Scottish sketches Part 29

"O Matt! Matt!" she cried; "how cruel, how shameful, not to answer this appeal."

"Well, I did it for the best; but it seems I have made a mistake. Sam and I both thought an ailing body dovering round the hearthstone and doorstone was not to be thought of--and n.o.body to do a hand's turn but old Elsie, who is nearly blind--and Davie never was one to do a decent hand job, let by it was herding sheep, and that it was not like he'd be fit for; so we just agreed to let the matter lie where it was."

"Oh, it was a cruel shame, Matt."

"Well, it was a mistake; for yesterday Sam went to Kendall, and there, in the Stramon-gate, he met Tom Philipson, who is just home from India. And what does Tom say but, 'Have you seen the general yet?'

and, 'Great man is Gen. Denton,' and, 'Is it true that he is going to buy the Derwent estate?' and, 'Wont the Indian Government miss Gen.

Denton!' Sam wasn't going to let Tom see how the land lay, and Tom went off saying that Sam had no call to be so pesky proud; that it wasn't him who had conquered the Mahrattas and taken the Ghiznee Pa.s.s."

Jennie was crying bitterly, and saying softly to herself, "O my brave laddie! O my bonnie lile Davie!"

"Hush, woman! No good comes of crying. Write now as soon as you like, and the sooner the better."

In a very few hours Jennie had acted on this advice, and, though the writing and spelling were wonderful, the poor sick general, nursing himself at the Bath waters, felt the love that spoke in every word. He had not expected much from his brothers; it was Jennie and Jennie's bairns he wanted to see. He was soon afterwards an honored guest in Esthwaite Grange, and the handsome old soldier, riding slowly among the lovely dales, surrounded by his nephews and nieces, became a well-known sight to the villages around.

Many in Thirlston remembered him, and none of his old companions found themselves forgotten. Nor did he neglect his brothers. These cautious men had become of late years manufacturers, and it was said were growing fabulously rich. They had learned the value of the low coppice woods on their fell-side, and had started a bobbin-mill which Sam superintended, while Matt was on constant duty at the great steam-mill on Milloch-Force, where he spun his own wools into blankets and serges.

The men were not insensible to the honor of their brother's career; they made great capital of it privately. But they were also intensely dissatisfied at the reckless way in which he spent his wealth. Young David Esthwaite had joined a crack regiment with his uncle's introduction and at his uncle's charges, and Jennie and Mary Esthwaite had been what the brothers considered extravagantly dowered in order that they might marry two poor clergymen whom they had set their hearts on.

"It is just sinful, giving women that much good gold," said Matt angrily: "and here we are needing it to keep a great business afloat."

It was the first time Matt had dared to hint that the mill under his care was not making money, and he was terribly shocked when Sam made a similar confession. In fact, the brothers, with all their cleverness and industry, were so ignorant that they were necessarily at the mercy of those they employed, and they had fallen into roguish hands. Sam proposed that David should be asked to look over their affairs and tell them where the leakage was: "He was always a lile-hearted chap, and I'd trust him, Matt, up hill and down dale, I would."

But Matt objected to this plan. He said David must be taken through the mills and the most made of everything, and then in a week or two afterwards be offered a partners.h.i.+p; and Matt, being the eldest, carried the day. A great festival was arranged, everything was seen to the best advantage, and David was exceedingly interested. He lingered with a strange fascination among the steam-looms, and Matt saw the bait had taken, for as they walked back together to the old homestead David said, "You were ever a careful man, Matt, but it must take a deal of money--you understand, brother--if you need at any time--I hope I don't presume."

"Certainly not. Yes, we are doing a big business--a very good business indeed; perhaps when you are stronger you may like to join us."

"I sha'n't get stronger, Matt--so I spoke now."

Sam, in his anxiety, thought Matt had been too prudent; he would have accepted Davie's offer at once; but Matt was sure that by his plan they would finally get all the general's money into their hands.

However, the very clever always find some quant.i.ty that they have failed to take into account. After this long day at the mills General Denton had a severe relapse, and it was soon evident that his work was nearly finished.

"But you must not fret, Jennie dear," he said cheerfully; "I am indeed younger in years than you, but then I have lived a hundred times as long. What a stirring, eventful life I have had! I must have lived a cycle among these hills to have evened it; and most of my comrades are already gone."

One day, at the very last, he said, "Jennie, there is one bequest in my will may astonish you, but it is all right. I went to see her a month ago. She is a widow now with a lot of little lads around her.

And I loved her, Jennie--never loved any woman but her. Poor Mary! She has had a hard time; I have tried to make things easier."

"You had always a lile heart, Davie; you could do no wrong to any one."

"I hope not. I--hope--not." And with these words and a pleasant smile the general answered some call that he alone heard, and trusting in his Saviour, pa.s.sed confidently

"The quicks and drift that fill the rift Between this world and heaven."

His will, written in the kindest spirit, caused a deal of angry feeling; for it was shown by it that after his visit to the Denton Mills he had revoked a bequest to the brothers of 20,000, because, as he explicitly said, "My dear brothers do not need it;" and this 20,000 he left to Mary b.u.t.terworth Pierson, "who is poor and delicate, and does sorely need it." And the rest of his property he divided between Jennie and Jennie's bairns.

In the first excitement of their disappointment and ruin, Sam, who dreaded his brother's anger, and who yet longed for some sympathetic word, revealed to Jennie and her husband the plan Matt had laid, and how signally it had failed.

"I told him, squire, I did for sure, to be plain and honest with Davie. Davie was always a lile fellow, and he would have helped us out of trouble. Oh, dear! oh, dear! that 20,000 would just have put a'

things right."

"A straight line, lad, is always the shortest line in business and morals, as well as in geometry; and I have aye found that to be true in my dealings is to be wise. Lying serves no one but the devil, as ever I made out."