Owen's Fortune; Or, "Durable Riches"

Clarice did not reply for a moment, as she watched her cousin eating his supper. "We must see what to-morrow brings," she said, at last; "go to bed now."

Mr. Hadleigh could find no direct evidence against Owen. The goods had vanished, certainly, but it was not at all clear who had taken them. He did not care to prosecute his own nephew, and he would not turn him adrift for his dead brother's sake. So things went on much as usual, though the boy knew he was only tolerated, and was carefully watched, whatever he did.

When Sunday came, Owen gladly went off to his kind friends. Mr. Netherclift had heard all about the accusation from David, and felt much for the orphan lad. Again he put the Gospel earnestly and faithfully before him; but he was a wise man; he would not hurry any soul, though he knew there must be a moment of decision, and he entreated the boy not to put it off. As to the present trial, he urged Owen to do his every-day work faithfully and well, as under the eye of God, and he felt sure that his uncle would in time be assured that he was not the culprit.

"It seems strange this should happen just now, when I want to do right. It is only this week that I have begun to read my Bible again. When I didn't read it nothing disagreeable happened."

"Ah, my boy, if you were older and more experienced, you would know why. When you were content to live just for this world alone, without a thought of God and eternal things, Satan left you alone. But the moment you begin to seek God, Satan does all he can to hinder and keep you back. No doubt he has stirred up some of his servants to work you this evil; but be sure of this, God will right you in good time."

A quiet, happy evening was spent, Owen feeling very grateful for sympathy, and being much cheered to see that the Netherclifts never for one moment doubted his honesty. But he went home early, saying he wished to be alone, and would not go to the mission-hall that night.

CHAPTER V.

SUNSHINE AND SHADE

CLARICE and Owen generally breakfasted together very early, some time before Mr. and Mrs. Hadleigh appeared. Clarice had spent an anxious night, partly on her own account, and partly being troubled about Owen, as Norris continued to speak against him whenever he could; so that she was quite startled to see her cousin come into the room with a calm, sunny face.

"What is the matter!" she exclaimed; "has father found out it was not you?"

"No; I wish he had."

"Then what makes you look so happy?"

"Clarice, I do believe the Lord Jesus has saved me, and made me His child."

They were simple words, but they told of a great change, and Clarice burst into tears.

"Why do you cry?" asked Owen, presently.

"Because I want the same; I see it has made you 'rich,' Owen."

"You can have it too, if you will. Only you must go to the Lord Jesus for it, as I did."

The rest of the breakfast passed almost in silence. Clarice could not speak, and it was not easy for Owen to tell of his new-found joy. They went down together to the shop, and the morning's work began. The boy's bright face was not unnoticed, though no one else asked him the reason of it.

A fortnight passed away, and Owen seemed no nearer being cleared. Norris was as disagreeable as ever, doing all he could to get the boy into trouble; but his unfailing truthfulness and integrity saved him from falling into the traps laid for him, and this angered Norris still more. Mrs. Hadleigh, too, continued as distant as ever, and was much annoyed to see the change in Clarice, which she attributed solely to her cousin's influence.

"I can't think what has taken the girl," she said to her husband one day; "your nephew has brought his religious notions here, and has turned her head. Such trouble as I've taken to keep her from all pious people, too, fearing they would fill her head with fancies. And here she is as religious as any of them. I might just as well have saved myself the trouble."

"Exactly so," said her husband, dryly.

"I do believe you will go the same way, James."

"Might do worse."

"And after all our toil to work up the business!"

"My dear, the business won't suffer."

Meanwhile, in the shop below, Norris had sent Owen on an errand to the stores underneath the ground; he had to go down through a trap door to the cellar, and not going quick enough to suit the young man, or out of spite, Norris give him a push, which, loaded as he was, made him lose his footing and fall heavily through the opening.

"What a stupid!" exclaimed the man; "he is no more fit for business than a calf."

"Norris!" said Clarice, coming hastily out of the counting-house, "I saw the whole affair. You pushed him down, and my father shall know."

"You make a mistake, Miss Hadleigh," he said, blandly; "he is the most useless boy we ever had on the premises."

