Chapter XVI: The Conclusion

"Seest thou a man diligent in his business, he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean men."

BEFORE we close, we will sketch briefly some of the leading events in the life of our hero, and then take a final glance at the principal characters of our story.

Harrison continued in the employ of Mr. Kilby until the business of the firm of Grant & Co. was finally settled, and proved himself not only so faithful, but so well adapted to mercantile life, that, young as he was, the gentleman offered to take him into his store at the West, and give him a share of the profits, if he would consent to leave his native State.

But the youth could not for a moment entertain the question of leaving his mother in her feeble health, and he hesitated about assuming such a trust as would there devolve upon him until he had thoroughly learned the principles of the trade.

"If you will not accept my proposition," said his kind friend, with a smile, "I must do the next best thing for you, and find you a good place here."

He made many inquiries among his business friends, but found some objection to every situation that offered until he happened to meet an acquaintance at a public dinner, when the following conversation took place:

"Do you know of a good opening for a young man every way unexceptionable in character and habits?"

"We have a vacancy in our store; but I am anxious to find a youth to whom I promised to apply in case such an event should occur. Unfortunately I have lost his address."

"I can recommend my young friend highly," urged Mr. Kilby; and he related briefly the connection Harrison maintained to him.

"A fine fellow, I have no doubt," was the warm reply; "but I took a fancy to this lad, and I really want to find him. He had an open, ingenuous countenance, and eyes that did not quail when you looked him square in the face. He told me he supported his mother, too; and I like boys that do that. So, much as I should like to oblige you, I'll make a thorough search for my friend before I give him up."

"At any rate, you wont object to my calling with him?"

"Certainly not," was the laughing retort; "but don't encourage him about the vacancy."

The next morning, Harrison, in company with Mr. Kilby, walked to the wharf, and entered the store of Lombard & Lamb, the gentleman motioning the youth to walk forward to the counting-room, where he saw Mr. Lombard writing at the desk, while he stopped a moment to speak to the other partner.

Harrison instantly recognized the gentleman who had been so kind to him at the time he was looking for a place. He stood near the counting-room door, hesitating whether to enter, when the old gentleman looked up.

"Ah!" he said, holding out his hand, in the most cordial manner, "I'm glad to see you again. Walk in here; I want to talk with you!"

At this moment Mr. Kilby came forward, when Mr. Lombard said, quickly, much to the youth's surprise, "This is the one I mentioned. If he is not engaged, your protegé will have no chance."

The gentleman smiled as he said, "Your description was so good that I suspected we were talking of the same individual. Before you engage him, however, I shall wish to be consulted, as he is under my care."

The preliminaries being most happily arranged, Harrison entered the store of Lombard & Lamb, as salesman, this firm being in the same general business as that of Grant & Company. Here he maintained the same character for industry and honesty as when connected with the other firm, and rose step by step in the confidence and esteem of his employers, until he joined the firm as junior partner. A few years later, Mr. Lombard, now at an advanced age, declared his intention of retiring from active business. He did so; but not until he had testified by his conduct, his high appreciation of the energetic habits and the high business qualifications of his young partner, by giving him an equal share in the profits of the firm.

In all his prosperity, Mrs. Danforth shared, and was often cheered by her son's assurance that to her faithful instructions, under God, he owed all his success.

"You early taught me to work, mother," he would say, with a smile of filial affection, "and it is right you should reap the reward of my industry."

Mrs. Haven continued to reside in the country for many years, occupying herself in completing her daughter's education, for which employment she was well fitted. At length, having entirely lost all knowledge of Alfred, she ventured to yield to Ella's desire, and moved back to her pleasant cottage, which had been thoroughly repaired for her use.

