Now fifty cents a yard was the price of the goods, and so Mr.
Levering had informed the lady. She misunderstood him, however.
In the community, Mr. Levering had the reputation of being a conscientious, high-minded man. He knew that he was thus estimated, and self-complacently appropriated the good opinion as clearly his due.
It came instantly to the lip of Mr. Levering to say, "Yes, fifty-five." The love of gain was strong in his mind, and ever ready to accede to new plans for adding dollar to dollar. But, ere the words were uttered, a disturbing perception of something wrong restrained him.
"I wish twenty yards," said the customer taking it for granted that fifty-five cents was the price of the goods.
Mr. Levering was still silent; though he commenced promptly to measure off the goods.
"Not dear at that price," remarked the lady.
"I think not," said the storekeeper. "I bought the case of goods from which this piece was taken very low."
"Twenty yards at fifty-five cents! Just eleven dollars." The customer opened her purse as she thus spoke, and counted out the sum in glittering gold dollars. "That is right, I believe," and she pushed the money towards Mr. Levering, who, with a kind of automatic movement of his hand, drew forward the coin and swept it into his till.
"Send the bundle to No. 300 Argyle Street," said the lady, with a bland smile, as she turned from the counter, and the half-bewildered store-keeper.
"Stay, madam! there is a slight mistake!" The words were in Mr.
Levering"s thoughts, and on the point of gaining utterance, but he had not the courage to speak. He had gained a dollar in the transaction beyond his due, and already it was lying heavily on his conscience. Willingly would he have thrown it off; but when about to do so, the quick suggestion came, that, in acknowledging to the lady the fact of her having paid five cents a yard too much, he might falter in his explanation, and thus betray his attempt to do her wrong. And so he kept silence, and let her depart beyond recall.
Any thing gained at the price of virtuous self-respect is acquired at too large a cost. A single dollar on the conscience may press so heavily as to bear down a man"s spirits, and rob him of all the delights of life. It was so in the present case. Vain was it that Mr. Levering sought self-justification. Argue the matter as he would, he found it impossible to escape the smarting conviction that he had unjustly exacted a dollar from one of his customers. Many times through the day he found himself in a musing, abstracted state, and on rousing himself therefrom, became conscious, in his external thought, that it was the dollar by which he was troubled.
"I"m very foolish," said he, mentally, as he walked homeward, after closing his store for the evening. "Very foolish to worry myself about a trifle like this. The goods were cheap enough at fifty-five, and she is quite as well contented with her bargain as if she had paid only fifty."
But it would not do. The dollar was on his conscience, and he sought in vain to remove it by efforts of this kind.
Mr. Levering had a wife and three pleasant children. They were the sunlight of his home. When the business of the day was over, he usually returned to his own fireside with buoyant feeling. It was not so on this occasion. There was a pressure on his bosom--a sense of discomfort--a want of self-satisfaction. The kiss of his wife, and the clinging arms of his children, as they were twined around his neck, did not bring the old delight.
"What is the matter with you this evening, dear? Are you not well?"
inquired Mrs. Levering, breaking in upon the thoughtful mood of her husband, as he sat in unwonted silence.
"I"m perfectly well," he replied, rousing himself, and forcing a smile.
"You look sober."
"Do I?" Another forced smile.
"Something troubles you, I"m afraid."
"O no; it"s all in your imagination."
"Are you sick, papa?" now asks a bright little fellow, clambering upon his knee.
"Why no, love, I"m not sick. Why do you think so?"
"Because you don"t play horses with me."
"Oh dear! Is that the ground of your suspicion?" replied the father, laughing. "Come! we"ll soon scatter them to the winds."
And Mr. Levering commenced a game of romps with the children. But he tired long before they grew weary, nor did he, from the beginning, enter into this sport with his usual zest.
"Does your head ache, pa?" inquired the child who had previously suggested sickness, as he saw his father leave the floor, and seat himself, with some gravity of manner, on a chair.
"Not this evening, dear," answered Mr. Levering.
"Why don"t you play longer, then?"
"Oh pa!" exclaimed another child, speaking from a sudden thought, "you don"t know what a time we had at school to-day."
"Ah! what was the cause?"
"Oh! you"ll hardly believe it. But Eddy Jones stole a dollar from Maggy Enfield!"
"Stole a dollar!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Levering. His voice was husky, and he felt a cold thrill pa.s.sing along every nerve.
"Yes, pa! he stole a dollar! Oh, wasn"t it dreadful?"
"Perhaps he was wrongly accused," suggested Mrs. Levering.
"Emma Wilson saw him do it, and they found the dollar in his pocket.
Oh! he looked so pale, and it made me almost sick to hear him cry as if his heart would break."
"What did they do with him?" asked Mrs. Levering.
"They sent for his mother, and she took him home. Wasn"t it dreadful?"
"It must have been dreadful for his poor mother," Mr. Levering ventured to remark.
"But more dreadful for him," said Mrs. Levering. "Will he ever forget his crime and disgrace? Will the pressure of that dollar on his conscience ever be removed? He may never do so wicked an act again; but the memory of this wrong deed cannot be wholly effaced from his mind."
How rebukingly fell all these words on the ears of Mr. Levering. Ah!
what would he not then have given to have the weight of that dollar removed? Its pressure was so great as almost to suffocate him. It was all in vain that he tried to be cheerful, or to take an interest in what was pa.s.sing immediately around him. The innocent prattle of his children had lost its wonted charm, and there seemed an accusing expression in the eye of his wife, as, in the concern his changed aspect had occasioned, she looked soberly upon him. Unable to bear all this, Mr. Levering went out, something unusual for him, and walked the streets for an hour. On his return, the children were in bed, and he had regained sufficient self-control to meet his wife with a less disturbed appearance.
On the next morning, Mr. Levering felt something better. Sleep had left his mind more tranquil. Still there was a pressure on his feelings, which thought could trace to that unlucky dollar. About an hour after going to his store, Mr. Levering saw his customer of the day previous enter, and move along towards the place where he stood behind his counter. His heart gave a sudden bound, and the color rose to his face. An accusing conscience was quick to conclude as to the object of her visit. But he soon saw that no suspicion of wrong dealing was in the lady"s mind. With a pleasant half recognition, she asked to look at certain articles, from which she made purchases, and in paying for them, placed a ten dollar bill in the hand of the storekeeper.
"That weight shall be off my conscience," said Mr. Levering to himself, as he began counting out the change due his customer; and, purposely, he gave her one dollar more than was justly hers in that transaction. The lady glanced her eyes over the money, and seemed slightly bewildered. Then, much to the storekeeper"s relief, opened her purse and dropped it therein.
"All right again!" was the mental e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of Mr. Levering, as he saw the purse disappear in the lady"s pocket, while his breast expanded with a sense of relief.
The customer turned from the counter, and had nearly gained the door, when she paused, drew out her purse, and emptying the contents of one end into her hand, carefully noted the amount. Then walking back, she said, with a thoughtful air--
"I think you "ve made a mistake in the change, Mr. Levering."
"I presume not, ma"am. I gave you four and thirty-five," was the quick reply.
"Four, thirty-five," said the lady, musingly.