University of Virginia Library

10. X.
REUBEN'S MISFORTUNE.

Before resorting to public measures for the recovery of
the stolen property, it was deemed expedient to acquaint
their friends with their loss in a private way. The next
day, accordingly, they went to pay Reuben a visit. It
was a very different meeting from that which took place a
few mornings before. The returned soldier had gained in
health, but not in spirits. The rapture of reaching home
once more, the flush of hope and happiness, had passed
away with the visitors who had flocked to offer their
congratulations. He had had time to reflect: he had
reached home, indeed; but now every moment reminded
him how soon that home was to be taken from him. He
looked at his wife and children, and clenched his teeth
hard to stifle the emotions that arose at the thought of
their future. The sweet serenity, the faith and patience
and cheerfulness, which never ceased to illumine Sophronia's
face as she moved about the house, pursuing her
daily tasks, and tenderly waiting upon him, deepened at
once his love and his solicitude. He was watching her thus
when the Ducklows entered with countenances mournful
as the grave.

“How are you gittin' along, Reuben?” said Ducklow,
while his wife murmured a solemn “good morning” to
Sophronia.

“I am doing well enough. Don't be at all concerned
about me! It a'n't pleasant to lie here, and feel it may
be months, months, before I 'm able to be about my business;
but I would n't mind it, — I could stand it first-rate,
— I could stand anything, anything, but to see her working

her life out for me and the children! To no purpose,
either; that 's the worst of it. We shall have to lose this
place, spite of fate!”

“O Reuben!” said Sophronia, hastening to him, and
laying her soothing hands upon his hot forehead; “why
won't you stop thinking about that? Do try to have more
faith! We shall be taken care of, I 'm sure!”

“If I had three thousand dollars, — yes, or even two, —
then I 'd have faith!” said Reuben. “Miss Beswick has
proposed to send a subscription-paper around town for us;
but I 'd rather die than have it done. Besides, nothing
near that amount could be raised, I 'm confident. You
need n't groan so, Pa Ducklow, for I ain't hinting at you.
I don't expect you to help me out of my trouble. If you
had felt called upon to do it, you 'd have done it before
now; and I don't ask, I don't beg of any man!” added
the soldier, proudly.

“That 's right; I like yer sperit!” said the miserable
Ducklow. “But I was sighin' to think of something, —
something you have n't known anything about, Reuben.”

“Yes, Reuben, we should have helped you,” said Mrs.
Ducklow, “and did, did take steps towards it —”

“In fact,” resumed Ducklow, “you 've met with a great
misfortin', Reuben. Unbeknown to yourself, you 've met
with a great misfortin'! Yer Ma Ducklow knows.”

“Yes, Reuben, the very day you come home, your Pa
Ducklow made an investment for your benefit. We did n't
mention it, — you know I would n't own up to it, though
I did n't exactly say the contrary, the morning we was
over here —”

“Because,” said Ducklow, as she faltered, “we wanted
to surprise you; we was keepin' it a secret till the right
time, then we was goin' to make it a pleasant surprise to
ye.”

“What in the name of common sense are you talking
about?” cried Reuben, looking from one to the other of
the wretched, prevaricating pair.

“Cowpon bonds!” groaned Ducklow. “Three thousan'-dollar
cowpon bonds! The money had been lent, but I
wanted to make a good investment for you, and I thought
there was nothin' so good as Gov'ments —”

“That 's all right,” said Reuben. “Only, if you had
money to invest for my benefit, I should have preferred
to pay off the mortgage the first thing.”

“Sartin! sartin!” said Ducklow; “and you could have
turned the bonds right in, if you had so chosen, like so much
cash. Or you could have drawed your interest on the
bonds in gold, and paid the interest on your mortgage in
currency, and made so much, as I ruther thought you
would.”

“But the bonds?” eagerly demanded Reuben, with
trembling hopes, just as Miss Beswick, with her shawl over
her head, entered the room.

“We was just telling about our loss, Reuben's loss,”
said Mrs. Ducklow, in a manner which betrayed no little
anxiety to conciliate that terrible woman.

“Very well! don't let me interrupt.” And Miss Beswick,
slipping the shawl from her head, sat down.

Her presence, stiff and prim and sarcastic, did not tend
in the least to relieve Mr. Ducklow from the natural embarrassment
he felt in giving his version of Reuben's loss.
However, assisted occasionally by a judicious remark
thrown in by Mrs. Ducklow, he succeeded in telling a sufficiently
plausible and candid-seeming story.