"Well, now, to begin at the root of the matter, Thrasher. This thing wants money."
"I have some in the house and more out at interest. Tell me how to use it best."
"You"re a prime old chap. A church full of such members would be enough to save the whole country, bad as it is. How much money in all, brother?"
I am afraid the word brother broke into a slight sarcasm on the doctor"s lips, for he rather disliked these empty t.i.tles of endearment, and was apt to laugh at them a little in ordinary times. This one word had sprung from his heart in spontaneous warmth, but it was so strange to the lips that they threw it off irreverently.
Mr. Thrasher named a sum of money larger than any one could have believed at his command.
"It isn"t mine," he said, noticing the look of surprise. "My son brought home all his profits and savings the last voyage, and told me to put them out at interest, and always consider them as mine if I wanted means. I shall use this money now--every cent, if needful for her safety or support."
"You think the girl innocent, then?" said the doctor.
"Innocent as I am," answered the good old man.
"As a baby," chimed in the mild voice of Mrs. Thrasher.
"As the children of heaven," said Mrs. Allen, standing up, and speaking with all the authority of conviction.
"And this is why you would not let the poor thing run away?" inquired the doctor, sharply.
The two women looked at each other guiltily. They had been willing enough that she should run away. It was the sublime faith of the old man, appealing to a consciousness of innocence in the girl herself, that had wrought the n.o.ble act of self-abnegation, carried out in Katharine"s return.
As for the kind-hearted women, to them Katharine"s safety was the first thought; it was with heavy hearts that they had seen her return like a bird to the snare.
"Innocent or guilty she was in the hands of her G.o.d," answered the old man. "It was not for weak man like me to wrest her therefrom."
"Perhaps not; but I shall do my best to put all that stuff out of the lawyers" heads," answered the doctor, dryly.
The two women sighed heavily. Mrs. Thrasher looked a little shocked, and was troubled with vague misgivings that no lawyer of less strict principle would be tolerated by her husband.
"We must try and get a conscientious lawyer, if possible," said the old man, coloring under the doctor"s words.
The doctor took up his crutches, and crossed them angrily before him.
"Look here, my old friend, we must divide this work, I see. You shall take the church and I"ll take the law. You pray night and morning, I"ll work morning and night; and if we don"t save that poor child in the end, why it wont be for want of a suitable division of labor."
Mr. Thrasher yielded to this, for he had the great good sense which gives to every man a clear insight into his own capacities.
"I never had any thing to do with the law in my life," he said, meekly; "and for the whole world I wouldn"t injure her by meddling with what I don"t understand. If you"ll undertake it, doctor, I"ll----"
"Be content to play second fiddle--that"s exactly what I am up to. Leave these law matters to me, and if you can do any thing to comfort her--if your religion can teach the poor thing to be cheerful or patient, my part wont be the most important after all. Well, now, Mrs. Allen, what are you good for? Why didn"t you go with the girl?"
"I wished it; but they wouldn"t let me. The jail was only for those who commit crimes, the constable said, and I had no right there."
"But you shall have a right, if I have to sin for you," said the doctor, dashing his crutch on the floor. "This is what you must arrange. Shut up the house here; take some of Thrasher"s money, and go down to New Haven, take board close by the jail, and I"ll answer for it you shall spend half your time with Katharine. If Thrasher and his wife could go with you, all the better--plenty of time to convert her in the prison. If the worst comes to the worst, she"ll need you, and you can do more good than fifty ministers."
"Is it really your advice that I go?" said Mrs. Allen, with painful eagerness.
"It"s my opinion that you should all go; nothing to do in the country at this time of year. You can comfort one another, and do her a world of good."
"I"m sure he"s right," said Mrs. Thrasher, casting an appealing glance at her husband. "We might be a great comfort to her. How can we spend Nelson"s money better?"
The old man arose and went out with the doctor, and the two consulted together some minutes by the gate, then Mr. Thrasher returned.
"There is a thing we have not considered," he said; "these two strangers. What can be done with them?"
Mrs. Allen went to a cupboard and took from one of the shelves a New York Journal, dated months back, in which Mrs. Prior"s advertis.e.m.e.nt for scholars and boarders was conspicuous.
"These people live in my native town," she said; "it"s a long time since I left it; but Paul would be much better off with this good minister than here with a broken-hearted old woman. My son has forwarded money for his support. While this trouble hangs over us, I will send the child to a happier home; as for Jube, he can stay on the place."
Jube heard this, and clasped his great hands with the sudden shock of her words. What! part from his little master--let the boy go off alone among strangers! It was more than he could bear. But obedience had been the first lesson of his life, and though every nerve of his heart protested, he uttered no complaint. Still, as he went heavily about his work that day, tears were constantly dropping from his eyes, and once he approached the window with such creeping humility that she half relented, and was tempted to let him go with his young charge.
But with a true Connecticut woman, industry is one of the leading virtues. The idea of a stalwart man pa.s.sing his life in petting a little boy, was out of the question. True, it was very painful for her to separate these two singularly matched friends, but it was not in her nature to encourage idleness, so Paul"s destiny for a time was decided.
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE SEPARATION.
It was a sad night for Paul--the saddest, perhaps, of his whole life--for hitherto one friend had been with him; now he was to go forth alone. This was weary trouble; but the boy met it bravely. Being told with firmness that it was wrong to desire Jube to be always with him, he hushed down the anguish of that parting, and went away with bitter tears choked back in his heart.
This story was in the days of carriers and stage-coaches. Paul was placed in charge of a driver, and early the next morning was to be sent on his journey. He and Jube spent half an hour in the garret before he left, and a touching scene pa.s.sed between those faithful hearts in that lonely place. Jube sat down on the floor and held the lad in his arms.
"You wont forget me, never, little ma.s.ser?"
"Forget you, Jube, I couldn"t do it; never, never; when "sleep, it will be Jube who stands by in the dreams that our lady will send. If I pray, I will ask her to bless Jube."
"Oh, little ma.s.ser, how Jube"s heart aches!"
"And mine, Jube. What shall I do, all alone?"
"Yes, little ma.s.ser, who will wake you up in the morning and warm your hands in his?"
"No one," sobbed Paul--"no one ever will be good to me like you, Jube."
"And you"ll want Jube?"
"Want you--oh, very much."
Jube gathered the little fellow to his bosom and cried over him in forlorn silence.
"Little ma.s.ser?"
"Well, Jube?" was the mournful answer.