University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.
THE AMARANTH.

Clementina returned to the city without having made
any very satisfactory discovery. Her parting was therefore
conventionally tender: she even thanked Joseph for
his hospitality, and endeavored to throw a little natural
emphasis into her words as she expressed the hope of
being allowed to renew her visit in the summer.

During her stay it seemed to Joseph that the early harmony
of his household had been restored. Julia's manner
had been so gentle and amiable, that, on looking back, he
was inclined to believe that the loneliness of her new life was
alone responsible for any change. But after Clementina's
departure his doubts were reawakened in a more threatening
form. He could not guess, as yet, the terrible chafing of a
smiling mask; of a restraint which must not only conceal
itself, but counterfeit its opposite; of the assumption by a
narrow, cold, and selfish nature of virtues which it secretly
despises. He could not have foreseen that the gentleness,
which had nearly revived his faith in her, would so suddenly
disappear. But it was gone, like a glimpse of the
sun through the winter fog. The hard, watchful expression
came back to Julia's face; the lowered eyelids no longer
gave a fictitious depth to her shallow, tawny pupils; the
soft roundness of her voice took on a frequent harshness,
and the desire of asserting her own will in all things
betrayed itself through her affected habits of yielding and
seeking counsel.

She continued her plan of making herself acquainted with
all the details of the farm business. When the roads began
to improve, in the early spring, she insisted in driving to the
village alone, and Joseph soon found that she made good use
of these journeys in extending her knowledge of the social
and pecuniary standing of all the neighboring families. She
talked with farmers, mechanics, and drovers; became familiar
with the fluctuations in the prices of grain and cattle;
learned to a penny the wages paid for every form of service;
and thus felt, from week to week, the ground growing more
secure under her feet.

Joseph was not surprised to see that his aunt's participation
in the direction of the household gradually diminished.
Indeed, he scarcely noticed the circumstance at all, but he
was at last forced to remark her increasing silence and the
trouble of her face. To all appearance the domestic harmony
was perfect, and if Rachel Miller felt some natural
regret at being obliged to divide her sway, it was a matter,
he thought, wherein he had best not interfere. One day,
however, she surprised him by the request:—

“Joseph, can you take or send me to Magnolia to-morrow?”

“Certainly, Aunt!” he replied. “I suppose you want
to visit Cousin Phebe; you have not seen her since last
summer.”

“It was that,—and something more.” She paused a moment,
and then added, more firmly: “She has always wished
that I should make my home with her, but I couldn't think
of any change so long as I was needed here. It seems to me
that I am not really needed now.”

“Why, Aunt Rachel!” Joseph exclaimed, “I meant this
to be your home always, as much as mine! Of course you

are needed,—not to do all that you have done heretofore,
but as a part of the family. It is your right.”

“I understand all that, Joseph. But I've heard it said
that a young wife should learn to see to everything herself,
and Julia, I'm sure, doesn't need either my help or my advice.”

Joseph's face became very grave. “Has she—has she—?”
he stammered.

“No,” said Rachel, “she has not said it—in words. Different
persons have different ways. She is quick, O very
quick!—and capable. You know I could never sit idly by,
and look on; and it's hard to be directed. I seem to belong
to the place and everything connected with it; yet there's
times when what a body ought to do is plain.”

In endeavoring to steer a middle course between her conscience
and her tender regard for her nephew's feelings Rachel
only confused and troubled him. Her words conveyed something
of the truth which she sought to hide under them.
She was both angered and humiliated; the resistance with
which she had attempted to meet Julia's domestic innovations
was no match for the latter's tactics; it had gone down
like a barrier of reeds and been contemptuously trampled
under foot. She saw herself limited, opposed, and finally
set aside by a cheerful dexterity of management which
evaded her grasp whenever she tried to resent it. Definite
acts, whereon to base her indignation, seemed to slip from
her memory, but the atmosphere of the house became fatal
to her. She felt this while she spoke, and felt also that
Joseph must be spared.

“Aunt Rachel,” said he, “I know that Julia is very anxious
to learn everything which she thinks belongs to her
place,—perhaps a little more than is really necessary. She's
an enthusiastic nature, you know. Maybe you are not fully

acquainted yet; maybe you have misunderstood her in some
things: I would like to think so.”

