University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

The good fortune which had extricated Duncan Powell from his
difficulties, instead of making him more provident, only made him,
if possible, more reckless. Impressed with the wild idea that he
could replenish his resources whenever they run low, he was heedless
of expense, and launched out upon a course of extravagance
that quite left all other fashionable spendthrifts in the background.
For a few weeks he pursued his course without a check. At length
his finances begun sensibly to diminish, and he was surprised one
day to find his check returned from the bank, where he had deposited
his eight thousand dollars, with the appalling words written
upon it, `No deposits—overdrawn $100.'

After yielding a few moments to the surprise this announcement
occasioned him, his thoughts instantly reverted to his friend the
Jew; and taking his hat, he sallied out to call upon him. Threading
his way along Broadway, he crossed through the Park into
Chatham street, and having ascertained that he was not particularly
observed, darted into the pawnbroker's.

`Mr. Goldschnapp ish in Wall street,' replied a short, round-shouldered
Jewish lad, who was making out a ticket for a poor woman,
who had just pledged a pair of flat-irons for means to get bread
for her children. He was about leaving, when a familiar voice
from the third stall arrested his ear.

`It is worth fifty dollars; my father gave that for it! I must
have thirty on it. The seal is worth ten.'

`I can let you have only twenty,' said another Jew, who kept in
the shop, taking the watch and examining it. While Duncan was
trying to recollect the voice, for the speaker was hid, his eye fell
upon the seal, which he instantly recognized as one he had three
years before given Paul Tatnall, and instantly he recognized the
voice to be Paul's.

Fearing to be seen by him in such a place, he hurriedly withdrew,
resolving to return after dark, and then see both the Jew and
his pretty daughter Ruth. This was the first time he had encountered
Paul since his sojourn in the city; and the circumstances
under which he met him convinced him, that he must be in a reduced
condition, to part with a watch which he knew to have been
a gift from his mother. Paul, we will here observe, had now been
for some weeks leading a wild and vicious life in companionship
with his club-mates, the `River Rovers,' at times overrunning with
money, and at others reduced, as he was now, to resort to the pawnbroker's.
Paul had heard of Duncan's extravagant career, and had
seen him passing in the streets and on the race-course, but never
cared to be recognized by him, either from morbid pride or from
dislike. He could never forgive him for having become acquainted
with Catharine Ogilvie, whose treatment to him was the secret
of his reckless course! But to return for the present to Duncan.

The same evening he sought the Jew's again. Jacob was in his
little back-room, poring, as usual, over his cash-book. His horn
spectacles were on his nose, his snuff-box before him, and the little
lamp burned beside him, and he was deeply intent upon some
account, which seemed to perplex him, when the door-bell announced
a visiter.

`Humph! that must be master Duncan,' he said, grimly. `It is
his hour, and as I inquired today out of curiosity at the bank what
funds lay to his order, and found he had overdrawn a hundred, I have
expected him!'

He listened while the servant girl scuffed through the dark passage,
and heard Duncan's voice inquiring for him. The next moment
the spendthrift was in his presence, capped and cloaked!

`Ah, I am glad to find you in, Jacob,' he said, in a careless way,
as he threw aside his disguise; `I feared you might possibly be out,
for I want to see you most particularly.'

`You are quite a stranger. Have you been at Kirkwood the last
few weeks?' asked the Jew, dryly.

`No; I have been in town, and I am run ashore!' You must do
something for me, Goldschnapp!'

The Jew looked across the little desk at him with shrewd, half-closed
eyes, and smiled in a manner peculiar to him, when men
wanted money. At length he said,—

`You should have followed my advice. You will lose your inheritance!'

`O no! The old man never would cut me off; besides, you have
the key to his coffers; eh, my old Israelite!' and Duncan slapped
him on the shoulder, with familiar jocoseness.

Jacob did not encourage the manner, however, and his looks quite
froze Duncan, who said,—

`Well, I don't mean to offend you! You are too good a friend,
and have too pretty a daughter, for me to get out with you, eh, Jacob!
But this money! I want some thousands!'

`What security can you offer?' asked Jacob, looking into his face
with his large, piercing gaze.

`Security! Why — the old man!' he answered, hesitating and
coloring.

`There is nothing more to be obtained from that source!' said
the money-lender, gravely.

`No?' inquired Duncan, with a start.

`Not a penny!'

`Your charm is broken, then. That is bad. I had looked to this!'

`You can look to it no longer! I have made a solemn oath not
to apply to him again for money!'

`A Jew's oath!' repeated Duncan, contemptuously.

`Is sacred!' said Jacob, in a firm voice.

