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Page 3
"Only the mice, father, as usual; do, father, try to sleep. I watch
carefully; there is nothing to fear."
"Ay, ay, men and mice all the same; nothing but waste. When I am gone,
Sarah, keep what you will have; it won't be much, Sarah, my poor girl,
it won't be much; just enough to need care; but KEEP IT; don't lend
it, or give it, or spend it; you are fond of spending, my poor girl;
see that huge fire, enough for three nights; early bad habits. When
we lived in a small house and were poor, it was then you learned to be
extravagant; I had no money then, so did not know its value."
"But we were happier then, father," said Sarah Bond; "we were so
cheerful and happy then, and so many poor people blessed my dear
mother, and Mary"--
"Hiss--ss," uttered the dying miser; "don't dare mention your sister,
who disgraced me by marrying a pauper; a pauper who threatened my
life, because I would not give him my money to save him from starving;
but he _did not_ get the old father-in-law's gold; no; he _starved,
and_"--
The words thus uttered by her father, who she knew had not many hours
to live--uttered, too, with such demoniac bitterness--forced the
gentle, patient woman to start from her seal, and pass rapidly across
the room to the side of his bed, where she sank upon her knees, and
seized his shrunken hands in hers. "Father!" she exclaimed, "I have
been your child for forty years, and you have said, that during that
period, by no act of my own, have I _ever_ angered you. Is it not so?"
The old man withdrew one hand gently, turned himself round, and looked
in her face: "Forty years! Is it forty years?" he repeated; "but it
must be; the fair brow is wrinkled, and the abundant hair grown thin
and gray. You were a pretty baby, Sarah, and a merry child; a cheerful
girl, too, until that foolish fancy. Well, dear, I'll say no more
about it; good, dutiful girl. You gave it up to please your father
full twenty years ago, and when he dies, you shall have _all_ his
gold--there's a good father! You must _keep_ it, Sarah, and not give
it, nor lend it. I know you won't marry, as _he_ is dead; nor see your
sister--mind that; if you see _her_, or serve her, the bitterest curse
that ever rose from a father's grave will compass you in on every
side."
"My father!" she said, "oh! in mercy to yourself, revoke these words.
She knew nothing of her husband's conduct; he used her even worse than
he used you. Oh! for my sake say you will forgive Mary. It is all I
ask. Do what you please with your wealth, but forgive my sister."
"You were always a fool, Sarah," he replied faintly and peevishly. "If
I could do as I please, I would take my property with me, for you will
surely spend it. But there is another condition, another promise you
must give me. Now, don't interrupt me again. We will talk of _her_
by-and-bye, perhaps. As long as you live, Sarah, _as you value my
blessing_, you must not part with anything in this room. You will live
on in the old house, or perhaps sell it, and have a smaller; yet don't
spend money in new furnishing--don't; but never part with anything in
_this room_; never so much as a stick."
This promise was willingly given; for, independently of her love for
her father, Sarah Bond had become attached to the inanimate objects
which had so long been before her. Again she endeavoured to lead
her father away from that avarice which had corrupted his soul, and
driven happiness and peace from their dwelling. She urged the duty of
forgiveness, and pleaded hard for her sister; but, though the hours
wore away, she made no impression upon him. Utterly unmindful of
her words, he did not either interrupt her or fall into his former
violence. On the contrary, he seemed involved in some intricate
calculation--counting on his fingers, or casting up lines of imaginary
figures upon the coverlit.
Sarah, heart-broken, and silently weeping, retreated to the table, and
again, after turning the fire, betook her to her solace--the precious
volume that never fails to afford consolation to the afflicted. She
read a few passages, and then, though she looked upon the book, her
mind wandered. She recalled the happy days of her childhood, before
her father, by the extraordinary and most unexpected bequest of a
distant relative, became possessed of property to what extent she
could form no idea. She knew that this relative had quarrelled with
the heir-at-law, and left all to one he had never seen. This bequest
had closed up her father's heart; instead of being a blessing, so
perfectly avaricious had he grown, that it was a curse. Previously, he
had been an industrious farmer; and though a thrifty one, had evinced
none of the bitterness of avarice, none of its hardness or tyranny.
He could then sleep at nights, permit his wife and children to share
their frugal stores with those who needed, troll "Ere around the huge
oak," while his wife accompanied him on the spinnet, and encourage
his daughters to wed men in what was their then sphere of life, rather
than those who might not consider the gentle blood they inherited, and
their superior education, a sufficient set-off to their limited means
and humble station. Suddenly, riches poured in upon him: his eldest
daughter, true to the faith she plighted, would marry her humble
lover, and her father's subsequent harshness to her favourite
child broke the mother's heart. Sarah not only had less firmness of
character than her sister, but loved her father more devotedly, and
gave up the affection of her young heart to please him. His narrow
nature could not understand the sacrifice: and when her cheek faded,
and her really beautiful face contracted into the painful expression
of that pining melancholy which has neither words nor tears--to lull
his sympathy, he muttered to himself, "good girl, _she_ shall have
_all_ I have."
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