“It is true that we are different, Joseph,—very different.
I don't say, therefore, that I'm always right. It's likely,
indeed, that any young wife and any old housekeeper like
myself would have their various notions. But where there
can be only one head, it's the wife's place to be that head.
Julia has not asked it of me, but she has the right. I can't
say, also, that I don't need a little rest and change, and there
seems to be some call on me to oblige Phebe. Look at the
matter in the true light,” she continued, seeing that Joseph
remained silent, “and you must feel that it's only natural.”

“I hope so,” he said at last, repressing a sigh; “all things
are changing.”

“What can we do?” Julia asked, that evening, when he
had communicated to her his aunt's resolution; “it would
be so delightful if she would stay, and yet I have had a presentiment
that she would leave us—for a little while only, I
hope. Dear, good Aunt Rachel! I couldn't help seeing how
hard it was for her to allow the least change in the order of
housekeeping. She would be perfectly happy if I would sit
still all day and let her tire herself to death; but how can I
do that, Joseph? And no two women have exactly the same
ways and habits. I've tried to make everything pleasant
for her: if she would only leave many little matters entirely
to me, or at least not think of them,—but I fear she cannot.
She manages to see the least that I do, and secretly worries
about it, in the very kindness of her heart. Why can't women
carry on partnerships in housekeeping as men do in
business? I suppose we are too particular; perhaps I am
just as much so as Aunt Rachel. I have no doubt she
thinks a little hardly of me, and so it would do her good—

we should really come nearer again—if she had a change.
If she will go, Joseph, she must at least leave us with the
feeling that our home is always hers, whenever she chooses
to accept it.”

Julia bent over Joseph's chair, gave him a rapid kiss, and
then went off to make her peace with Aunt Rachel. When
the two women came to the tea-table the latter had an uncertain,
bewildered air, while the eyelids of the former were
red,—either from tears or much rubbing.

A fortnight afterwards Rachel Miller left the farm and
went to reside with her widowed niece, in Magnolia.

The day after her departure another surprise came to Joseph
in the person of his father-in-law. Mr. Blessing arrived
in a hired vehicle from the station. His face was so red and
radiant from the March winds, and perhaps some private
source of satisfaction, that his sudden arrival could not possibly
be interpreted as an omen of ill-fortune. He shook
hands with the Irish groom who had driven him over, gave
him a handsome gratuity in addition to the hire of the team,
extracted an elegant travelling-satchel from under the seat,
and met Joseph at the gate, with a breezy burst of feeling:—

“God bless you, son-in-law! It does my heart good to
see you again! And then, at last, the pleasure of beholding
your ancestral seat; really, this is quite—quite manorial!”

Julia, with a loud cry of “O pa!” came rushing from
the house.

“Bless me, how wild and fresh the child looks!” cried
Mr. Blessing, after the embrace. “Only see the country
roses on her cheeks! Almost too young and sparkling for
Lady Asten, of Asten Hall, eh? As Dryden says, `Happy,
happy, happy pair!' It takes me back to the days when I

was a gay young lark; but I must have a care, and not
make an old fool of myself. Let us go in and subside into
soberness: I am ready both to laugh and cry.”

When they were seated in the comfortable front room,
Mr. Blessing opened his satchel and produced a large leather-covered
flask. Julia was probably accustomed to his
habits, for she at once brought a glass from the sideboard.

“I am still plagued with my old cramps,” her father said
to Joseph, as he poured out a stout dose. “Physiologists,
you know, have discovered that stimulants diminish the wear
and tear of life, and I find their theories correct. You, in
your pastoral isolation and pecuniary security, can form no
conception of the tension under which we men of office and
of the world live. Beatus ille, and so forth,—strange that
the only fragment of Latin which I remember should be so
appropriate! A little water, if you please, Julia.”

In the evening, when Mr. Blessing, slippered, sat before
the open fireplace, with a cigar in his mouth, the object of
his sudden visit crept by slow degrees to the light. “Have
you been dipping into oil?” he asked Joseph.

Julia made haste to reply. “Not yet, but almost everybody
in the neighborhood is ready to do so now, since Clemson
has realized his fifty thousand dollars in a single year.
They are talking of nothing else in the village. I heard
yesterday, Joseph, that Old Bishop has taken three thousand
dollars' worth of stock in a new company.”

“Take my advice, and don't touch 'em!” exclaimed Mr.
Blessing.

“I had not intended to,” said Joseph.

