True Riches; Or, Wealth Without WingsArthur, T. S. (Timothy Shay)
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True Riches; Or, Wealth Without Wings
Arthur, T. S. (Timothy Shay)
Adopted children -- Fiction; Christian life -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Honesty -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction
"Perhaps I do," was answered. "And, as it seems unpleasant to you, I
will say no more. I did not mean, when I called, to speak just as I
have done. But, as the words have been uttered, I beg you to weigh
them well, and to believe that they have a meaning. Good morning."
Jasper suppressed the utterance of the word "stay," which arose to his
lips, and returned the bow of Mr. Melleville, who left without further
remark.
"What can this mean?" Thus mused Leonard Jasper, when alone. "Can this
scoundrel, Martin, have dropped a hint of the truth?" A slight shiver
went through his nerves. "Something is wrong. There is suspicion in
the thought of Melleville. I didn't look for trouble in this quarter."
To his own unpleasant reflections we will leave the merchant, and
return to Edward Claire and his true-minded, loving-hearted wife.
For a week or two after the former entered upon his new duties
as assistant clerk in a night-auction, he experienced no serious
inconvenience from his more prolonged labours, although it did not
escape the watchful eyes of his wife that his complexion was losing
its freshness, and that his appetite was far from being so good as
before. After this, he began to suffer oppressive weariness, that
made the evening's toil a daily increasing burden. Then succeeded a
feverish state, accompanied by pains in the head, back, and through
the breast. Edith remonstrated, even with tears; but still Claire went
nightly to his task, though each successive evening found him with
less and less ability for its performance.
At last, he came home from the store of Mr. Melleville, at the usual
tea-time, feeling so unwell that he was forced to lie down. He had no
appetite for supper, and merely sipped part of a cup of tea brought to
him by his wife as he still reclined upon the bed.
"Don't get up," said Edith, seeing her husband, after he had lain for
some time, about to rise.
"I can't lie here any longer; it's nearly seven o'clock now."
"You're not going out to-night!"
"O yes; I must be at the store. There is no one to take my place, and
the sales will begin by the time I can get there."
"But you are too sick to go out, Edward."
"I feel much better than I did, Edith. This little rest has refreshed
me a great deal."
"No--no, Edward! You must not go away," said his wife in a distressed
voice. "You are sick now, and the extra exertion of an evening may
throw you into a serious illness."
"I feel a great deal better, dear," urged Claire. "But, sick or well,
I must be there to-night, for the sale cannot go on without me. If I
do not feel better to-morrow, I will ask Mr. F---- to get some one,
temporarily, in my place."
Still Edith opposed, but in vain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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