Chapter VIII: Confidence

THE fatigue which he experienced in consequence of his long walk, and his sensible relief in the feeling that his wife knew the worst, caused the Rector to fall into a heavy sleep, soon after his head touched the pillow. But through the remainder of the night, not once did the sorrowing wife lose the recollection of the affliction which had overtaken them. She lay a long time wondering, hoping, fearing by turns: plan after plan for solving the mystery was made and rejected. At length, becoming too much excited by conflicting emotions to remain quiet, she arose and going into an adjoining room, fell upon her knees to implore that guidance which her own unaided wisdom demanded in this emergency.

Even the knowledge that One ever watchful over his children was near, and could, by His powerful hand sweep away all the obstacles that lay in her husband's path, soothed and cheered her. Never had the Father-love of God seemed so precious as now. Never had faith in His promises seemed so much like an electric chain which connected her and the mercy-seat. In that one hour of communion with the Father of her spirit, she experienced a sweet confidence in His willingness to hear her cry, a peaceful rest on Him which she never forgot. She reviewed her own married life, and fervently thanked God for the long years of evidence that her husband had been born of the Spirit,—that he had a singleness of heart and of purpose in his high calling which precluded almost the possibility that he had committed the crime of which he was accused.

"But did he abstract funds from the Association when under aberration of mind?"

This was a question more difficult to answer. The scene at midnight, when she awoke and found him pacing the floor, praying God not to take away his reason, occurred to her mind with great vividness. He had told her of the letter which he had written to a brother clergyman while his head was in such a confused state that he was unfit for the transaction of business, and had begged her to be watchful at such times that nothing of importance went from his hand. Might it not be possible that, in a moment of dizziness and confusion of mind, he had retained a part or all of the funds collected from some parish to whom he had been preaching. If so, what had he done with this extra supply of cash? Certainly even this seemed scarcely possible without her becoming aware of a superfluous fund. She delighted to remember that her husband had always been methodical and exact in his transaction of business. Early in their married life, he had taught her the best method of keeping the family accounts, and had always insisted that every article purchased for home consumption should be regularly entered under the head of expenditures.

On the reception of his salary for the quarter, as long as he had been a pastor, he counted out to her one third of the amount, as every article was to be paid for when purchased, and kept the remainder in his desk for the next two months. Imperative indeed must be the necessity, such as sickness, which drew a consent from him to intrude upon a month's payment in advance.

During his long illness, the present of a purse of money from their then affectionate people had prevented the necessity of drawing from the bank any part of the money placed there on the death of his father, principal and interest having been devoted to his wife and children in case of his decease,—an arrangement which precluded the necessity of laying by any part of his running income for future necessities—an arrangement which he had often remarked gave him far more relief than he could possibly have derived from its use in the purchase of any luxury.

Since he had drawn a salary from the Missionary Society, all his expenses had been arranged in the same methodical manner. Supposing he had taken several hundred or thousand dollars in addition to his usual allowance, what had he done with it? While still under temporary insanity, he must have disposed of it in some secret manner.

With all these circumstances in mind, Mrs. Washburn could not argue herself into the possibility of his having committed such a mistake. Then her thoughts recurred to the Bishop's letter, which under the circumstances, was as kind as could be expected. She suddenly recollected that she had taken two letters from her husband's pocket, and she had read but one. The contents of that had so absorbed all her thoughts that she had forgotten the other.

Down stairs to the study she glided, both to satisfy her curiosity and to secure it against being seen by any intruder. Striking a light, she soon discovered a rumpled paper lying on the floor near the sofa. It was directed to her husband's office in town, and was signed William Temple, a prominent member of the Society. It was simply this:—

"DEAR WASHBURN:—I called here to see you, but your clerk tells me you have gone to fulfill an engagement to preach. I don't know as I ought to be surprised at this, and yet I am. I have had some conversation with the Bishop regarding the unpleasant rumors concerning you, and he tells me he has an appointment with you on Monday. You are well aware how much confidence I, as well as all our Board, have had in your integrity, but we are, the best of us, but mortals, and, in an emergency, many a man may have borrowed from funds in his possession, fully intending to repay to the uttermost farthing. Should this unhappily be your position, I advise you as a friend, to confess all to our good Bishop as speedily as possible.

"Hoping you will receive this in the same spirit in which it is
written, and that you will be directed in all your future course, I am—

"Yours, &c.,

"WILLIAM TEMPLE."