`But you must do something. I am quite out of money. I have
not five dollars!'

`Give me security, and you shall have what you require, Mr.
Powell,' answered the money-lender, in an unmoved tone, adjusting
his spectacles, and then taking a huge pinch from his snuff-box.

`I have none! You know as well, nay, better than I do, my affairs
and expectations! Yes, my expectations. I will give you
security on these!'

`They are uncertain! Your father has ere this affixed his signature
to the will he had drawn up. You should have followed him
home! You have been imprudent, sir.'

`If he has done so, I will tear it from him! It shall be destroyed,'
he said, rising, and speaking with angry vehemence.

`This would be futile; for he will have recorded it in the proper
court, and this will stand good! You have probably lost your fortune!'

`Not if I can prevent it,' he answered, with fierce energy, striking
the closed fist of one hand into the palm of the other.

`This is folly! But possibly it may not be as I say! I advise
you to go to Kirkwood at once, and learn your true position!'

`I cannot meet the old man.'

`Then you have no alternative but to be a beggar,' said the Jew,
coolly; and, bending over his cash-book, he began to examine the
account he was engaged upon, when his ring at the door interrupted
him.

Duncan stood for some time eyeing the Jew with looks of bitter
hostility, as if his refusal to aid him merited his resentment. But
the quiet and indifferent manner of the money-lender led him to

see that he could do nothing by threats or violence, and he resolved
to appeal to his feelings. The money-lender listened to his
arguments and entreaties calmly; but the expression of his countenance
underwent no change.

`It is impossible, Mr. Powell,' he said, firmly, when Duncan had
said all he could say. `I never loan money without security.'

`If I will proceed to Kirkwood, and on my return bring you evidence
that my father has not disinherited me, will you advance me
money?' asked Duncan, in deep distress.

`No. For I should have no pledge that he would not yet do it.'

Duncan was overwhelmed with despair! His situation rushed
upon his mind in all its terrors! To be in an instant reduced from
affluence and the full tide of fashionable living almost to destitution!
It was true he had two horses and a phaeton, and rich furniture;
but the idea of making a public sale of them, and thereby
exposing his poverty, was mortifying to his vanity and pride. He
thought of the taunts, the scorn, and the contempt of those he had
outshone and rivalled, and the sneers of his associates! The reflection
was madness to him! He walked the little room with a hurried
step and fevered cheek.

`Mr. Goldschnapp, my good sir, you must do something for me!'
he said, suddenly stopping short and laying his hands upon his and
earnestly pressing it.

`Mr. Powell,' said the Jew, sternly, `it is quite out of the question!
I have no money to give away!'

`I do not want — you to give; but, yes, 't is true I am begging it
— for I can offer you no security! You are right, and I am degraded
and lost!'

He threw himself into a chair, buried his face in his hands upon
the table, and for a few moments the hard eye of the Jew softened
at the fearful exhibition of his hopeless despair. At length he
closed his book, and, after surveying the heaving agitated form of
the spendthrift, he said, in a mild tone,—

`Mr. Powell.'

`Sir,' answered Duncan, lifting his tearful face with a flush of
hope at the sound of his name uttered in a tone of sympathy.

`Perhaps I can make one more effort to save your estate, if—'

`Name the condition, if it be body and soul!' he exclaimed, with
passionate energy, grasping the money-lender's hand, and looking
in his face as if life depended upon his words.

Jacob Goldschnapp leaned with his face nearer to the young man,
and in a lower voice said, in a friendly tone,—

`I have been examining of late the record of your father's deed,
and find he has a very fine landed estate — very! It were a pity it
should pass away from the natural heir — a great pity! Now I am
willing to make an effort to secure to you this fine patrimony —
even granted the will be on record, provided —' Here Jacob dropped
his voice to a whisper, smiled a little, and then added, `that
you take a wife of my choosing!'

`A wife!'

`Yes.'

`Who is she?'

`My daughter Ruth,' answered Jacob, serenely.

`A Jewess!' exclaimed the astonished young man.

`She is half a Christian! She will scarce corrupt you, were she
a strict Jew,' said the money-lender, with irony.

Duncan reflected for a moment, and then, turning to Jacob, said,
emphatically,—

`Done! But will she marry me?'

`You must win her. She is already half won.'

`Indeed! It will be pleasant wooing. Then if I pledge myself
to wed your daughter you—'

`I pledge myself to secure your patrimony to you.'

`If you fail?'

`Your pledge is given back.'

`And I am beggared! This will never do. I want money now,
to-night. I can't wait to woo the Jewess, and run the risk at
last!'

