The Bamber Fortune

On the last day of the old year Mrs. Bi mber entered her shop and served her ustomers abstractedly, for her mind was uÜ of trouble. 8he was the most cheerul tnd sprightly of little women, with right, keen, blue eyes, a ruddy bluom n her soit, wrinkled cheeks, and flaxen ïair arranged in stiff curls about her orehead ; but to-day the demand of a mail boy, in shrill tones, for a bottle of ïamber's Drops failed to produce the elight usually manifeeted by her under uch circumstances. Bamber's Drops wan the remedy of her late husband for .1 the ills flesh is heir to, and Mrs. Bamber believed in it firmly with the irdor of a sanguine nature and loving ïeart. The late Dr. Bamber's star had set in sadness and gloom bef ore an unsympathizing world had consented to take his panacea by the teaspoonful. As far as the will of one fragüe and very determined woman could make the world rescind its objecüons Mrs. Bamber had prepared herself for the battle. When the small boy had taken himself off with his purchase she leaned her elbow on the counter and sighed deeply. "To think of the Platts soming to this ! If Archibald was alive," instead of only his wile ! He knew a deal about law, poor dear, and needed to, what with imitators and spurious articles to injure the trade. I would sell out and give them every penny if I could find a purchaser, and it waen't all so sudden. Archibald was grateful to his dying broath, and I'm not ükely to forget that we owe everything to Dr. Platt. Dear, dear ! Five thousand dollars, or a foreclosed mortgage. I teil you it's pure spite in that Hiram Driggs ; he don't know how to behave himself yet as a rich man." Mrs. Bamber's gaze strayed anxiously about the place, as if searching for a way out of her difflculties. Did the clew actually lie in her grasp without her being aware of it ? The shop was very tiny, but exquisitely neat, and the variety of azticles for sale, which made it almost a museum, was arranged with a certain artistic peroeption of harmonious coloring. The late Dr. Bamber had been a chemist, and one side of the place waa still devoted to those medicines which a woman may dispense without being a licensed apothecary; but the rest of his stock had been removed across tho way to the new store, which was a grief to Mrs. Bamber's soul, and replaoed on her shelves with a few books, stationery, and gay worsteas. " Why should I not be the apothecary after Archibald ?" she had said to Dr. Platt, with an energetio nod of the boad. " Don't I know as much ae PeyÍOB Peyton was tho rival over the way. Dr. Platt, a rosy, good-natured gentleman, had made some soothing response oalculated to mollify feminine vanity, and suggested the stationery department as a fresh field of nsefulness. Mrs. Bamber's eyes rested on the volumes opposite, a package of Valentines in whioh the town indulged at the proper seasou, a jumping-jack daugling helplessly from a naü. Never by any chance did her gaee wander to the shop window. She went over to the other side and opened a showcase, which contained fat pin-cushions aad iinpossible penwipers, articles made by old ladios of the reduced-gontlewoman type and presented here for sale. "I believo that I would sell my own soul to raise the money and help them out of trouble," said Mre. Bamber, vehemently; and then she took up a pincushion as if in hopes it might turn to gold in her hand. " Pooh ! these things have lain here for years. What good are they ?" An aquarium occupied a place in the center of the shop - a crystal house where silky fibers of seaweed grew about mimic grottoes, and fish of metallic hues flashed through tho water. A guilty pang smote the little wonian at the sight of it. In all these years of hard work and lonely widowhood the aquarium was the only extravagance she had allowed herself, and often would she spend her time of rest gazing into the miüiature water-world. If she could now give the money it had coat to the Platt family ! A white gleam came softly through the window from the snowcovered streets; winter seemed to muffle the town of Stoneport in a mantle of süence, setting each household in a separate atmosphere of individuality. Üp on the hill, where genteel Stoneport dwelt in large, oldfashioned mansionst the music of sleighbells and merry voices was to be heard, but down here, on the main street, the af ternoon feil in quiet cold, deserted. by traffic as soon as the sun quitted the narrow thoroughfare. Miss Simmon s, the millmert peered from her window, and Mr. Peyton, the druggist oppoeite, polished his door-panes mechanicüliy with a bit