And now, my young reader, if, as I hope, you have followed the fortunes of my humble hero with interest, let me invite you to visit with me that fine mansion reared upon the spot where once stood Mrs. Haven's cottage. It is Christmas eve; and, as we approach, we see that the house is brilliantly illuminated. It is evident that company is expected. In a spacious parlor on the right of the hall stands a fine, noble-looking man, in whom it would be difficult to recognize our young favorite, Harrison Danforth. Yet, when he turns to the lady on his left, with a smile, we see that his mouth has lost none of its sweetness, though the predominent expression is firmness. In his whole character and bearing, he exemplifies the text which so animated him in his youth, "Seest thou a man diligent in his business, he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean men."

The lady just referred to, is of that beautiful fairness of complexion which is usually found only in children. As she stands there by her life's chosen companion, with her soft hair partly shading her fair forehead, her lips parted in a smile, she looks too young to have taken upon herself the cares of a matron. Then, again, have you never before seen that bright, laughing face, with the deepening color coming and going like a cloud in a summer sky? Yes, it is Ella Haven, fulfilling more than the promise of her childhood, for she has received humbly the chastening rod of her Heavenly Father, and has come forth from the furnace refined like silver. For nearly three years the mortal remains of her mother have been reposing in the quiet church yard; but her soul, through faith in Christ, rested safely in the bosom of her God.

Near the happy pair, in a quiet corner, sits Mrs. Danforth, with a look of calm happiness upon her features. She is now receiving a rich reward, in the usefulness and happiness of her son, for all her labors, instructions, and prayers in his behalf, and every day realizes in her own experience the truth of the precious promise, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it."

Presently the expected company begin to arrive. Carriage after carriage drives to the door, is disburdened of its living freight, and rolls away to make room for still others. Truly, this is a goodly gathering.

And now the guests have all advanced to their host and hostess, exchanged cordially with them the compliments of the evening, and scattered themselves around the room to discuss the topics of the day. But they have scarcely formed themselves into groups before a little urchin of three summers is led into the room by his nurse, from whom he escapes the moment he espies his parents among the crowd.

"Papa, come! Mamma, see! pretty angels here for Harry," and taking his father's hand, attempted to pull him from the room. Mr. Danforth laughingly yielded to the little fellow, though this was not exactly the programme for the evening; and, after a moment's consultation with his wife, in a raised voice, requested any of the company who liked to do so, to proceed to the next room.

Most of those present quickly followed. Upon the doors being opened, a large Christmas-tree was seen standing in the further corner of the apartment, the branches hung with small, colored candles, interspersed with a great variety of children's toys. Suspended above the tree was the angel referred to by Harry. Its arms were folded lovingly across its breast; but its wings were spread, as if on this auspicious eve it hovered over the scene.

But the prettiest tableaux of all was the twenty little boys and girls, under six years of age, who, in their holiday attire, stood with raised eyes and clasped hands, apparently entranced by the heavenly vision. There was a sudden hush among the company to gaze at them.

Presently the angel's wings began to flutter, as if she wished to take her flight. But no; she descended and rested on the topmost branch of the tree, when, wonderful to relate, another angel appeared, and began to distribute the Christmas gifts. With outstretched pinions she seemed scarcely to touch the earth, as she beckoned to one and another of the awe-struck group, and placed some beautiful trinket within their hands. Not a word was spoken while the scene lasted, and the silence was becoming almost embarrassing to the principal actor, when Harry, who had stood watching the angel with his large, earnest eyes, suddenly cried out, "Oh, it's my mamma! I see her curls tucked under the cap," clapping his tiny hands, in his joy.

Seeing herself discovered, Ella lifted her light crown, and her hair falling to its natural position, the children gave a sigh of relief, and the company burst into a merry laugh.

The little ones then were invited to a number of pleasant games, in which Master Johnny Cowles Marland, a little youngster claimed by our old friend Mary Jane, quite distinguished himself. They were playing button, button, who has the button? when he arose at once, and proudly declared himself to be the favored possessor. Neither, when the game was explained to him, could he be made to understand that it was right for him to guess, "Harry or Nelly have the button," while he held it between his own fingers. "No, no!" he cried; "I has got the button, and danpa dives me oranges when I tell the truth."