“There is this thing about these excitements,” Mr. Blessing
continued: “they never reach the rural districts until
the first sure harvest is over. The sharp, intelligent operators

in the large cities—the men who are ready to take up
soap, thimbles, hand-organs, electricity, or hymn-books, at a
moment's notice—always cut into a new thing before its
value is guessed by the multitude. Then the smaller fry
follow and secure their second crop, while your quiet men
in the country are shaking their heads and crying `humbug!'
Finally, when it really gets to be a humbug, in a
speculative sense, they just begin to believe in it, and are
fair game for the bummers and camp-followers of the financial
army. I respect Clemson, though I never heard of him
before; as for Old Bishop, he may be a very worthy man,
but he'll never see the color of his three thousand dollars
again.”

“Pa!” cried Julia, “how clear you do make everything.
And to think that I was wishing—O, wishing so much!—
that Joseph would go into oil.”

She hung her head a little, looking at Joseph with an
affectionate, penitent glance. A quick gleam of satisfaction
passed over Mr. Blessing's face; he smiled to himself, puffed
rapidly at his cigar for a minute, and then resumed: “In
such a field of speculation everything depends on being initiated.
There are men in the city—friends of mine—who
know every foot of ground in the Alleghany Valley. They
can smell oil, if it's a thousand feet deep. They never touch
a thing that isn't safe,—but, then, they know what's safe.
In spite of the swindling that's going on, it takes years to
exhaust the good points; just so sure as your honest neighbors
here will lose, just so sure will these friends of mine
gain. There are millions in what they have under way, at
this moment.”

“What is it?” Julia breathlessly asked, while Joseph's
face betrayed that his interest was somewhat aroused.

Mr. Blessing unlocked his satchel, and took from it a roll
of paper, which he began to unfold upon his knee. “Here,”
he said, “you see this bend of the river, just about the centre
of the oil region, which is represented by the yellow
color. These little dots above the bend are the celebrated
Fluke Wells; the other dots below are the equally celebrated
Chowder Wells. The distance between the two is
nearly three miles. Here is an untouched portion of the
treasure,—a pocket of Pactolus waiting to be rifled. A few
of us have acquired the land, and shall commence boring
immediately.”

“But,” said Joseph, “it seems to me that either the attempt
must have been made already, or that the land must
command such an enormous price as to lessen the profits.”

“Wisely spoken! It is the first question which would
occur to any prudent mind. But what if I say that neither
is the case? And you, who are familiar with the frequent
eccentricities of old farmers, can understand the explanation.
The owner of the land was one of your ignorant, stubborn
men, who took such a dislike to the prospectors and speculators,
that he refused to let them come near him. Both the
Fluke and Chowder Companies tried their best to buy him
out, but he had a malicious pleasure in leading them on to
make immense offers, and then refusing. Well, a few
months ago he died, and his heirs were willing enough to let
the land go; but before it could be regularly offered for sale,
the Fluke and Chowder Wells began to flow less and less.
Their shares fell from 270 to 95; the supposed value of the
land fell with them, and finally the moment arrived when
we could purchase for a very moderate sum. I see the question
in your mind; why should we wish to buy when the
other wells were giving out? There comes in the secret,

which is our veritable success. Consider it whispered in
your ears, and locked in your bosoms,—torpedoes! It was
not then generally exploded (to carry out the image), so we
bought at the low figure, in the very nick of time. Within
a week the Fluke and Chowder Wells were torpedoed, and
came back to more than their former capacity; the shares
rose as rapidly as they had fallen, and the central body we
hold—to which they are, as it were, the two arms—could
now be sold for ten times what it cost us!”

Here Mr. Blessing paused, with his finger on the map,
and a light of merited triumph in his eyes. Julia clapped
her hands, sprang to her feet, and cried: “Trumps at
last!”

“Ay,” said he, “wealth, repose for my old days,—
wealth for us all, if your husband will but take the hand
I hold out to him. You now know, son-in-law, why the
endorsement you gave me was of such vital importance;
the note, as you are aware, will mature in another week.
Why should you not charge yourself with the payment,
in consideration of the transfer to you of shares of the
original stock, already so immensely appreciated in value?
I have delayed making any provision, for the sake of
offering you the chance.”

Julia was about to speak, but restrained herself with
an apparent effort.

“I should like to know,” Joseph said, “who are associated
with you in the undertaking?”

“Well done, again! Where did you get your practical
shrewdness? The best men in the city!—not only the
Collector and the Surveyor, but Congressman Whaley,
E. D. Stokes, of Stokes, Pirricutt and Company, and even
the Reverend Doctor Lellifant. If I had not been an

old friend of Kanuck, the agent who negotiated the
purchase, my chance would have been impalpably small.
I have all the documents with me. There has been no
more splendid opportunity since oil became a power!
I hesitate to advise even one so near to me in such
matters; but if you knew the certainties as I know them,
you would go in with all your available capital. The
excitement, as you say, has reached the country communities,
which are slow to rise and equally slow to
subside; all oil stock will be in demand, but the Amaranth,—`The
Blessing,' they wished to call it, but I was
obliged to decline, for official reasons,—the Amaranth
shares will be the golden apex of the market!”

