VII.
PAUL BEGINS HIS JOURNEY.
Paul ascended the stairs to his hard pallet for the last time. For thelast time! There is sadness in the thought, even when the future whichlies before us glows with brighter colors than the past has ever worn.But to Paul, whose future was veiled in uncertainty, and who was aboutto part with the only friend who felt an interest in his welfare, thisthought brought increased sorrow.
He stood before the dirt-begrimed window through which alone thestruggling sunbeams found an inlet into the gloomy little attic,and looked wistfully out upon the barren fields that surrounded thepoorhouse. Where would he be on the morrow at that time? He did notknow. He knew little or nothing of the great world without, yet hisresolution did not for an instant falter. If it had, the thought of Mrs.Mudge would have been enough to remove all his hesitation.
He threw himself on his hard bed, and a few minutes brought him thatdreamless sleep which comes so easily to the young.
Meanwhile Aunt Lucy, whose thoughts were also occupied with Paul'sapproaching departure, had taken from the pocket of her OTHER dress--forshe had but two--something wrapped in a piece of brown paper. One by oneshe removed the many folds in which it was enveloped, and came at lengthto the contents.
It was a coin.
"Paul will need some money, poor boy," said she, softly to herself, "Iwill give him this. It will never do me any good, and it may be of someservice to him."
So saying she looked carefully at the coin in the moonlight.
But what made her start, and utter a half exclamation?
Instead of the gold eagle, the accumulation of many years, which she hadbeen saving for some extraordinary occasion like the presents she heldin her hand--a copper cent.
"I have been robbed," she exclaimed indignantly in the suddenness of hersurprise.
"What's the matter now?" inquired Mrs Mudge, appearing at the door, "Whyare you not in bed, Aunt Lucy Lee? How dare you disobey my orders?"
"I have been robbed," exclaimed the old lady in unwonted excitement.
"Of what, pray?" asked Mrs. Mudge, with a sneer.
"I had a gold eagle wrapped up in that paper," returned Aunt Lucy,pointing to the fragments on the floor, "and now, to-night, when I cometo open it, I find but this cent."
"A likely story," retorted Mrs. Mudge, "very likely, indeed, that acommon pauper should have a gold eagle. If you found a cent in thepaper, most likely that's what you put there. You're growing old andforgetful, so don't get foolish and flighty. You'd better go to bed."
"But I did have the gold, and it's been stolen," persisted Aunt Lucy,whose disappointment was the greater because she intended the money forPaul.
"Again!" exclaimed Mrs. Mudge. "Will you never have done with thisfolly? Even if you did have the gold, which I don't for an instantbelieve, you couldn't keep it. A pauper has no right to hold property."
"Then why did the one who stole the little I had leave me this?" saidthe old lady, scornfully, holding up the cent which had been substitutedfor the gold.
"How should I know?" exclaimed Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully. "You talk as ifyou thought I had taken your trumpery money."
"So you did!" chimed in an unexpected voice, which made Mrs. Mudge startnervously.
It was the young woman already mentioned, who was bereft of reason,but who at times, as often happens in such cases, seemed gifted withpreternatural acuteness.
"So you did. I saw you, I did; I saw you creep up when you thoughtnobody was looking, and search her pocket. You opened that paper andtook out the bright yellow piece, and put in another. You didn't think Iwas looking at you, ha! ha! How I laughed as I stood behind the door andsaw you tremble for fear some one would catch you thieving. You didn'tthink of me, dear, did you?"
And the wild creature burst into an unmeaning laugh.
Mrs. Mudge stood for a moment mute, overwhelmed by this suddenrevelation. But for the darkness, Aunt Lucy could have seen the suddenflush which overspread her face with the crimson hue of detected guilt.But this was only for a moment. It was quickly succeeded by a feelingof intense anger towards the unhappy creature who had been the means ofexposing her.
"I'll teach you to slander your betters, you crazy fool," she exclaimed,in a voice almost inarticulate with passion, as she seized her rudely bythe arm, and dragged her violently from the room.
She returned immediately.