One of the porters and Dawson had hastily descended after the boy, who was lifted up in their arms, groaning heavily.

Mr. Hadleigh came in at the moment, asking what had happened. Every one gave a different answer.

"He is severely injured," he said, as he bent over the boy. "David, run for Mr. Daly; ask him to come at once. Can you two carry the lad upstairs?"

When Mrs. Hadleigh had found out what had happened, she declared he ought to be sent at once to the hospital. But her husband said the boy reminded him more of his brother every day, and for that brother's sake he should be nursed in the house. The doctor's verdict settled everything; he said the patient must on no account be moved; the hip-bone was broken, and he must be kept perfectly quiet.

When the bone was set, and the boy somewhat more comfortable, though in great pain and weakness, Clarice crept softly into the room, and watched him for a moment with tears in her eyes. He looked so white and suffering; and to think it should happen through the carelessness and unkindness of another!

Presently Owen opened his eyes. "Is that you, Clarice?"

"Yes; how are you now?"

"Isn't it a good thing I was saved in time?" His voice was feeble, though the tone was glad.

"Saved in time?" questioned Clarice.

"Yes, I mean saved before this happened. You see, I could not have thought about these things while I was in such pain—at least, it would have made me feel worse. Now the pain is all outside; my heart is happy. Jesus comes and says to me, 'My peace I give unto you.'"

Clarice knelt down by the side of the bed, and softly stroked the boy's hair back from his forehead. He seemed to like the caressing motion, for he did not move till she said softly, "I know something of that peace, too, Owen, and it was through your lips the blessing came to me."

A sunny smile spread over the white face as he said, "It was worth all the pain to know that, Clarice. God has found us both now."

"Yes, I had been trying to help father to make his fortune; and you had come to Barmston wishing to make your fortune; but God has given us His riches."

"Would you mind reading to me a little? My head is so bad; I think it would comfort me, and give me something to think of while I am alone in the night."

Clarice was much touched to find that her young cousin expected no care or nursing during the night. It showed her how accustomed he was to be neglected, and put on one side in the house. But she said nothing, only opened Owen's Bible, and softly read the Psalm that so many, young and old, have rested their souls on in times of joy and sorrow: "The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want." Quietly and slowly, without any comment, she read the Psalm through, and then, seeing the boy was exhausted, went noiselessly out of the room to seek some refreshment for him.

As soon as the shop was closed Mr. Hadleigh came up himself to visit his nephew, and assure him that he would take all care of him, and that he was not to trouble about the accusation, for the more he watched him, the more he was convinced that he was innocent, though where the goods had gone to was a great mystery.

"David shall sit up with you to-night," he said, "and we will see about a better nurse in the morning."

Owen was much surprised at his uncle's tender manner, for he had always been too absorbed in business to speak kindly to any of his family. But though Owen did not know it, his influence was working unconsciously upon his uncle, and opening his eyes to see that other things are worth obtaining besides money.

The pain was very severe, and Owen felt thoroughly sore all over, for, beside the broken bone, he was considerably bruised and shaken. Clarice peeped in again before she went to bed, bringing a little plate of jelly to moisten his mouth during the night, and to see that everything was arranged as comfortably as might be. Presently David came up, and took a seat by the bedside. He looked gravely at the drawn, white face, as he asked anxiously, "Is the pain terribly bad?"

"QUIETLY AND SLOWLY … SHE READ THE PSALM THROUGH."—Page 50.

"Bad enough," said Owen, faintly.

"What a coward that Norris is!" said the boy, indignantly; "the master ought to turn him away."

"Does uncle know he did it?"

"I don't know. I saw Norris talking away to him in the soft, sweet manner he has; and no doubt he made out it was no fault of his. I should like to tell Mr. Hadleigh himself."

"You must not do that."

"Why not?"

"Because we must not carry accusations of one another about."

"But it is true that he did knock you down."

"Yes; and if uncle asked you to tell him, you might do so; but I am sure you ought not to offer to tell him."

"That's rather queer, isn't it? Mr. Hadleigh was not there, and he may think it was your fault after all."