of chamois leather. The harbor, now dark and wind-fretted, lapped up to Mrs. Bamber's very back door. Pirates might have landed and earried her off at midnight, if they had been disposed, although Mrs, Bamber was not daunted by fear of stich violent abduotion. In the old days piratical crews in rakish craft from the Spañish Müin had not been unknown in the waters of tliis very harbor, and Sconeport had been more intimately associated with the slavende than was good ior its reputation at a future date. Like so many towns on the coast of New England, prosperity kad ebbed away, the bud of promise been blighted by eome mysterieus fluotuation of commerce. There were those Tvho detectad a righteous Nemesis in the decny of Stoneport, and here it was left to crumble away in the sunshine, a mossgrown memory of the past. The shop-bell rang suddenly, and a girl ontered. " Oh, Mrs. Bamber !" shecried ; and, throwing her arms impulsively about the little woman, burst into teare. The girl was talier and larger than her compsnion, and yet clung to her. " Has anything more happened ?" inquired Mrs. Bamber, alarmed. "Now don't give way, my dear." " I can 't help it," sobbed the girl, excitedly. " Mr. Driggs has been to see me again. He carne to the school-room, with all the children staring, and told me he would not foreciose on the Platt property if I -would marry him. Oh, what a cruel, cruel torgain !" " Yon never promised - " began Mrs. Bamber, breathlessly. The girl drew herself up. "I said no." Charlotte Eaton was very attractive, certainly, eveñ in her anger, with flushed cheeks and tearful eyes. A little Bcarlet hood covered her golden hair and gave her something of childish beauty. At this moment there was a stir in the deserted Street ; people appeared like magie. A sleigh, curved Uko a shell, and lined with robes of fleecy-'white fur, drawn by spirited blak horses in ing ñarness, ana anven Dy a soiemn negro coachman in livery, slowly passed. Tho solé occupant was a small man wrapped in sable, with a keen, narrow face, who gazed down on the commotion his splendor excited with irrepressible exultation. This man was Hiram Driggs,' and to show liimself ostentatiously to his world of Stoneport was a pleasure which had not yet palled on the rich man. " His mother learned her trade when I did," said Miss Simmons, the milliner, "I am suré nobody thought her son would come to owning everything." The eider Driggs had, indeed, worked in secret many yeai-s, directing little I rills of wealth, gieaned from any humble source, to his own dingy warehouse. Miserly and reticent in the I treme, Stoneport had not divined his riches until the son, now 45 years old, suddenly emerged írora the bondage in which he had been held by his stern parent while living to assume the role of millionaire. Henee the astonishment of the town; henee Hiram's love of display. In Mrs. Bamber's shop the two women grew ngid as the sleigh pa?sed, the widow with indignation, and the young sohoolmistress with a curious admixture of envy and repulsión. Had she not been urged, nay, almost threatened in all that she held dearest- her plighted troth with Charley Platt - to share the sleigh with its fleecy robes? Might Bhe not save the Platt homestead, indeed, by paying this very price of marrying Hiram Driggs ? Mrs. Bamber took her hands. " Charlotte, let ns go to this man and I beg him to release them," she &aid, earnestly. "You mtist have influence with him." "I am af raid to go," said Charlotte. " Af raid ! When you are to be Charley's wife ? We must fight for hha, my dear." These two champions saw the sins of Mr. Driggs in the light of intense partisanship. He was a mean man, and the power of money would naturally mako him tyrannical ; moreover, he had se lected Charlotte Eaton to f all in love with as the sweetest and most blooming young lady in Stoneport. Hiram Driggs could certainty afford to please himself at last! TJnversed in the delicate phases oi romance, he could by no means win a smüe from Charlotte, and discovered in wrath and consternation that Charley Platt was his rival. He would foreclose and take possession of the house. Stoneport saw in this measure only the grasping tendencies of the man who wished to establish a home, while the victims detected revenge. Probably both factions were wroDg. Mrs. Bamber, with tremb.ling lotte by her side, presented herself before the tyrant. He still dwelt in the wing of the warehouse where his father had been contented to abide. Perhaps he was chagrined to be found in the small parlor, which he had furnished with yellow satin curtains