"No wonder poor Henry wished to destroy such a letter," cried Mrs. Washburn, her face flushing as she crushed it in her hands. "Such advice, in advance of proof, is an insult to a Christian minister. I am very sure Henry would have begged from door to door, before he would in his right mind, have been guilty of such sophistry. Borrowing from funds devoted to God's service, or from any funds not his own, I'm sure he would call stealing."

This letter roused her indignation to such a degree that she was obliged to take her Bible and read several chapters before she became composed enough to return to her chamber.

The sun was just rising when the Rector awoke and saw his wife dressed and sitting by his side. Lying open in her lap was the book of Common Prayer, but she was not reading. Her eyes were fastened on the dear face before her, and many sighs had escaped her lips, as the returning light of day brought to view the deep lines care and grief had graven on the broad, open brow.

"I have slept well and am refreshed," he said, returning her smile.

For in one respect, her duty had been made clear to her during her long self-communing.

"Show him that I trust him, and that I am confident our Father above will sooner or later, in His own good time, bring the truth to light. This I must do by a calm, cheerful performance of present duty."

So she replied in a courageous tone, "I am glad, for we have much to do to-day."

"Yes; I must finish my quarterly report to be read at our next meeting."

"Certainly; but there are other duties more pressing."

"Of what nature?"

"Duties, Henry, connected with this charge. I am grieved that you delayed so long taking me into your confidence, for it makes my task much more difficult, though I appreciate your motive. Now I am going to show you what a woman's, or rather a wife's wit and shrewdness can do when enlisted in behalf of her husband. When you are dressed, I want you to go over all the facts with me beginning at the very first hint you had of this disgraceful business."

A look of pain clouded Mr. Washburn's features.

"I have been over and over the whole to myself in minute detail so many times," he said wearily, "but I never can arrive at any satisfactory result. I have almost come to the conclusion that in a moment of insanity or absence of mind, or confusion of ideas, I did retain in my possession more than was really my due."

"Which would render you an object of compassion, and necessitate you to resign your office. That is all. No disgrace could attach to you, not for a moment. But I am far from believing you did even so much. If you kept what was not your own, what did you do with it?"

The Rector's face brightened. "Yes, Mary, that is an important question. Have I given you more than the stipulated amount of my salary?"

"Not a penny. I have, during the night, examined both the family account-book and your private memorandum. Either, with the cunning of an insane man you have hidden the deposit in some out-of-the-way place, or you have developed a new phase of character and have spent money on personal luxuries in the city."

This she said so archly that they both laughed. Then he caught her hand and kissed it tenderly.

"God be praised for a good wife," he said with great fervor. "Mary, I have not had so light a heart for a month."

"Nor I; and I have much better reasons for cheerful contentment with our lot, though it is a little cloudy at present than you have expressed. I have a Friend, who, I am confident, will help clear away the clouds and allow us to see the bright sunshine again."

"You mean an Almighty friend. My good wife, you make me ashamed of my little faith."

"And I can account for your doubts in a degree. For a year or two, you have not been in your usual strength. Especially since your first seizure, you have been subject to sudden attacks of pain and confusion in the head, and while in this weakened condition, you have been tortured with doubts of your own actions, while under the temporary loss of your mental power. This shrinking from your usual companions may, to some, have borne the appearance of guilt, instead of being the natural working of a too sensitive organization. From my present standpoint, I can see many instances where it would have been wiser for you to act differently. But that is all past. Now, my husband, you must have done with doubts. You must rouse your manly courage to look this accusation fairly in the face. You must demand a thorough investigation of the whole receipts and expenditures from the hour you entered upon your duties as Treasurer."

"I told the Bishop that would be my wish, and that I would afford him all the aid in my power, by giving into his hands all books and papers connected with my work."

"You have seen the Bishop, then?"

"Yes, for an hour or more at my office. It was a most painful interview."

"When did you go to P—?"

"At four o'clock. I went out by advice of the Bishop to see Mr. Temple."

"Was that interview equally painful?" flushing as she thought of the insulting letter.

"Far more so. Oh, Mary, it is terrible to experience such humiliation from those we accounted our truest friends."

"So it was for our blessed Lord. Now, Henry, you must dress, and meet the children at breakfast with an unclouded brow. I shall take the first opportunity to tell them all. Family secrets are my abhorrence. After prayers, I have several questions to ask you."