"God was there. He saw it all, and He knows everything—even why Norris is so against me; and He will make it right."

But Owen could not go on talking; the pain was so severe, he could only just bear it by keeping perfectly quiet. An hour or two passed away slowly, when Owen was surprised to hear his uncle's voice at the door, calling softly, "David!"

The boy rose. "Yes, sir," he replied.

"Is Owen asleep?"

"No, sir, he can't sleep, the pain is so bad."

"Well, come with me a minute, and then you shall return to him."

The door was gently closed, and Owen heard no more, except a whispered consultation outside. Then he was left alone for some time.

A strange thing had happened. In the bustle and confusion of Owen's accident Mr. Hadleigh had been somewhat upset, and just as he was getting into bed he remembered that he had left his cash-box in the counting-house. Such a thing had never occurred before in all his business life, and he was a good deal dismayed when he thought of it. Throwing on a dressing-gown, and stepping softly for fear of disturbing Owen, he went downstairs. He carried no candle, for he knew just where he had left the box, and he feared a light might set fire to something. He had just reached the glass door leading into the shop, and was about to put his hand out to open it, when he observed a faint light in one corner, and a figure moving. For a moment he seemed paralysed, but gathering his wits together, he carefully watched for a moment or two, when he saw the muffled figure of a man reaching down canisters and boxes, carefully and gently, and abstracting part of their contents. Not much out of each, evidently, for the parcels he made up were small; but the basket on the floor held a good many of them. The man's face he could not see, nor could he at all make out the figure.

After watching him for a moment, he crept upstairs, and calling David out of Owen's room, sent him off by a back-door to the neighbouring police-station, while he again mounted guard at the glass door. It seemed a long time to Mr. Hadleigh as he stood watching the thief walking softly about the shop, helping himself here and there to tea, sugar, cloves and spices, dried fruit, and other goods. He felt sure it was one who knew the premises well, by the way he went about, laying his hands on exactly what he wanted. Who could it be? It was neither Owen nor David, that was clear, and Mr. Hadleigh felt quite relieved when David returned with two policemen, who did not speak a word, but looked through the glass door, as Mr. Hadleigh silently pointed out the thief to them.

As they turned the handle of the door, the slight click caused the thief to start, and when he saw the policemen he hastily extinguished his light, and flew across the shop. But the policemen rushed after him; there was a few moments' struggle in the dark, as the thief tried to reach a small window at the back, from which he had evidently entered; but the two powerful men held him down and secured him, while David got matches, and lighted a lamp.

"That was a pretty tidy catch," said one of the men; "caught in the very act of stealing. A pretty long sentence you'll get, my man."

Mr. Hadleigh drew nearer to look at the man as they were leading him away, and to his surprise and indignation, saw Norris!

"Is it possible!" he exclaimed. "What can have been your object?"

"Let me off this time, Mr. Hadleigh," he whined; "let me off this time. It will ruin me for life if you put me in prison. Let me go this time."

"A likely thing!" said the policemen, grimly, as they led him out into the street.

When they were gone, Mr. Hadleigh went round the house and shop to see that all was safe, David following with a light; and when everything was secure, they went upstairs again.

"Where have you been?" was Owen's first question. "Do lift up my pillow a bit; my head is so uncomfortable."

David did as he was asked; but he looked so excited that Owen inquired again, "Where have you been?"

"Mr. Hadleigh wanted me down in the shop."

"In the night! What time is it?"

"Two o'clock."

"What could he want?"

"We caught a thief stealing the goods out of the shop. I went for two policemen, and they got hold of him."

"How dreadful it must be to be a thief; it is worse for him even than for uncle to lose his things."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"I wish he knew I did not take those things of Mr. Davenport's."

"I think he'll know soon."

"Do you? Why?"

"I expect it was the same thief all along, and the truth will come out."

To David's relief, Owen did not ask any more questions, for Mr. Hadleigh had warned him not to excite the boy, nor tell him more than was needful. But David could hardly contain himself, it had been such a strange episode in the night.

CHAPTER VI.

"POOR, YET MAKING MANY RICH."

