The gilded age :: :: University of Virginia Library

Judge Hawkins and Col. Sellers have made and lost two
or three moderate fortunes in the meantime and are now
pinched by poverty. Sellers has two pairs of twins and four
extras. In Hawkins's family are six children of his own and
two adopted ones. From time to time, as fortune smiled,
the elder children got the benefit of it, spending the lucky
seasons at excellent schools in St. Louis and the unlucky ones
at home in the chafing discomfort of straightened circumstances.

Neither the Hawkins children nor the world that knew
them ever supposed that one of the girls was of alien blood
and parentage. Such difference as existed between Laura
and Emily is not uncommon in a family. The girls had
grown up as sisters, and they were both too young at the
time of the fearful accident on the Mississippi to know that
it was that which had thrown their lives together.

And yet any one who had known the secret of Laura's
birth and had seen her during these passing years, say at the
happy age of twelve or thirteen, would have fancied that he

knew the reason why she was more winsome than her school
companion.

Philosophers dispute whether it is the promise of what she
will be in the careless school-girl, that makes her attractive,
the undeveloped maidenhood, or the mere natural, careless
sweetness of childhood. If Laura at twelve was beginning
to be a beauty, the thought of it had never entered her head.
No, indeed. Her mind was filled with more important
thoughts. To her simple school-girl dress she was beginning
to add those mysterious little adornments of ribbon-knots
and ear-rings, which were the subject of earnest consultations
with her grown friends.

When she tripped down the street on a summer's day with
her dainty hands propped into the ribbon-broidered pockets
of her apron, and elbows consequently more or less akimbo
with her wide Leghorn hat flapping down and hiding her
face one moment and blowing straight up against her forehead
the next and making its revealment of fresh young
beauty; with all her pretty girlish airs and graces in full

play, and that sweet ignorance of care and that atmosphere
of innocence and purity all about her that belong to her
gracious time of life, indeed she was a vision to warm the
coldest heart and bless and cheer the saddest.

Willful, generous, forgiving, imperious, affectionate, improvident,
bewitching, in short—was Laura at this period.
Could she have remained there, this history would not need
to be written. But Laura had grown to be almost a woman
in these few years, to the end of which we have now come—
years which had seen Judge Hawkins pass through so many
trials.

When the judge's first bankruptcy came upon him, a
homely human angel intruded upon him with an offer of
$1,500 for the Tennessee Land. Mrs. Hawkins said take it.
It was a grievous temptation, but the judge withstood it.
He said the land was for the children—he could not rob them
of their future millions for so paltry a sum. When the
second blight fell upon him, another angel appeared and
offered $3,000 for the land. He was in such deep distress
that he allowed his wife to persuade him to let the papers be
drawn; but when his children came into his presence in their
poor apparel, he felt like a traitor and refused to sign.

But now he was down again, and deeper in the mire than
ever. He paced the floor all day, he scarcely slept at night.
He blushed even to acknowledge it to himself, but treason
was in his mind—he was meditating, at last, the sale of the
land. Mrs. Hawkins stepped into the room. He had not
spoken a word, but he felt as guilty as if she had caught him
in some shameful act. She said:

“Si, I do not know what we are going to do. The children
are not fit to be seen, their clothes are in such a state.
But there's something more serious still.—There is scarcely
a bite in the house to eat.”

“Why, Nancy, go to Johnson ——.”

“Johnson indeed! You took that man's part when he
hadn't a friend in the world, and you built him up and made
him rich. And here's the result of it: He lives in our fine

[ILLUSTRATION]

READY TO SELL.

[Description: 499EAF. Page 065. In-line image of a woman weeping in the corner as her husband looks at her inside a cabin.] house, and we live in his miserable log cabin. He has hinted
to our children that he would rather they wouldn't come
about his yard to play with his children,—which I can bear,
and bear easy enough, for they're not a sort we want to associate
with much—but what I can't bear with any quietness
at all, is his telling Franky our bill was running pretty high
this morning when I sent him for some meal—and that was
all he said, too—didn't give him the meal—turned off and
went to talking with the Hargrave girls about some stuff they
wanted to cheapen.”

“Nancy, this is astounding!”

“And so it is, I warrant you. I've kept still, Si, as long
as ever I could. Things have been getting worse and worse,
and worse and worse, every single day; I don't go out of
the house, I feel so down; but you had trouble enough, and
I wouldn't say a word—and I wouldn't say a word now, only
things have got so bad that I don't know what to do, nor
where to turn.” And she gave way and put her face in her
hands and cried.