`There is no alternative! Sell to-morrow one of your horses,
and get a little ready money, and wait the issue of my visit to Kirkwood.
I do not require you to surrender your liberty to Ruth till
I have in my hands the power to place your property to your disposal.
There is yet another little condition — that Kirkwood, and
twenty thousand dollars beside, be settled on Ruth as her dower.'

`Be it so,' sighed Duncan. `When shall you return?'

`I go to-morrow! In the mean while make yourself as agreeable
to Ruth as you can.'

The money-lender smiled, and Duncan, convinced he had no
other alternative, resolved to accept the conditions, and took his
leave of his prospective father-in-law.

The ensuing day, at five in the afternoon, Jacob Goldschnapp took
passage on the North River steamer for the Highlands. During the
passage up this magnificent river he paced to and fro in a little
clear space near the wheel-house with his hands crossed behind
him, and his face inclined towards his breast, too deeply wrapped
in his own ambitious plans for settling money and wedding his
daughter, to heed the grandeur and beauty of the varied scenes
through which he was borne. Twilight still lingered over the
west as the boat entered the Highlands, and at half past eight
o'clock he was landed by starlight, with a leathern bag he always
journeyed with, at the Fishkill Pier. Inquiring the way to Kirkwood,
he started on foot upon a walk of a mile and a quarter. As
he followed the carriage road by the water-side, the dark hills ascended
skyward around him in solemn majesty, and the broad river
went glittering by like a rolling firmament. But his meditations
were not with nature, but in the secret chambers of his own scheming
and money-begetting breast.

Firmly made, vigorous and muscular, Jacob Goldschnapp strode
on until he came to the gate that led through the grounds to Kirkwood.
He entered them, and soon the mansion rose, dark and stately,
amid the old trees upon the tangled lawn. A light glimmered
through the trees from one of the wings, and thither he directed
his steps. All was silent around! Not a sound was heard;
not an object stirred! But for the lamp he would have thought the
place uninhabited. The window from which the light shone was
near the ground, and its rays streamed through the space left by a
broken shutter. With characteristic caution and curiosity Jacob
stole to the window before applying to the door. He approached
undiscovered, and stood where he could survey the interior of the
apartment. It was a small room, and contained a low bed, and beside
it on a small table burned the lamp that had shone out across
the lawn. An inkstand and small brass bell was also upon it.
Seated at the table, with the light shining full upon his thin and
shrunken visage, sat Beasely Powell, the sunken eyes and cheeks
in shadow, and giving his countenance a cadaverous and sepulchral
aspect, that made the Jew shrink for a moment, and ask himself
whether it were the living or dead he gazed upon! How changed
had he become in a few brief weeks of mental suffering and remorse!
Suffering on account of his son's ruinous career; remorse
on account of his own crimes! for, from the hour he had met the
Jew, he had been tortured with both the fear of being yet exposed
to the government, and of his again resorting to the same means,
notwithstanding his oath, to extract money from him. These
sources of annoyance had preyed upon him till he was now reduced
almost to a skeleton, yet clung to life with the tenacity that
only a miserly old man can exhibit.

The Jew watched him as he sat there as if trying to peruse a
parchment which, with shaking hands, he was holding down upon
the table before him. A glance showed Jacob that it was the will
he had seen in New York. He eagerly raised himself up on the
foot of the window to see if it was signed, and to his gratification
he saw that it was not. At this moment his old housekeeper entered,
followed by an old serving man.

`So you have come at last,' he said, pettishly, `after I have been
ringing till I am deaf! Mistress Hetty, I want you and James to
witness my signature to this instrument. It is conveying my estate,
real and personal, to a charitable purpose.'

`And what is to become of young master Duncan?' asked the
housekeeper, abruptly.

`Have I not forbid your mentioning his name?' cried the father,
angrily. He is no longer my son! I have in a codicil here provided
for you both, but I have cut him off with a shilling! Never
speak to me again of him!' Here Mr. Powell fell into a severe fit
of coughing, brought on by his excitement, and it was some moments
before he was able to articulate. `Now I want you to see
me sign this, and then witness it with your hands. I expected my
attorney here in the boat; but he has not come, I dare say, and I
can't wait!'

Here Mr. Powell took up the pen, and was about to write his
name, when the Jew, in a deep voice, growled from the outside of
the window.

