CHAPTER VI.
THE WILL.
At a splendid escritoir Mr. Granite sat, in his own room, surrounded bythe luxurious appliances which wait upon wealth, however acquired. Theface of the sitter is deadly pale, for he is alone, and amongst hismost private papers. He has missed one, upon which the permanence ofhis worldly happiness hung. Diligently has he been searching for thatsmall scrap of paper, which contained the sentence of death to hisrepute. Oh! the agony of that suspense! It could not have beenabstracted, for it was in a secret part of his writing-desk; althoughby the simplest accident in the world it had now got mislaid; yet washe destined not to recover it. In hastily taking out some papers, ithad dropped through the opening of the desk, which was a large one,upon the carpet, where it remained, unperceived. In the midst of hisanxious and agonized search, there was a knock at the door, and evenpaler and more heart-broken than the merchant himself, Sterlingtottered into the room.
"Well, my good Sterling," said the merchant, with a great effortstifling his own apprehension, "I am to be troubled no more by thatfellow's pitiful whinings. I was a fool to be over-persuaded; butbenevolence is my failing--a commendable one, I own--but still afailing."
"I am glad to hear you say that, sir, for you now have a greatopportunity to exercise it."
"Ask me for nothing more, for I have done"--interrupted Granite;fancying for an instant that he might have placed the missing documentin a secret place, where he was sometimes in the habit of depositingmatters of the first importance, he quitted the room hurriedly.
"Lost! lost, for ever! I have killed the son of my old benefactor!"cried Sterling. "He can't recover from the shock--nor I--nor I! myheart is breaking--to fall from such a height of joy into such a gulfof despair--I, who could have sold my very life to bring himhappiness." At that moment his eye caught a paper which lay on thecarpet, and with the instinct of a clerk's neatness solely, he pickedit up and put it on the table before him. "The crime ofself-destruction is great," he continued, "but I am sorely tempted.With chilling selfishness on one side, and dreadful misery on theother, life is but a weary burden." Carelessly glancing at the paperwhich he had taken from the floor, he read the name of Travers; helooked closely at it, and discovered that it was an abstract of a will.Curiosity prompted him to examine it, and his heart gave one tremendousthrob, when he discovered it to bear date after the one by which Henry,in a fit of anger, was disinherited by his father.
The old man fell upon his knees, and if ever a fervent, heartfeltprayer issued from the lips of mortal, he then prayed that he might butlive to see that great wrong righted.
He had but just time to conceal the paper within his breast, whenGranite returned.
"You here yet?" he cried. "Have I not done enough to-day? What otherbeggarly brat do you come suing for?"
"For none, dear sir," said Sterling. "I would simply test thatbenevolence, of which you spoke but now--the money which you sent toTravers"----
"Well, what of it?"
"I have lost!"
"Pooh! old man," continued the other, contemptuously, "don't think todeceive me by such a stale device; that's a very old trick."
"You don't believe me?"
"No."
"After so many years!" cried the old man, with tear-choked utterance.
"The temptation was too much for you," bitterly replied the merchant.The old leaven exhibited itself once more. "You remember"----
"Silence, sir!" cried the old man, drawing up his aged form into suddenerectness, while the fire of indignation illumined his lustreless eye."The majesty of my integrity emboldens me to say that, even toyou--your cruel taunt has wiped out all of feeling that I had foryou--fellow-sinner, hast thou not committed an error also?"
"Insolent! how dare you insinuate?"
"I don't insinuate; I speak out; nay, not an error, but a _crime_. I_know_ you have, and can prove it."
"Away, fool! you are in your dotage."
"A dotage that shall wither you in your strength, and strip you of yourill-bought possessions," exclaimed the old man, with nearly the vigorof youth; "since Humanity will not prompt you to yield up a portion ofyour _stolen_ wealth, Justice shall force you to deliver it all--aye,all!"
"Villain! what riddle is this?" cried Granite, with a vaguepresentiment that the missing paper was in some way connected with thiscontretemps.
"A riddle easily solved," answered Sterling. "Behold its solution, ifyour eyes dare look at it! A will, devising all the property you holdto Henry Travers! There are dozens who can swear to my old employer'ssignature. Stern, proper justice should prompt me to vindicate hisson's cause; yet, I know that he would not purchase wealth at the costof your degradation. Divide equally with him, and let the past beforgotten."
There was but one way that Granite could regain his vantage-ground, andhe was not the man to shrink from it.
With a sudden bound, he threw himself upon the weak old clerk, andsnatching the paper from him, exclaimed--
"You shallow-pated fool! think you that you have a child to deal with?The only evidence that could fling a shadow across my good name wouldbe your fragment of miserable breath, which I could take, and would, aseasily as brush away a noxious wasp, but that I despise you tooentirely to feel your sting. Go, both of you, and babble forth yourinjuries to the world! go, and experience how poor a conflictstarveling honesty in rags can wage against iniquity when clad ingolden armor! I defy ye all! Behold how easily I can destroy all dangerto myself, and hope to him at once." So saying, he held the paper tothe lamp, and, notwithstanding the ineffectual efforts of Sterling toprevent it, continued so to hold it until a few transitory sparks wereall that remained of Henry Travers's inheritance.
Sterling said not a syllable, but, with a glance at the other, whichhad in it somewhat of inspiration, pointed upward, and slowly staggeredfrom the room.