“Poor child, don't grieve so. I never thought that of
Johnson. I am clear at my wit's end. I don't know what
in the world to do. Now if somebody would come along
and offer $3,000—Oh, if somebody only would come along

and offer $3,000 for that Tennessee Land——”

“You'd sell it, Si?” said Mrs. Hawkins excitedly.

“Try me!”

Mrs. Hawkins was out of the room in a moment. Within
a minute she was back again with a business-looking stranger,
whom she seated, and then she took her leave again. Hawkins
said to himself, “How can a man ever lose faith?
When the blackest hour comes, Providence always comes
with it—ah, this is the very timeliest help that ever poor
harried devil had; if this blessed man offers but a thousand
I'll embrace him like a brother!”

The stranger said:

“I am aware that you own 75,000 acres of land in East
Tennessee, and without sacrificing your time, I will come to
the point at once. I am agent of an iron manufacturing
company, and they empower me to offer you ten thousand
dollars for that land.”

Hawkins's heart bounded within him. His whole frame
was racked and wrenched with fettered hurrahs. His first
impulse was to shout—“Done! and God bless the iron company,
too!”

But a something flitted through his mind, and his opened
lips uttered nothing. The enthusiasm faded away from his
eyes, and the look of a man who is thinking took its place.
Presently, in a hesitating, undecided way, he said:

“Well, I—it don't seem quite enough. That—that is a
very valuable property—very valuable. It's brim full of iron
ore, sir—brim full of it! And copper, coal,—everything—
everything you can think of! Now, I'll tell you what I'll
do. I'll reserve everything except the iron, and I'll sell
them the iron property for $15,000 cash, I to go in with
them and own an undivided interest of one-half the concern,
—or the stock, as you may say. I'm out of business, and
I'd just as soon help run the thing as not. Now how does
that strike you?”

“Well, I am only an agent of these people, who are friends

of mine, and I am not even paid for my services. To tell
you the truth, I have tried to persuade them not to go into
the thing; and I have come square out with their offer,
without throwing out any feelers—and I did it in the hope
that you would refuse. A man pretty much always refuses
another man's first offer, no matter what it is. But I have
performed my duty, and will take pleasure in telling them
what you say.”

He was about to rise. Hawkins said,

“Wait a bit.”

Hawkins thought again. And the substance of his thought
was: “This is a deep man; this is a very deep man; I don't
like his candor; your ostentatiously candid business man's a
deep fox—always a deep fox; this man's that iron company
himself—that's what he is; he wants that property, too; I
am not so blind but I can see that; he don't want the company
to go into this thing—O, that's very good; yes, that's
very good indeed—stuff! he'll be back here to-morrow, sure,
and take my offer; take it? I'll risk anything he is suffering
to take it now; here—I must mind what I'm about. What
has started this sudden excitement about iron? I wonder
what is in the wind? just as sure as I'm alive this moment,
there's something tremendous stirring in iron speculation”
[here Hawkins got up and began to pace the floor with excited
eyes and with gesturing hands]—“something enormous
going on in iron, without the shadow of a doubt, and here I
sit mousing in the dark and never knowing anything about
it; great heaven, what an escape I've made! this underhanded
mercenary creature might have taken me up—and ruined me!
but I have escaped, and I warrant me I'll not put my foot
into—

He stopped and turned toward the stranger, saying:

“I have made you a proposition,—you have not accepted
it, and I desire that you will consider that I have made none.
At the same time my conscience will not allow me to—.
Please alter the figures I named to thirty thousand dollars, if

[ILLUSTRATION]

STOCK RISING.

[Description: 499EAF. Page 068. In-line image of two men conversing, one is wearing a suit, while the other is stretching out his suspenders.] you will, and let the proposition go to the company—I will
stick to it if it breaks my heart!”

The stranger looked amused, and there was a pretty well
defined touch of surprise in his expression, too, but Hawkins
never noticed it. Indeed he scarcely noticed anything or
knew what he was about. The man left; Hawkins flung
himself into a chair; thought a few moments, then glanced
around, looked frightened, sprang to the door——

“Too late—too late! He's gone! Fool that I am!—
always a fool! Thirty thousand—ass that I am! Oh, why
didn't I say fifty thousand!”

He plunged his hands into his hair and leaned his elbows
on his knees, and fell to rocking himself back and forth in
anguish. Mrs. Hawkins sprang in, beaming:

“Well, Si?”