`Beware of the “Panther's Gap!” '

Instantly the housekeeper and the man-servant fell to the floor
in terror, while the commissary sat with the pen in his hand, paralyzed
by fear! His eyes rolled fearfully round the room, and for a
moment the Jew thought he would expire with the shock. This
interruption had been unpremeditated on Jacob's part; but, as he
did not intend to have the will signed, he resorted to the second
thought that occurred to him, the first being to jump through the
window and snatch the will from before him! He now resolved
to enter the house by applying to the door, and, following up his
advantage, endeavor to prevail by argument upon him to give his
son the estate. He left the window for this purpose, when he heard
a horseman galloping up the avenue, and he immediately retreated
in the shadow of the wing, secing, as he repassed the window, that
those within were recovering from their terror. The rider rode up
to the door, and, dismounting, fastened his horse to a tree and
knocked loudly. The door flew open of itself at the third stroke,
and he entered the dark hall. The Jew had recognized him, as he
rode across the glare of the lamp from the window, as a person
who had travelled upon the boat with him, and whom he knew to
be a celebrated city lawyer, who had the business of Mr. Powell's
property. This recognition drew a deep curse from the bosom of
the Jew, who, in his coming, believed he foresaw the defeat of his
object. Creeping to the window, and deferring for the present his
intention of entering, he stood where he could, unseen, command
the interior. The housekeeper and man James were upon their
feet, but trembling with the additional fear which the loud knocking

of the attorney had produced. Mr. Powell was still in the same
attitude in which his fear and guilt had paralyzed him. The door
was thrown open at this juncture, and the attorney entered.

`Why, Mr. Powell, you keep your halls so dark and lumbered up,
I nearly broke my neck. How do you do? Writing I see! Why,
what is this?' he cried, as the terrified servants crowded into one
corner, and Mr. Powell's countenance was pale and haggard with fear.

`It is no ghost, then?' stuttered Jemmy; `but only your honor's
honor.'

`We have been nearly terrified to death by some dreadful voice,
Mr. Stone,' said the housekeeper, relieved on recognizing him, as
he came nearer the light.

`I should think so! Why, Mr. Powell, what ails you, my dear
sir?' he asked, laying his hand upon his shoulder. `Stir up, man!'

`Was it only you, then?' asked the commissary, with an effort
to laugh painfully struggling on his deadly cheek.

`Yes. You all seemed frightened to death.'

`It was you, then?'

`Why yes; do you not see me?'

Mr. Powell smiled with restored confidence, and was about to
shake him by the hand, when his countenance changed, and in a
hoarse whisper, that made the lawyer start, said,—

`But how knew you that? Who told you that secret? The
false Jew?'

`What secret? What Jew? Your fright has disturbed you, my
dear sir.'

`You do not know it, then?' he asked, eagerly.

`What?' inquired the amazed attorney.

`Then you did not speak? It was not you?'

`No! Some one else has alarmed you!'

The commissary gazed fearfully round the room, shuddered, and
seemed relieved, even at the startling reflection, that the mysterious
voice might have been supernatural rather than human! for human
exposure and human laws he alone feared! With some relief of
mind, yet still impressed with fear, he then prepared to enter upon
business with the attorney.

From without, the disappointed and vexed Jew beheld the signature
finally affixed, and saw the attorney and the servants attest it.
He ground his teeth with rage; for he saw there was now no prospect
of securing the spendthrift's fortune to his daughter, nor no
further opportunities of making fifty per cent. out of his proposed
son-in-law. He remained watching, and saw the will delivered by
the old man to the attorney, to be taken to New York and recorded,
and then heard the lawyer decline a bed on the plea of having to
transact some business at Fishkill the same night. And at the
same time bidding Mr. Powell `good night,' he left the room, escorted
by Jemmy with the lamp.

At this moment an idea suddenly entered the Jew's brain, and,
hastening from his post behind the shutter, he ran rapidly and actively
along the hedge bounding the lawn, and reached the gate by
the high road just as the lawyer came galloping down the avenue.
Here, concealing himself in the impenetrable shade of overhanging
trees, he drew a short pistol from his breast, a companion he never
left home without, and awaited his approach. The attorney came
down the avenue at a hand gallop, and dismounting by the large
heavy gate, dismounted, to open and lead his horse through.

`Stand!' cried the Jew, in a deep, stern voice, cocking his pistol
and presenting it to his breast.

`Money you want, eh?' said the lawyer, coolly. `There is my
purse;' and Jacob heard it fall at his feet. Surprised at the man's
composure he was thrown off his guard; when the attorney, who
was a stout, full-sized man, grappled with him, and wrested the
weapon from his grasp. The Jew with a deep oath instantly sprang
backwards into the obscurity of the gateway; the darkness was
illumined by a flash, and the ball of his own pistol whizzed past
within an inch of his head. Execrating his want of success in
getting possession of the will, he remained concealed under cover
of the darkness until the city attorney remounted, muttering to
himself something about the shameful deficiency of police and
watchmen in every country place in which he had ever been!