There was quite a shout at this, and one of the gentlemen remarked to Alderman Cowles, "He is a chip of the old block, I see."

After the games, the ladies and gentlemen walked to the supper-room to see the children partake of refreshments, when the little ones were consigned to the care of their nurses, and sent home to their pillows, to dream of the angels, while the older company returned to the parlors to seek further entertainment.

From these innocent amusements we must carry the reader to far graver scenes.

During the evening in question, the mind of Mr. Danforth more than once reverted to a cold, damp dungeon, not a dozen miles from his house, where, awaiting his trial for murder, lay a prisoner,— the brother of his beloved wife. He tried to throw it off and mingle gaily in the scene; but there would ever and anon come up to his remembrance thoughts of other days, when Alfred, the haughty, proud, and idle boy delighted to domineer over him, the poor but diligent youth. How strikingly in contrast was the meeting of that very day. God had rewarded the honest exertions of the poor youth, and he was rich and esteemed among men; while the idle, slothful boy had become a contemner of God, and had been cast away among the very lowest dregs of society.

The Monday following Christmas, Mrs. Danforth, wholly unconscious that her only brother was that day to be brought to trial for his life, proposed to her husband to improve the first sleighing by a ride. "Only think!" she exclaimed, with something of the enthusiasm of her girlhood, "How funny it will be for Harry! You know he can't remember riding in a sleigh."

"I should enjoy it extremely," said her husband, in a serious tone; "but I shall be very much engaged to-day, in fact all the week; but that need not prevent you and Harry from enjoying this fine winter weather. Robert can be spared from the store, and if you say so, I'll send him out."

"But what have you to do?" she asked, playfully. "Some public business, T dare say. I'm almost sorry that people like you so very well, for I don't see you half as much as I want to."

"Thank you, my dear. The knowledge of your affection will strengthen me in the performance of one of the most painful duties I have ever discharged. I am to-day to sit in judgment upon one of my fellow-creatures who is on trial for his life. I tremble lest I should judge him wrongfully."

"Dreadful!" cried the lady. "Who is he, and what is his crime?"

"He professes to be a Spaniard, from Cuba," responded the gentleman; "but I confess that I have my doubts upon that point. He pretends, too, that he cannot understand a word of English; but when I was conversing with the gentleman who accompanied me to the prison, the man listened as if he comprehended as well as any of us. The crime for which he was arrested is murder upon the sea. It seems that there was a very bad set among the crew; and they formed a conspiracy, headed by this man, to kill the captain, two mates and the cabin-boy, and then seize the vessel."

"Oh shocking!" exclaimed Ella. "But did they succeed?"

"Only in part. They murdered one of the mates and the poor boy, who could not be persuaded to join them. The captain by some means found them out in time to save his own life. Sandoval, as he calls himself, was put in irons, and the others closely watched until they reached the port from which they were all sent here for trial."

"Who went with you, Harrison?"

"A gentleman by the name of Captain Greyson,—a fine man, whom I like extremely. I shall want you to become acquainted with him. He seems quite sure that he once returned from Calcutta in a ship with the prisoner, and that he is not a Spaniard, as he pretends. He also is to be one of the jury men."

"Well, whoever he is," sighed the lady, "I'm sure I pity him with all my heart. I wonder whether he has any friends. When I hear of a very bad man, I always think what mamma and I suffered about poor Alfred. Husband," she added, after a moment's pause, "you needn't send Robert out; I don't think I could enjoy riding when I thought of you in the jury-box."

"Nonsense, dear!" he exclaimed, patting her head fondly. "It will be a comfort to me to know that you are enjoying yourself. I would not have told you, but I was afraid you might be anxious, as I may be detained overnight."

"What for?" she inquired, in alarm.

"In a case of capital crime, my dear, the jury are never allowed to converse with any one from the time they are impanelled, or sworn into their office, until the case is decided."

"Oh, I hope you'll be able to vote for him to be released," she urged, gazing earnestly in his face.