“Oh, con-found the con-founded—con-found it, Nancy.
I've gone and done it, now!”

“Done what, Si, for mercy's sake!”

“Done everything! Ruined everything!”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me! Don't keep a body in such
suspense. Didn't he buy, after all? Didn't he make an
offer?”

“Offer? He offered $10,000 for our land, and——”

“Thank the good providence from the very bottom of my
heart of hearts! What sort of ruin do you call that, Si!”

“Nancy, do you suppose I listened to such a preposterous
proposition? No! Thank fortune I'm not a simpleton! I
saw through the pretty scheme in a second. It's a vast iron
speculation!—millions upon millions in it! But fool as I
am I told him he could have half the iron property for thirty
thousand—and if I only had him back here he couldn't
touch it for a cent less than a quarter of a million!”

Mrs. Hawkins looked up white and despairing:

“You threw away this chance, you let this man go, and
we in this awful trouble? You don't mean it, you can't
mean it!”

“Throw it away? Catch me at it! Why woman, do you
suppose that man don't know what he is about? Bless you,
he'll be back fast enough to-morrow.”

“Never, never, never. He never will come back. I don't
know what is to become of us. I don't know what in the
world is to become of us.”

A shade of uneasiness came into Hawkins's face. He
said:

“Why, Nancy, you—you can't believe what you are
saying.”

“Believe it, indeed? I know it, Si. And I know that we
haven't a cent in the world, and we've sent ten thousand
dollars a-begging.”

“Nancy, you frighten me. Now could that man—is it
possible that I—hanged if I don't believe I have missed a
chance! Don't grieve, Nancy, don't grieve. I'll go right
after him. I'll take—I'll take—what a fool I am!—I'll take
anything he'll give!”

The next instant he left the house on a run. But the man

was no longer in the town. Nobody knew where he
belonged or whither he had gone. Hawkins came slowly
back, watching wistfully but hopelessly for the stranger, and
lowering his price steadily with his sinking heart. And
when his foot finally pressed his own threshold, the value he
held the entire Tennessee property at was five hundred
dollars—two hundred down and the rest in three equal annual
payments, without interest.

There was a sad gathering at the Hawkins fireside the next
night. All the children were present but Clay. Mr. Hawkins
said:

“Washington, we seem to be hopelessly fallen, hopelessly
involved. I am ready to give up. I do not know where to
turn—I never have been down so low before, I never have
seen things so dismal. There are many mouths to feed;
Clay is at work; we must lose you, also, for a little while,
my boy. But it will not be long—the Tennessee land——”

He stopped, and was conscious of a blush. There was
silence for a moment, and then Washington—now a lank,
dreamy-eyed stripling between twenty-two and twenty-three
years of age—said:

“If Col. Sellers would come for me, I would go and stay
with him a while, till the Tennessee land is sold. He has
often wanted me to come, ever since he moved to Hawkeye.”

“I'm afraid he can't well come for you, Washington.
From what I can hear—not from him of course, but from
others—he is not far from as bad off as we are—and his family
is as large, too. He might find something for you to do,
maybe, but you'd better try to get to him yourself, Washington—it's
only thirty miles.”

“But how can I, father? There's no stage or anything.”

“And if there were, stages require money. A stage goes
from Swansea, five miles from here. But it would be cheaper
to walk.”

“Father, they must know you there, and no doubt they

would credit you in a moment, for a little stage ride like
that. Couldn't you write and ask them?”

“Couldn't you, Washington—seeing it's you that wants
the ride? And what do you think you'll do, Washington,
when you get to Hawkeye? Finish your invention for
making window-glass opaque?”

“No, sir, I have given that up. I almost knew I could do
it, but it was so tedious and troublesome I quit it.”

“I was afraid of it, my boy. Then I suppose you'll finish
your plan of coloring hen's eggs by feeding a peculiar diet
to the hen?”

“No, sir. I believe I have found out the stuff that will
do it, but it kills the hen; so I have dropped that for the
present, though I can take it up again some day when I learn
how to manage the mixture better.”

“Well, what have you got on hand—anything?”

“Yes, sir, three or four things. I think they are all good
and can all be done, but they are tiresome, and besides they
require money. But as soon as the land is sold——”

“Emily, were you about to say something?” said Hawkins.

“Yes, sir. If you are willing, I will go to St. Louis.
That will make another mouth less to feed. Mrs. Buckner
has always wanted me to come.”

“But the money, child?”

