The $30,000 Bequest, and Other Stories Page 8

  CHAPTER VIII

  During three days the couple walked upon air, with their heads in theclouds. They were but vaguely conscious of their surroundings; they sawall things dimly, as through a veil; they were steeped in dreams,often they did not hear when they were spoken to; they often did notunderstand when they heard; they answered confusedly or at random; Sallysold molasses by weight, sugar by the yard, and furnished soap whenasked for candles, and Aleck put the cat in the wash and fed milk tothe soiled linen. Everybody was stunned and amazed, and went aboutmuttering, "What _can _be the matter with the Fosters?"

  Three days. Then came events! Things had taken a happy turn, andfor forty-eight hours Aleck's imaginary corner had been booming. Up--up--still up! Cost point was passed. Still up--and up--and up! Five pointsabove cost--then ten--fifteen--twenty! Twenty points cold profit on thevast venture, now, and Aleck's imaginary brokers were shoutingfrantically by imaginary long-distance, "Sell! sell! for Heaven's sake_sell_!"

  She broke the splendid news to Sally, and he, too, said, "Sell!sell--oh, don't make a blunder, now, you own the earth!--sell, sell!"But she set her iron will and lashed it amidships, and said she wouldhold on for five points more if she died for it.

  It was a fatal resolve. The very next day came the historic crash, therecord crash, the devastating crash, when the bottom fell out of WallStreet, and the whole body of gilt-edged stocks dropped ninety-fivepoints in five hours, and the multimillionaire was seen begging hisbread in the Bowery. Aleck sternly held her grip and "put up" as longas she could, but at last there came a call which she was powerless tomeet, and her imaginary brokers sold her out. Then, and not till then,the man in her was vanished, and the woman in her resumed sway. She puther arms about her husband's neck and wept, saying:

  "I am to blame, do not forgive me, I cannot bear it. We are paupers!Paupers, and I am so miserable. The weddings will never come off; allthat is past; we could not even buy the dentist, now."

  A bitter reproach was on Sally's tongue: "I _begged _you to sell, butyou--" He did not say it; he had not the heart to add a hurt to thatbroken and repentant spirit. A nobler thought came to him and he said:

  "Bear up, my Aleck, all is not lost! You really never invested a pennyof my uncle's bequest, but only its unmaterialized future; what wehave lost was only the incremented harvest from that future by yourincomparable financial judgment and sagacity. Cheer up, banish thesegriefs; we still have the thirty thousand untouched; and with theexperience which you have acquired, think what you will be able to dowith it in a couple years! The marriages are not off, they are onlypostponed."

  These were blessed words. Aleck saw how true they were, and theirinfluence was electric; her tears ceased to flow, and her great spiritrose to its full stature again. With flashing eye and grateful heart,and with hand uplifted in pledge and prophecy, she said:

  "Now and here I proclaim--"

  But she was interrupted by a visitor. It was the editor and proprietorof the _Sagamore_. He had happened into Lakeside to pay a duty-call uponan obscure grandmother of his who was nearing the end of her pilgrimage,and with the idea of combining business with grief he had looked upthe Fosters, who had been so absorbed in other things for the past fouryears that they neglected to pay up their subscription. Six dollars due.No visitor could have been more welcome. He would know all about UncleTilbury and what his chances might be getting to be, cemeterywards. Theycould, of course, ask no questions, for that would squelch the bequest,but they could nibble around on the edge of the subject and hope forresults. The scheme did not work. The obtuse editor did not know he wasbeing nibbled at; but at last, chance accomplished what art had failedin. In illustration of something under discussion which required thehelp of metaphor, the editor said:

  "Land, it's as tough as Tilbury Foster!--as _we_ say."

  It was sudden, and it made the Fosters jump. The editor noticed, andsaid, apologetically:

  "No harm intended, I assure you. It's just a saying; just a joke, youknow--nothing in it. Relation of yours?"

  Sally crowded his burning eagerness down, and answered with all theindifference he could assume:

  "I--well, not that I know of, but we've heard of him." The editor wasthankful, and resumed his composure. Sally added: "Is he--is he--well?"

  "Is he _well_? Why, bless you he's in Sheol these five years!"

  The Fosters were trembling with grief, though it felt like joy. Sallysaid, non-committally--and tentatively:

  "Ah, well, such is life, and none can escape--not even the rich arespared."

  The editor laughed.

  "If you are including Tilbury," said he, "it don't apply. _He_ hadn't acent; the town had to bury him."

  The Fosters sat petrified for two minutes; petrified and cold. Then,white-faced and weak-voiced, Sally asked:

  "Is it true? Do you _know _it to be true?"

  "Well, I should say! I was one of the executors. He hadn't anything toleave but a wheelbarrow, and he left that to me. It hadn't any wheel,and wasn't any good. Still, it was something, and so, to square up, Iscribbled off a sort of a little obituarial send-off for him, but it gotcrowded out."

  The Fosters were not listening--their cup was full, it could containno more. They sat with bowed heads, dead to all things but the ache attheir hearts.

  An hour later. Still they sat there, bowed, motionless, silent, thevisitor long ago gone, they unaware.

  Then they stirred, and lifted their heads wearily, and gazed at eachother wistfully, dreamily, dazed; then presently began to twaddle toeach other in a wandering and childish way. At intervals they lapsedinto silences, leaving a sentence unfinished, seemingly either unawareof it or losing their way. Sometimes, when they woke out of thesesilences they had a dim and transient consciousness that something hadhappened to their minds; then with a dumb and yearning solicitude theywould softly caress each other's hands in mutual compassion and support,as if they would say: "I am near you, I will not forsake you, wewill bear it together; somewhere there is release and forgetfulness,somewhere there is a grave and peace; be patient, it will not be long."

  They lived yet two years, in mental night, always brooding, steeped invague regrets and melancholy dreams, never speaking; then release cameto both on the same day.

  Toward the end the darkness lifted from Sally's ruined mind for amoment, and he said:

  "Vast wealth, acquired by sudden and unwholesome means, is a snare. Itdid us no good, transient were its feverish pleasures; yet for itssake we threw away our sweet and simple and happy life--let others takewarning by us."

  He lay silent awhile, with closed eyes; then as the chill of death creptupward toward his heart, and consciousness was fading from his brain, hemuttered:

  "Money had brought him misery, and he took his revenge upon us, who haddone him no harm. He had his desire: with base and cunning calculationhe left us but thirty thousand, knowing we would try to increase it, andruin our life and break our hearts. Without added expense he couldhave left us far above desire of increase, far above the temptationto speculate, and a kinder soul would have done it; but in him was nogenerous spirit, no pity, no--"

  A DOG'S TALE