Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1892-02-06
CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER II.
1t is strange what wonderful results the love
OF money can work in mans nature and in q
womans, too for that matter. Now, up to this
moment Old Copcutt had not been a particu-
larly hard-hearted man. His looks had been
the only hard thing about him, but the world
In general and Jane in particular had had an
IDEA that he was rather a tender and sympa-
thetic character, barring always his looks
these were strongly against him. But his whole
being underwent a transformation, and doubt
that II In all his store houses there was O stick
OF oak teak or lgnum vite quite as dense,
heart twenty-four hours after the news OF this
failure. He went to Jane with as dry an eve
ana as steady a voice az il he were merely
dickerlnS with customer about the price Of
an extra large mahogany log.
Jane, said he, you We always been good
girl-a very good girl--and know that you
will see the necessity of doing as ask in this
matter. You will not want to see your old
father dishonored, the business of q quarter
OF century go to the dogs, poverty stare us
In the face, when by accepting Mr.. Hargreaves
as your intended husband nv credit will at
once be placed upon firm basis and l will
slip into the splendid position made vacant by
tins failure, and you yourself will acquire q
social station that any lady in the land might
envy"
Jane had to rub her eyes to persuade herself
that it really was her father talking to her
Her suffering was the keener in that it was
fearless She tried hard, but she couldn't
weep 1t was very strange. Her only thought
was what would Cuthbert do? She knew how
he leaned upon her; she knew what womanish
sort OF a man he was. Would it not kill him?
1t might, and yet was not her first duty to the
author OF her being! Suppose she should re-
fuse to obey and take Cuthberr, she knew her
fathers proud spirit; he never would survive
the blow and h1S death would be upon her
soul Son oo On, it ewiul awful whichever way
Not expecting |hbert until the afternoon
Jane ma herself away In her room to pray for
counsel, and above all to try and weep, but by
some whim of fate Plum.ey walked into the
drawing room the moment after jane had left
it. Old Copcutt swept down upon the poor
boy like whitening blast.
Il have no money for you" he blurted out,
mot penny. I'm beggared. How do you
expect to support my daughter?'' Plumley
reeled as if fit of vertigo had come upon him.
His mouth fell open, his arms dropped, he
gasped-he was pitiful object to look upon
He had always been poor. very poor. An old
aunt had scraped together enough to pay his
way through Cambridge, but it had been a hard
rub. The word money had always frightened
hint was word that sent cold shivers down
his spine. His fingers had always trembled
when he handled a sovereign or folded crisp
new 20 note. He had lived his whole life in
absolute terror of mOney-how to get it, where
to get it-this had been his constant and anx-
lous thought, and Old Copcutts words now
fairly burnt into his brain.
Jane heard her fathers violent attack upon
Plumley and rushed down stairs to defend
him, to comfort him, to break the awful force
OF the blow. to implore him to be merciful and
strong. but the sight Of his daughter gave Old
Copcutt new strength, added just another de-
gree of hardness to his heart, and commanding
"a lyn1y hnt hot
ically ordered Mr.. Plumley to leave the house
The young man made an attempt to speak,
but the awful shadow Of old Copeutt's broad
leathery palm silenced him. He turned toward
Jane and tried to pronounce her name, but the
word would not leave bis lips. Dazed par
alyzed, senseless, he turned and left the room
and then house. II he had had q thousand
tongues and the volubility of fishwife he
could not have made any reply to old Copcutt's
question OF how he expected to support his
daughter.
The demon money stalked after him all the
way to his lodging, where a few hours after
ward came letter from Jane. full of gentle
words and comforting phrases imploring him
to bear up bravely, that when her father
quieted down somewhat she hoped that she
would be able to bring him to saner and more
reasonable views.
But Cuthbert Plumley saw. felt that he was
beaten. beaten by that demon gold, and he sur
rendered like a man. Yes, he loved Jane, but
God forbid that he should seek to drag her
down to his miserable level of toll and drudc-
cry. No. he would give her up. To him it
had beca give up" all his life. This was but
one more give up added to the long list
What was now left him? Should he sit down
and fold his hands in blank despair? Oh. no;
there was too much sunshine in his soul for
that. He could keep ON loving Jane-old Cop
cult couldn't stop that And So with his ma
ture untouched by the poison Of disappolnt-
ment. unsecured by the gall of unrequited love-
he did the best thing under the circumstances
he went into the church.
From curacy to curacy he was carried bv
the ecclesiastical wave, taking the oversight Of
his hocks, but never shearing them. When
his rectors died the sheep always bleated that
this excellent man ought to be his successor,
but the patron had always a nephew or cousin
and would he said, have been worse than an
intidel to have neglected their claims At
last, when Cuthbert Plumley had reached mid
die age, and mis- scanty locks were prematurely
tinged with gray, bishop taking note of his
faithful service, or pity upon his frequent
Blondel Parva, worth nearly two hundred
a year-if he could only have got
the farmers to pay it. They did not dislike
him, far from it. but they disiked the disburse-
ment on principle. and their pastor was far too
tender, hearted man to press the victims Of
agricultural depression.
He had no money, but then, as he naively
observed. he didn't want it. He took care OF
his two suits OF clothes, rarely drank ANYTHING
more costly than bitter beer and smoked the
most economical tobacco after his homely
dinner. 1t is true in course Of years the fur
niture of his little cottage began to look time
worn like himself, but he never "enter-
tained' except those who were no critics of
such matters, his poor, that offended no eve
but his own: There was no resident
squire in the village, and he did
what he could for them. He was tall and thin
and with a face SO gentle in its expression that
some thought it girlish; but he was only femi-
nine in his unselfshness. His life indeed
was series OF self-sacrifces, which
might have moved even himself to
pity had he been aware Of it. Int he had no
more notion of his being a source of comfort
and happiness to the world than a dead rose
leaf has OF its own aroma He might have
recognized perhaps here aud there the graft
tude OF his fellow-creGtures, only he never
looked for it. Such was his modesty that he
oven doubted whether he pleased his Master
though he knew that he was not hard to please.
One day a strange thing happened; the
curate was asked out to dinner 1t was only at
the village doctors, a bachelor like himself,
who lived in just such another cottage as The
Laurels" (only a trife better furnished because
he had not set up housekeeping SO long,, and
| the thought OF this unwOnted dissipation quite
excited him. Some people dine out i've times
week Qncluding. one is sorry to say, Sun
days. and at last q am todd get a little
tired Of it; but Mr.. Plumley had never
| experienced any fatigue OF that nature.
Moreover. DR.. Winter had asked him to meet