“Why I think she would send it, if you would write her
—and I know she would wait for her pay till——”

“Come, Laura, let's hear from you, my girl.”

Emily and Laura were about the same age—between seventeen
and eighteen. Emily was fair and pretty, girlish and
diffident—blue eyes and light hair. Laura had a proud bearing
and a somewhat mature look; she had fine, clean-cut
features, her complexion was pure white and contrasted
vividly with her black hair and eyes; she was not what one
calls pretty—she was beautiful. She said:

“I will go to St. Louis, too, sir. I will find a way to get
there. I will make a way. And I will find a way to help

[ILLUSTRATION]

A FAMILY COUNCIL.

[Description: 499EAF. Page 072. In-line image of a family meeting at a table. All of the children are looking at the father who is seated in front of them.] myself along, and do what I can to help the rest, too.”

She spoke it like a princess. Mrs. Hawkins smiled proudly
and kissed her, saying in a tone of fond reproof:

“So one of my girls is going to turn out and work for her
living! It's like your pluck and spirit, child, but we will
hope that we haven't got quite down to that, yet.”

The girl's eyes beamed affection under her mother's caress.
Then she straightened up, folded her white hands in her lap
and became a splendid ice-berg. Clay's dog put up his
brown nose for a little attention, and got it. He retired
under the table with an apologetic yelp, which did not affect
the iceberg.

Judge Hawkins had written and asked Clay to return home
and consult with him upon family affairs. He arrived the
evening after this conversation, and the whole household
gave him a rapturous welcome. He brought sadly needed
help with him, consisting of the savings of a year and a half
of work—nearly two hundred dollars in money.

It was a ray of sunshine which (to this easy household) was
the earnest of a clearing sky.

Bright and early in the morning the family were astir, and
all were busy preparing Washington for his journey—at least
all but Washington himself, who sat apart, steeped in a reverie.
When the time for his departure came, it was easy to
see how fondly all loved him and how hard it was to let him
go, notwithstanding they had often seen him go before, in his
St. Louis schooling days. In the most matter-of-course way
they had borne the burden of getting him ready for his trip,
never seeming to think of his helping in the matter; in the
same matter-of-course way Clay had hired a horse and cart;
and now that the good-byes were ended he bundled Washington's
baggage in and drove away with the exile.

At Swansea Clay paid his stage fare, stowed him away in
the vehicle, and saw him off. Then he returned home and
reported progress, like a committee of the whole.

Clay remained at home several days. He held many consultations
with his mother upon the financial condition of
the family, and talked once with his father upon the same
subject, but only once. He found a change in that quarter
which was distressing; years of fluctuating fortune had done
their work; each reverse had weakened the father's spirit
and impaired his energies; his last misfortune seemed to
have left hope and ambition dead within him; he had no
projects, formed no plans—evidently he was a vanquished
man. He looked worn and tired. He inquired into Clay's
affairs and prospects, and when he found that Clay was doing
pretty well and was likely to do still better, it was plain that
he resigned himself with easy facility to look to the son for
a support; and he said, “Keep yourself informed of poor
Washington's condition and movements, and help him along
all you can, Clay.”

The younger children, also, seemed relieved of all fears
and distresses, and very ready and willing to look to Clay for
a livelihood. Within three days a general tranquility and
satisfaction reigned in the household. Clay's hundred and

[ILLUSTRATION] [Description: 499EAF. Page 074. Tail-piece image of a small house with a picket fence in the front yard.] eighty or ninety dollars had worked a wonder. The family
were as contented, now, and as free from care as they could
have been with a fortune. It was well that Mrs. Hawkins
held the purse—otherwise the treasure would have lasted but
a very little while.

It took but a trifle to pay Hawkins's outstanding obligations,
for he had always had a horror of debt.

When Clay bade his home good-bye and set out to return
to the field of his labors, he was conscious that henceforth he
was to have his father's family on his hands as pensioners;
but he did not allow himself to chafe at the thought, for he
reasoned that his father had dealt by him with a free hand
and a loving one all his life, and now that hard fortune had
broken his spirit it ought to be a pleasure, not a pain, to work
for him. The younger children were born and educated
dependents. They had never been taught to do anything
for themselves, and it did not seem to occur to them to make
an attempt now.

The girls would not have been permitted to work for a
living under any circumstances whatever. It was a southern
family, and of good blood; and for any person except Laura,
either within or without the household to have suggested
such an idea would have brought upon the suggester the suspicion
of being a lunatic.