JUST as the clock was striking five, to the great relief of both boys, Clarice softly opened the door. She sent David off at once to the sofa in the next room, bidding him get an hour's sleep as soon as he could. Then making up the fire, she speedily and skilfully made a refreshing cup of chocolate, and brought it to Owen's bedside. He looked white and wan, as he whispered softly, "There is 'no sorrow' with it, cousin Clarice, though the pain is so bad."

"Poor boy," she whispered, softly stroking his head, "I wish I could bear it for you. But Jesus knows, and He will help you through all."

"Oh, He does; He comforts me so. When I was all alone, He gave me such happy thoughts of going soon to be with Him and father."

"I hope you will not go yet awhile, Owen. But how were you alone in the night? I thought David was with you."

"He was, most of the time. But uncle called him down to help about some thief."

"Some thief!"

"Yes, David said so."

Clarice thought the boy's mind was wandering, and asked no more questions, only talked on soothingly for awhile, and then read the "keeping" Psalm to him, "The Lord is thy keeper, … the Lord shall preserve thee from all evil," till Owen seemed quite comforted by the blessed words, both in mind and body, and laid so still, that his cousin hoped he might get a short sleep.

When at last she went into the breakfast-room, she found both her father and mother there before her, considerably excited and annoyed with the affair of the previous night. She was told the whole story, and said she was not much surprised, for she had never thought Norris was trustworthy.

"I know you never liked him," said her father; "but I thought it was only a girl's fancy. How is Owen this morning?"

"In great pain. This accident might never have happened but for Norris. I saw him push Owen just as he was stepping down; and having his arms full, he could not save himself."

Mr. Hadleigh went in to see the boy, before he went round to the police-court, and stayed some little time with him.

Owen asked to be sent back to Westbrook; he was sure some there would care for him for his father's sake; and he had not forgotten his uncle's words in the train, that if anyone could not work they had no right to live.

"It is impossible you should be moved, at any rate for some weeks," he said. "Why do you want to go?"

"Because I cannot earn anything, and shall not be able to do so for a long time, I fear," was the sorrowful reply.

"Never mind, Owen, these few months you have been here have shown me that money is not everything. Honesty, uprightness, and faithful service are more than money, and I will show you I value them by spending money on you. Don't you trouble; you will earn plenty when you are about again."

"Thank you," said the boy, greatly comforted, "I will get well as soon as I can, sir."

But the days passed slowly to the active lad, as he lay in weariness and pain, wondering if he should ever be able to walk again. He had intended to work hard and get on, and earn money, and do so much good in the world. Yet here he was laid on his back, unable to do anything, hardly knowing whether he should ever be more than a cripple. It was a trial to the young Christian, just as he started on the heavenly road. But he was very patient, and bore his pain manfully, while gratefully thanking any one who showed him any kindness.

His uncle continually came and sat down by him for half-an-hour at a time, and thus Owen often had sweet opportunities of witnessing for his Saviour, and telling his uncle of his peace and joy.

One day Mr. Hadleigh came in with a somewhat troubled face.

"Owen," he said, "how can I make up to you for wrongly accusing you?"

"Have you found out that I never took those things of Mr. Davenport's?" he asked, eagerly.

"Yes, I have just returned from Norris's trial, and it all came out. It seems that he and his sister kept a small grocer's shop in a low part of the town, and that for a long time he has partly stocked it through goods taken from me, by little and little, as he was able to do it. He confessed at last, when the evidence became too strong, and owned that he carried off Mr. Davenport's parcel to his own home. He is now in prison for two years."

"Isn't it sad for him?"

"It serves him right, for such wicked and underhand dealings."

"Yes, isn't it strange that people forget that they will be sure to be found out one day? Father always used to say that it paid best to be honest and upright in every way, even if it were not a question of right. Dishonest people must always live in fear of being found out. Father said we must always live open lives, and then everything would be right."

"Your father was a good man, Owen. I can't think how I came to suspect you. Only get well, and I will do all I can for you."

"Thank you, uncle; I am very glad you know I did not do it," replied the boy, as if he could not forget how heavy a weight had been lifted off him.

"It troubled you?" asked Mr. Hadleigh, kindly.