Julia looked at Joseph with eager, hungry eyes. He,
too, was warmed and tempted by the prospect of easy
profit which the scheme held out to him; only the habit
of his nature resisted, but with still diminishing force.
“I might venture the thousand,” he said.

“It is no venture!” Julia cried. “In all the speculations
I have heard discussed by pa and his friends,
there was nothing so admirably managed as this. Such
a certainty of profit may never come again. If you
will be advised by me, Joseph, you will take shares to
the amount of five or ten thousand.”

“Ten thousand is exactly the amount I hold open,”
Mr. Blessing gravely remarked. “That, however, does
not represent the necessary payment, which can hardly
amount to more than twenty-five per cent. before we
begin to realize. Only ten per cent. has yet been called,
so that your thousand at present will secure you an investment
of ten thousand. Really, it seems like a fortunate
coincidence.”

He went on, heating himself with his own words, until
the possibilities of the case grew so splendid that Joseph
felt himself dazzled and bewildered. Mr. Blessing was
a master in the art of seductive statement. Even where
he was only the mouthpiece of another, a few repetitions
led him to the profoundest belief. Here there could be
no doubt of his sincerity, and, moreover, every movement
from the very inception of the scheme, every statistical
item, all collateral influences, were clear in his mind and
instantly accessible. Although he began by saying, “I
will make no estimate of the profits, because it is not prudent
to fix our hopes on a positive sum,” he was soon
carried far away from this resolution, and most luxuriously
engaged, pencil in hand, in figuring out results which
drove Julia wild with desire, and almost took away Joseph's
breath. The latter finally said, as they rose from the
session, late at night:—

“It is settled that I take as much as the thousand will
cover; but I would rather think over the matter quietly
for a day or two before venturing further.”

“You must,” replied Mr. Blessing, patting him on
the shoulder. “These things are so new to your experience,
that they disturb and—I might almost say—alarm
you. It is like bringing an increase of oxygen into your
mental atmosphere. (Ha! a good figure: for the result
will be, a richer, fuller life. I must remember it.) But
you are a healthy organization, and therefore you are
certain to see clearly: I can wait with confidence.”

The next morning Joseph, without declaring his purpose,
drove to Coventry Forge to consult Philip. Mr.
Blessing and Julia, remaining at home, went over the
shining ground again, and yet again, confirming each

other in the determination to secure it. Even Joseph, as
he passed up the valley in the mild March weather, taking
note of the crimson and gold of the flowering spice-bushes
and maple-trees, could not prevent his thoughts from
dwelling on the delights of wealth,—society, books, travel,
and all the mellow, fortunate expansion of life. Involuntarily,
he hoped that Philip's counsel might coincide with
his father-in-law's offer.

But Philip was not at home. The forge was in full activity,
the cottage on the knoll was repainted and made
attractive in various ways, and Philip would soon return
with his sister to establish a permanent home. Joseph
found the sign-spiritual of his friend in numberless little
touches and changes; it seemed to him that a new soul
had entered into the scenery of the place.

A mile or two farther up the valley, a company of
mechanics and laborers were apparently tearing the old
Calvert mansion inside out. House, barn, garden, and
lawn were undergoing a complete transformation. While
he paused at the entrance of the private lane, to take a
survey of the operations, Mr. Clemson rode down to him
from the house. The Hopetons, he said, would migrate
from the city early in May: work had already commenced
on the new railway, and in another year a different life
would come upon the whole neighborhood.

In the course of the conversation Joseph ventured to
sound Mr. Clemson in regard to the newly formed oil
companies. The latter frankly confessed that he had
withdrawn from further speculation, satisfied with his
fortune; he preferred to give no opinion, further than
that money was still to be made, if prudently placed.
The Fluke and Chowder Wells, he said, were old, well

known, and profitable. The new application of torpedoes
had restored their failing flow, and the stock had recovered
from its temporary depreciation. His own venture had
been made in another part of the region.

The atmosphere into which Joseph entered, on returning
home, took away all further power of resistance.
Tempted already, and impressed by what he had learned,
he did what his wife and father-in-law desired.