and sofas, when he wonld so soon take possession of the house on the hill. The miseion was scarcely a successful ote, althotigh Mrs. Bamber made herself spokeswoman on the occasion with all pospible energy. She even offered up her shop, since Dr. Platl had given it originally, and was laughed at for her pains. Mr. Hiram Driggs was not a pleasant man to aak for favors, especially when he carne quite close to Charlotte and said, harshly : " You know iny terins." Af ter that Mrs. Bamber drewher companion away without another word. "He is ábrate," said the little woman, tingling with mortiflcation at the remembrance of the coarse laugh which had greeted her proposal of yielding up her alL They met a young man at the corner of the street. "Take care of her," said Mrs. Bamber, transferring Charlotte to his charge. " My dear Mrs. Bamber, I do not need the injunction,' said Charley Platt in a voice he strove to render steady and cheerful as he drew the girl's hand through his arm with an air of tender proteetion. Charlotte and Mrs. Bamber looked at each other meaningly ; then the latter turned away with a little pang at her heart. These two were made for each other, handsome Charley and pale, frightened Charlotte ; but how would it be with them if evil in the shape of Hiram Driggs stepped between? When she roached her own door Mrs. Bamber was not only disturbed and distressed, as she had been all day, but thoroughly out of temper. She would have liked to set the world to rights, and had only suöceeded in ruffling her own amour propre in the interview with a brusque, rude millionaire. Perhaps it was this mood that made her shake her head at the three pictures in her window. "Oh, there you arel Ionlywishl could recover the sum your frames oost me. Old masters, foreooth!" The pictures were small and dark, as if some shadow obscured their original meaning, even as brambles and moss might have overgrown the artist's grave. The sun shot a golden arrow in the window as Mrs. Bamber paused, and iliuminated the dim canvas. Perbaps the radiftnce of revelation reached her soul in that glimpse, ho wever faintly, the gleam of an angel's wing cleaving the sky, the wonder of the Virgin's upturned face; but tha sunset faded, and Mrs. Bamber was left to sorrowful ccntemptation of the garish frames. ' ' Some papist trash," she soliloquized. " Whatever possessed metoget 'em new frames? I shall never see the money back, 111 be bound ! I'm sure I would be thankful to get $25 apiece, allowingr &2ü for tho frames ; and I suppose the pictures are worth $6, if they amount to anything. Nobody will give that, though." A year before the shop-bell had brought Mrs. Bamber from her supper to the contemplation of a thin, cadaverous stranger of the brigand type, wrapped in a cloak, and with a broad hat drawn over his brows. The man was faint with cold, and coughed dolofully; he had no money and no friends. Mrs. Bamber was not the person to send away such a waif empty-handed. She placed him before the flre in her own tiny kitchen, and made Nanny, her smail hand-maiden, serve him with hot tea ; she wrote a note to the clergyman, who dispensed charity, to flnda lodging; and she flnally dispatohed him with a bottle of Bamber's Drops as a gift. The stranger lingered in the garret furnished him, reserved, a trifle sinister and only known to smile when Mrs. Bamber preached to him in a language which he but imperfectly understood. There carne a day in rude March, when so many leaves drop from the tree of life, tbat the foreigner sent for Mrs. Bamber, bequeathing to her solemnly three small pictures set in carved wood. "They are worth their weight in gold," he had whispered, and turned liis inscrutable face - in which there iingered a triumph to the end - to the walL Mrs. Bamber had shed a few tears, and carried her gifts home cautiously, as if she held some explosiva projeotile. The clergynian surveyed the pietures through his spectacles, and chilled the possessor's enthusiasni somewhat by expressing a preferenoe for engravmgs. He recominended replacing the quaint olivewood frames with new ones and expoeing them for sale in the window. Clergymen are not always the best financia! advisers. Mis. Bamber's face grew very long when she saw the framer's bill. Stoneport was Bkeptieal of these daubs; besides, the widow asked a fabulous price for them. Stoneport knew a chromo and a modern landscape f uil of lively coloring, but such dismul things were not to its taste. The last night of Ihe year closed in sadly. Mrs. Bamber sat long beside tho morning-glory stove in the parlor back