"Yes, sir, very much. Only I knew that God knew all about it, and I hoped He would right me one day."

"Does it comfort you to think that God knows all about you?"

"Yes, indeed it does; specially since He has made me His child. I like to think He knows just where I am, and what I am doing, and that He cares for me all the day long. He makes me so happy."

Mr. Hadleigh was silent; it was an experience he knew nothing of; yet as he looked at the thin, white face, smiling so peacefully, he felt it was possible so to live. And from that day forward he was very kind and tender to Owen, often encouraging him to talk, though saying little in reply himself.

Mr. Netherclift had sent many kind messages to Owen; he greatly regretted not being able to walk, as he should have liked to call on his young friend. But that not being possible, he sent kind words by David, and once he managed to write a few lines, to Owen's great joy, for it was a very rare thing for him to receive a letter.

At last he was able to get up once more, and in a few days longer could manage to go into the next room by the aid of a crutch on one side, and Clarice's strong arm on the other. It was a great delight to be able to move even so far, though the exertion made him feel somewhat faint at first. He had been there only a short time, when Clarice, who had been downstairs, came into the room with a smiling face.

"Could you bear to see a visitor, Owen?" she asked. "Do you feel strong enough?"

"A visitor! for me? Who is it?"

CLARICE HELPING OWEN.—Page 60.

"An old friend of yours," she replied, returning in a few minutes with an elderly gentleman, in whom Owen joyfully recognised his kind friend the Vicar of Westbrook.

"Oh, Mr. Sturt, sir, is it really you? I can't get up, sir, but I am glad to see you."

"Don't move, my boy. I have just heard of your accident from your uncle," he said, taking a chair which Clarice offered him, close to Owen. "I was passing through Barmston, and thought I should like to see you. You look very altered and weak," he said, kindly; "are you in much pain?"

"No, it is not so bad now, sir; I hardly knew how to bear it at first. But the Lord Jesus was with me all the time, and He helped me, sir."

"I am glad to hear you say that, Owen; it is a blessed thing to know that the Saviour is with His children at all times, under all circumstances, and we are very happy when we realise His presence."

"Yes, sir, I have had 'no sorrow' with it, though the suffering has been so great."

"You are changed, Owen; I think few at Westbrook would recognise you if they saw you now."

"No, sir, I daresay not. Will you tell me something about them all, please? It seems so long since I was there."

"No doubt it does, though to us things seem going on much as usual, except that we greatly miss your father, and his quiet influence for good. I have still got your things, Owen, but they are ready for you whenever you want them."

"I am afraid it will be a long time before I can have them, sir. There is no room to put them here, and I do not know when I shall be able to earn money enough to buy them back. I shall never win a fortune now, sir, as I used to wish to. I am afraid I shall always be a cripple."

"I don't think there is much fear of that. You are young, and the bones soon knit together again. I have no doubt you will be as strong as ever by-and-by, though of course it will take time. But as for your fortune, I thought you had already obtained a large part of it," said Mr. Sturt, smiling kindly at the pale young face.

A bright smile flushed all over it, as Owen replied, "So I have, sir, in one way. I have got the best fortune now, for I belong to the Saviour, and I know He will give me just what I need. Only I meant I could not earn any money for a long time."

"Then occupy this leisure time in seeking more of the heavenly riches, and though you may be poor yourself, you can make many rich by giving."

"But I have nothing to give, sir, nothing at all."

"Can you not give grateful thanks and love to those around you, who so kindly look after you? And can you not give your voice and heart in prayer for those who yet know nothing of the riches of the Saviour's grace?"

"Yes," said the boy, slowly, "I can do that. And I have prayed, sir, often for uncle and Clarice."

"And God hears and answers. Your cousin tells me that it is mainly through you she has sought and found the Saviour; and your uncle is also seeking the same blessing. God is honouring you, Owen. Oh, keep always low down at His feet, and give Him all the glory. You came here wishing to gain riches, and God is giving you your desire, not in earthly coin, but in precious souls saved for all eternity. 'There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing: there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches.' God give you grace to choose the lowly and the better way at all times through life."