"I suppose," said she, abruptly, confronting Aunt Lucy, "that you arefool enough to believe her ravings?"
"I bring no accusation," said the old lady, calmly, "If your conscienceacquits you, it is not for me to accuse you."
"But what do you think?" persisted Mrs. Mudge, whose consciousness ofguilt did not leave her quite at ease.
"I cannot read the heart," said Aunt Lucy, composedly. "I can only say,that, pauper as I am, I would not exchange places with the one who hasdone this deed."
"Do you mean me?" demanded Mrs. Mudge.
"You can tell best."
"I tell you what, Aunt Lucy Lee," said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes blazingwith anger, "If you dare insinuate to any living soul that I stole yourpaltry money, which I don't believe you ever had, I will be bitterlyrevenged upon you."
She flaunted out of the room, and Aunt Lucy, the first bitterness of herdisappointment over, retired to bed, and slept more tranquilly than theunscrupulous woman who had robbed her.
At a quarter before four Paul started from his humble couch, and hastilydressed himself, took up a little bundle containing all his scanty stockof clothing, and noiselessly descended the two flights of stairs whichseparated him from the lower story. Here he paused a moment for AuntLucy to appear. Her sharp ears had distinguished his stealthy steps ashe passed her door, and she came down to bid him good-by. She had in herhands a pair of stockings which she slipped into his bundle.
"I wish I had something else to give you, Paul," she said, "but you knowthat I am not very rich."
"Dear Aunt Lucy," said Paul, kissing her, "you are my only friend onearth. You have been very kind to me, and I never will forget you,NEVER! By-and-by, when I am rich, I will build a fine house, and youwill come and live with me, won't you?"
Paul's bright anticipations, improbable as they were, had the effect ofturning his companion's thoughts into a more cheerful channel.
She bent down and kissed him, whispering softly, "Yes, I will, Paul."
"Then it's a bargain," said he, joyously, "Mind you don't forget it. Ishall come for you one of these days when you least expect it."
"Have you any money?" inquired Aunt Lucy.
Paul shook his head.
"Then," said she, drawing from her finger a gold ring which had heldits place for many long years, "here is something which will bring you alittle money if you are ever in distress."
Paul hung back.
"I would rather not take it, indeed I would," he said, earnestly,"I would rather go hungry for two or three days than sell your ring.Besides, I shall not need it; God will provide for me."
"But you need not sell it," urged Aunt Lucy, "unless it is absolutelynecessary. You can take it and keep it in remembrance of me. Keep ittill you see me again, Paul. It will be a pledge to me that you willcome back again some day."
"On that condition I will take it," said Paul, "and some day I willbring it back."
A slight noise above, as of some one stirring in sleep, excited theapprehensions of the two, and warned them that it was imprudent for themto remain longer in conversation.
After a hurried good-by, Aunt Lucy quietly went upstairs again, andPaul, shouldering his bundle, walked rapidly away.
The birds, awakening from their night's repose, were beginning to carolforth their rich songs of thanksgiving for the blessing of a new day.From the flowers beneath his feet and the blossom-laden branches abovehis head, a delicious perfume floated out upon the morning air, andfilled the heart of the young wanderer with a sense of the joyousness ofexistence, and inspired him with a hopeful confidence in the future.
> For the first time he felt that he belonged to himself. At the age ofthirteen he had taken his fortune in his own hand, and was about to moldit as best he might.
There were care, and toil, and privations before him, no doubt, butin that bright morning hour he could harbor only cheerful and trustingthoughts. Hopefully he looked forward to the time when he could fulfilhis father's dying injunction, and lift from his name the burden of adebt unpaid. Then his mind reverting to another thought, he could nothelp smiling at the surprise and anger of Mr. Mudge, when he should findthat his assistant had taken French leave. He thought he should like tobe concealed somewhere where he could witness the commotion excitedby his own departure. But as he could not be in two places at the sametime, he must lose that satisfaction. He had cut loose from the Mudgehousehold, as he trusted, forever. He felt that a new and brighter lifewas opening before him.