crept over his son's face. But, boy-like he would not let the tears fall, keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed on the fire, till his voice was calm enough to say, "Perhaps the doctor was mistaken, and you may get better. Doctors are often wrong."

"It may be," returned Mr. Hadleigh, anxious not to grieve the boy too much at first.

While they were talking, Mr. Sturt, the vicar, came in, and Owen gladly took the opportunity of escaping upstairs for a while. It was a sore trouble to him, for he loved his father devotedly; but after the first grief was over, hope took her place again, and the boy went downstairs more cheerfully than his father expected.

The days and weeks passed by, and things went on much as usual for Owen. His father still taught in the school, and the boy did all he could to help him, sweeping out the schoolroom, and getting up in the dark mornings to light the fire before his father was out of bed—in every way he could, trying to lessen his father's work. But Mr. Hadleigh's health was not again alluded to. No doubt he spoke of it to Mrs. Mitchell, who was often in and out, but Owen heard nothing of it, and he began to hope it was all a mistake. The winter came in early, with sharp frosts and snow, and Owen, with his friend Sam, was often on the ponds a good part of the day, sliding and skating to his heart's content.

One evening, as he ran home glowing with exercise and fun, his father asked him, "How shall you like the town, Owen? It will be a great contrast to the country."

"I should not like it at all, father; except, I suppose, one can get more money there."

"Yes, I suppose so. Your uncle is reckoned a rich man, and he has always been annoyed with me that I did not go into business too; but I had no taste for it. Country life always had greater charms for me, even with less to live upon. But I think you will get on, Owen; you have more push in you than I ever had. Only don't let the earthly fortune that you desire, blind your eyes to the heavenly riches. I neglected them too long, and though I can thank God that He has saved me, yet I often fear I shall have little reward yonder, for I have hidden my hope in my own breast, and have been content to keep my riches to myself, instead of trading with them. Mind that you do otherwise, Owen. Seek first the kingdom of God, and all other things needful, food and clothing, shall be added unto you."

These were the last words that Owen ever heard from his father's lips. He had not seemed worse that night, but before the next morning he had passed away. At first Owen was inconsolable, and would not be comforted at all. But kind neighbours gathered round, and in the evening his uncle arrived, having been telegraphed for by Mr. Sturt, according to Mr. Hadleigh's instructions.

Mr. James Hadleigh was a great contrast to his brother; he was a strong, active man, quick, business-like, and energetic. He seemed to know exactly what to do, and speedily made all arrangements. He could not stay long in the village, of course; he had his business to attend to. But he had promised his brother to look after Owen, and he would take him back with him. A few of his brother's belongings were packed up for the boy, but the rest Mr. James Hadleigh decided should be sold. There were several things that Owen greatly desired to keep; the arm-chair that his father used, a small cabinet which contained botanical specimens that his father had collected, some books of his mother's, and other treasures. But his uncle spoke decidedly—

"Nonsense; they are mostly old things. I cannot have my house filled with lumber. Your clothes and a few books are all that I can allow you to take; the remainder must be sold. The money will be useful to you, till you are able to earn something. I began life with half-a-crown, and by laying it out judiciously, have obtained a tolerable income for myself. You will have more than I had, and ought to do better."

Owen did not say more then, but when he went up to the vicarage to bid good-bye to Mr. Sturt, he told him of his trouble. The vicar listened sympathisingly; he knew well that such treasures are not to be valued with money, and he felt, too, that such home-valuables might be helps to the boy amid the temptations of a town life. This little glimpse of Mr. James Hadleigh's character, too, made him fear that the boy would have very different surroundings to what he had been accustomed; but he determined not to discourage him, so he only said, kindly—

"I am sorry your uncle has not more room for your belongings; but I think I can help you. I will buy those things you value most, and when you have a room where you can put them, you shall have them again."

"Thank you, sir," said Owen, gratefully. "I will pay you back all you give for them, sir. I am going to make my fortune, and do the best I can."

"I hope indeed you will do the best you can whatever your hands find to do. But as to making your fortune, that is another matter, and I don't know that I can wish you success in that. Seek the heavenly riches, my boy, and amid all the lower aims of earth, keep your heart fresh and pure by yielding yourself to the Saviour, and asking His grace to live only for Him."

The next day Owen and his uncle started on their journey; they had a long way to go, and it was quite a novelty to Owen to go any distance in a train. At first he was very sorrowful; the little village had been his home all his life, and he felt that no other place could ever be the same to him. His eyes filled as he thought of his dear father, but he was glad to know that he was doing just what his father wished in going with his uncle. By-and-by the train stopped at a station, and when they went on again, Owen found that he and his uncle were alone in the carriage. He wished he would talk to him; his father would have pointed out places of interest, and been so companionable, but his uncle seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"Have we much farther to go, please?" ventured Owen at last.

"About an hour more," said his uncle, turning round, as if suddenly aware of his presence. "What can you do?" he asked, after a pause; "have you been accustomed to work at all?"

"I did odd jobs about the house, sir, but I never went out to work; father wanted me to learn all I could."

"Wanted to make a scholar of you, did he?"

"No; but he said learning was always a good thing, and he would give me as much as he could."

"Humph, your father was always an unpractical man. You might have been earning a nice little sum now."

"Perhaps I shall be able to work better for what father taught me," said the boy, timidly.

Mr. Hadleigh looked at his orphan nephew, and said more kindly, "Perhaps you will; your father was a good man, though he did not know how to make money. Do you know much of arithmetic?"

"Yes, I am very fond of it."

"That's a good thing; a quick reckoner is valuable in business. Of course you know you will have to work. Your aunt and Clarice both help, and I can keep no idler on the premises."

"Is Clarice my cousin?"

"Yes; she is some years older than you, though. She helps me with the books, and makes a good business woman. I think that everybody, young people specially, should stick to their work. If people did that, there would not be so many poor about."

"But people cannot help being poor, can they? Some are always richer than others."

"That may be, but all can earn their own living, if they will. If not, they have no business to live."

Owen was rather startled at this view of things, and did not reply. But the end of the journey was nearly reached; already he saw tall chimneys and spires, and numbers of houses in the distance, and soon they were in that dull haze that always surrounds large towns. But there was no time to think about it, for the train pulled up at a large station, and all was bustle and confusion, as people ran here and there in anxiety for their luggage.

His uncle thought Owen quite capable of carrying his own belongings, and led the way down a narrow street into a broader one, with some fine buildings; then, to the boy's surprise, over a bridge, which crossed a fine dock filled with shipping, for he had no idea that Barmston was a seaport town. He was tempted to stop and look at the busy life, where the twinkling lights of the lamps were reflected in the dark waters of the dock. But his uncle was walking with rapid steps, and he ran to keep up with him. As he turned into the broad market-place, he entered a bright, cheerful grocer's shop, over which Owen had just time to catch the name "Hadleigh" in large letters.

His uncle passed at once into the counting-house, and entered into eager conversation with a man who was there, and a young girl, who, Owen concluded, was his cousin. But nobody seemed to think of the orphan, who sat on his box in a corner of the bright and busy shop, unnoticed and uncared for. After a while he grew so interested in watching the various customers that he almost forgot where he was, till a clear voice close at his side asked pleasantly, "Are you my cousin Owen?"