of the shop, sipping her tea, in which beverage alone lay consolation. A portrait of Dr. Bamber, representing him as a somewhat wall-eyed gentleman, hung above her, and opposite a cabinet displayed, among other relies, several skulls prepared by the lamented Arcbibald. Her tboughts went back to a dreary day on an emigrant wharf. when siie landed with her husband, who had been injured by a fall on the voyage. The sense of desolate homesickness again swept over her now, twelve years later, and a gentleman with a good-humored, rosy face spoke to her kindly. Oould she ever forget that thifl Samaritan was Dr. Platt, of Stoneport, now gone to his reward ? He had asked few questions, but had brought the friendles chemist to his own town and established him in business. No one knew the cost of it all. It was not the good physician's way to make his charity a burden. Mrs. Bamber wiped her eyes as she sipped her tea by the stove and the night closed in. Up on the hill the old Platt homestead wa3 shrouded in gloom, and revealed only one dim light in the dining-room. It was a brick house, with white pillars supporting a projecting roof, shaded in summer by Lu-ge trees, and seemed in the clear, crisp evening surrounded by tender memories. Now it was all to be swept away, for the docter's purse had been ever open, and hehad left wife and son in straitened circumstances. The lovei-s stood in the window, hand claeped in hand, as if claimiug a silent mutual support, while Mrs. Platt, a stout lady with a querulous mouth, wañdered from room to room gazing at her precious household gods. "EvenJittle Mrs. Bamber owns the roof over her head, and all owing to the doctor," sobbed the poor lady, taking up a favorito tea-cup with loving touch. The young son set kis teach and drew a long breath. Charlotte could only lean her l-row against the eool pane. If they knew all ! The night brought sorrow, but the easuing day was only anticipated with dread. Hiram Driggs Made himself comfortable on the yellow-eatin couch of his little parlor, with a decanter of wiue at his elbow and a cigar. lf conscience is a matter of education, he should have been wholly at ease, but there had been an expression in Charlotte Eaton's eyes as she departed that day which pricked him smartly even in remembrance. Thia look he might never forget. The wonderful, baekward glance of the Cenci haunts a world. Lounging on the yellow sofa, he reasoned himself out of these faBcies. He would gain at a cheap rate a fine home. Dr. Platt was a reckless spendtbrift in his day, and his creditors need not be blamed for that. As for Charlotte, he might make terms with that proud young lady yet. Altogetber the evening passed not unpleasantly for him in planning improvements on his newroperty. New Year's day dawned on Stoneport, I bringiDg joy to niany hearts and striking like a knell on other Iívps that f ound their burden greater than could be borne. All nature smiled beneath a cloudless sky; the snow was rose-flushed on the slope, and shrubbery gJistened as if powdered with diamond-dust ; the harbor, where two schooners rode at anchor, was a df ep blue. Stoijeport did not keep the holiday especially, although it stül adhered to the Puritan belief that New Year's day should be sanctifled rather than CathoLic Christmas. On the hill the young ladies appef red in pretty dresses of blue and pink, and there were cake and wine on the side-boards, should the young men cali. The shops were open. At 10 o'clock a man passed along the main street, paused before Mrs. Bamber's show-window, shaded his eyes a moment, and walked on. Mrs. Bamber observed him with the habitual curiosity of the resident of a small place. He was an insigniflcant person in a gray coa with red whiskers and a round face. That was all. Pale and anxious ai'ter a sleepless night, she stood with her eyes fixed apprehensively on the clock. It could not be long before Hiram Driggs would do his worst. The skop-bell rang sharply. " What do you ask for your pictures, ma'am?" "Five thousand dollars," muttered Mrs. Bamber, abstractedly, still staring at the clock. Whafc was that? The insignificant stranger in the gray coat hadreached for the pictures, and was unceremoniously striking off the splendid gilt frames with his stout caiie. "Mercy! Stopl What are you doing?" Mrs. Bamber ran mmbly to his side and arrested his hand. "I don't want these frams," said the GranQGX, oontomptnotiolv. ' ' Yoti Bot your own price,-and I will give you 85,000." Mrs. Bamber sank down on a stool in speechless astonishment. How unreal everything had become - the snowy