"I hope so, indeed, Ella!" he said, turning away, faint and sick at heart.

"Oh, what would she say!" he exclaimed when by himself, "if she knew the prisoner was her own brother. I cannot tell her. No; I must bear this dreadful burden of grief alone. Situated as she is, it might kill her."

On his way to the court-room he met Captain Greyson, whom we formerly knew and loved as Frank. "How strange," said he, "that the prisoner holds out so. Sometimes I am almost tempted to think I am mistaken in supposing that I once knew him."

"God grant that it may be so," replied Mr. Danforth, in a thrilling tone; and then recovering himself, added, "it seems to me tenfold worse to be the means of convicting a countryman."

"Perhaps," rejoined the officer, "if he should be found guilty, he may be more softened in view of his punishment."

After two days the criminal was remanded to his cell, condemned to be executed for wilful murder. Indeed, so overwhelming had been the testimony of his guilt, and that too of the most aggravated character, that the jury were unanimous in their opinion. How much one of them suffered during the thirty-six hours that he was retained, I must leave it to my readers to imagine. He returned to his mansion pallid, care-worn, and depressed, almost dreading to see Ella, for fear that she should read the dreadful truth in his sad countenance.

The family had been to tea when he arrived, and the poor wife was just deploring her hard fate to Mrs. Danforth when he appeared.

It seemed to him that he had never received so warm a welcome. His mother brought his slippers and dressing-gown, while Ella bustled about and passed him a cup of tea with her own hands, which was presently followed by a more substantial meal.

After he had partaken it, he was sitting with his head concealed by Harry's curls, trying to evade the inquiries of his wife, when the door was opened, and the servant announced Captain Greyson.

"I tried to overtake you as we came out of court," said the gentleman, frankly, "for I intended to impose myself upon your hospitality, but you were too quick for me. I don't wonder at it," he added, gayly casting his eye around the happy group.

"I will order some supper for you at once," said Mrs. Danforth, rising.

"Certainly you don't mean to impose upon me the duty of eating two suppers, after such a tedious time in court," he added, with a laugh. "No, I need nothing, thank you. I stopped at a restaurant before I came out of the city."

The conversation at length turned upon the poor criminal. Mrs. Danforth being very anxious to hear the particulars, the officer kindly complied with her request; Mr. Danforth, taking Harry in his arms and walking the room, all the while endeavoring to attract the notice of the other without being seen by his wife.

After describing his really loathsome appearance, his long, shaggy beard, his uncombed hair, and his look of defiance as he listened to his sentence, the gentleman, finding his hearers were greatly interested, went on to give an account of his first acquaintance with the culprit.

"It was in Calcutta," he began; "I am quite sure of the fact, though he persists in saying that he is a Spaniard. At that time he called himself—"

"Captain Greyson!" cried out Mr. Danforth, in a quick, sharp voice, "do come and tell me whether this is a good picture of St. Peter's church, at Rome; you have been there often, I suppose."

The gentleman complied, though evidently wondering not a little at the abruptness of the host.

"In mercy to us all," whispered Mr. Danforth, turning very pale, "say nothing more; I will explain at some future time;" then added aloud in a forced voice, "It is said to be very fine. I have long wanted to ask some one who would be frank enough to give me his real opinion."

"Excuse me, Ella," he said, as he returned to his seat, and hiding his face in the neck of the boy, "but really I find myself so nervous and excitable to-night, in consequence of my long confinement, that I may be guilty of some breach of etiquette."

The lady glanced anxiously at her husband, and for the first time noticing his haggard appearance, became really concerned for fear he would be ill.

"No," said he, "when I have bid Harry good-night, I will throw myself into the large chair at your side, and get Captain Greyson to favor us with a description of some of the wonderful sights he has witnessed."

And so by the kind and considerate care of her husband, Ella was saved the knowledge of the dreadful end to which her brother's crimes had brought him. Here we must leave them, trusting that we have accomplished the object of our simple story by verifying God's faithfulness to his promises, both as regards the industrious and the idle.