street, the shop, the man in 'a gray coat! Surely Nanny would soon tap on her bedroom door and teil her it was time to get up. Then, by a sudden and not unnatural transition of awakening, she became suspicious and vigilan t. Her i visitor wasted no superfluous words ; his brortd, raddy face betrayed not a trace of emotion as he produced a crisp bit of paper, dipped a pen into Mrs. Bamber's ink, and began to write. " lf you are not cheating me, let me see the money," interposed Mrs. Bamber, sharply. He wiped the pen, restored it to a silver sheath in his pocket, and took up the draft. " Very good," was his sole comment, and he went out. Mrs. Bamber laughed hysterically. Would he ever return ? Perhaps he was a maniflc. It seemed an bour before he returned and counted out a pile of broad, shining gold pieces that made a ploasant clinking music as they feil in a glittering heap- $5,000 ! Still phlegmatic, and apparently unmoved, the purchaser folded the pictures beneath his ampie coat and returned to the Stoneport; Hotel, where he was the solitary guest. Once in his chamber his reserve melted ; he beamed in broad smiles, and rubbed his hands with a subdued ohuckle of triumph. "Dirt cheap I" he said to hiinself, and feil to studying the dim canvsis with the aspect of a connoisseur. He tiien wrote the following letter : To the Kight Uonorable the Earl of H : My Lobd : I have the eatiefaotion of informing you that I have found the three picturee, af ter two years' search in the States. Thoy wero in the posseasiou of au igiiorant woroan, keeping 8hop in an obBcure town of the New Eogland ooast, who eold them tomeior L1.000. The piotureB are undoubtedly the missing origínala of Eaffaelle Sanzio, aud will complete your Lordsbip's collection. I traoked the Italian, Luigi Garnole, to the haunts of bis race in the city of New York, and was obliged lo proceed with greater caution froin the fact that he appeare to have been actnated by revenge in the theft of the pietnres. Your Lordship will be better able to determine than I am whother this revenge was a loyal attachment to the palace of bis maaier, the Duke, and conseqaent rage at the dispersión of its works of art to foreign lands. or a more strictly personal motive. He mide no effort here to sell the pictures aa origináis to dealers or private individúale, and after a quarrel írith some of his oountrymen he dieappeared, in company with another Italian. Puruuit led me acroes the plaius to the Pacific, where I found the second Italian, a waudering musician, only to learn that he had parted with Lu;gi Carnole híx months beforn in the city of New Haven. In the latter placs he had h'-ed in poverty and bad health, end I was able to follow his Bteps to my present locality, where he died. I return to England by the" next mail. I have the honor to subscribe myself, Your Lordship's most humble and obedient servant, Aloekno Smith. Mrs. Platt sat in her best parlor, her eyes swollen with weeping, and the curtains drawn to exclude the curious glanoes of Stoneport. 8he held fast the hands of her son and Charlotte Eaton, and trembled at the stroke of the olock. The young people gazed sadly at eaoh other across the black figure of the mother, who was attired as if for a funeral. Would Hiram Driggs relent, and give them more time ? Was it not probable that he would appear and claim all ? The young man could ouly chafe at his own helplessness in the emèrgency and inability to protect his own. The sound of flying feet made them all listen. Mrs. Bamber, breathless and without a bonnet, rushed into the parlor and cast a leather purse down in Mrs. Platt's lap. " Oq, you needn't count it 1 I've done so a dozen times already. Here's $5,000, and the house is saved." Between laughter and tears she explained her unexpeoted wealth, and restored it to tho wife of her benefactor of years ago. Then a shadow crossed her face, just dimming its brigï.itness for a moment. Much eould have been done to advance the interests of Bamber's Drops, and place the remedy properly before an enlightened public, with the aid of this money, She plucked Oharley's sleeve in the midst of the thanks which overpowered all coheient speech, andsaid, tremulously : " You will not forget the Drope when you receive your diploma, will you, Charley?" "Neither the Drops nor my debfc," returned Oharley, in an unsteady voice. ïhen Mrs. Bamber, through a mist of tearn, saw Charlotte Eaton riee, tall and proud, and take the purse from Mrs. Platt ; for Hiram Driggs stood on the threshold. Thus a very humble little women placed her gift on the altar of the New