The Lost Bridal Gift.

Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1632, 27 November 1874, Page 441

The Lost Bridal Gift.

AKOOSY. ffc tied in a house of one's own ! " So spoke young Mrs Clinton the first week she was settled in hers. Her husband, a struggling young lawyer, whose office was in the heart of the quiet country village that had been the home always of both of them, was away at the said office, ami the wife was alone. Neither of them was overburthened with this world's goods. But they had resolved to marry and struggle along together, rather than wait apart until they were old and rich. He would strive to steadily make money; she to be economical and saving at home, and so make both ends meet. It might not be amiss if some other young ladies and gentlemen of the present day tried the same.

Tom Clinton took his wife home ; and here she was, setting about her duties with a good heart, and intending to become the most active little housewife in this world. Of course she began by superintending the cookery; the young maid seemed good for nothing but to make beds and stare at her pretty new mistress. Such meals! Such dainty little dishes put on to the table, made up after the best recipes in the new cookery book! Why is it that these said cookery books tell so little, compared with what they might ? They run after this fashion : "To cook salmon. Boil it till it's done. Serve with lobster sauco and sliced cucumber."

" Good gracious!" cried poor Mrs Clinton, "I wonder how long it must be boiled ; and whether it should be put into cold or hot water ? " Neither maid nor mistress knew. But difficulties are soon surmounted when hearts and hands are willing. Sometimes, though, the young wife caught herself wishing that she and Tom had rather more ready money. Very active was she; untiring, and full hope and spirits. All the best of the furniture she dusted herself, and then there was no fear that their pretty ornaments and presents would get broken. One piece of their rather small Btcck of furniture was an old bureau, or rather bureau and desk combined, which was filled with small drawers, pigeonholes, &c. This had belonged to Tom Clinton's grandfather, and was handed down to Tom as an heirloom. Eunice Clinton had looked through it every day since she came home, and yet found something to admire and wonder over. For she liked those capacious old things of carved oak, which must have been valuable in their day, if old-fashioned now. Tom had shown her two secret receptacles for papers, placed beneath the small drawers; and one day Eunice found a prize. She had taken out a remote drawer lor the purpose of dusting it, when she noticed a small drawer, yet behind it. Of course she opened this at once, and there found, wrapped in a piece of old yellow paper, a silver watch. It was very old and battered, the hands were broken off, and it had no glass. She took it up and shook it, but it did not tick in answer to the shake, as no doubt a wellregulated watch ought to do; it only rattled, as though the inside works were all loose and bioken. She tried to open it, and got the outer case off without trouble; but the watch itself resisted all her efforts. It seemed never to have had an opening yet. How was it Tom had never found this she wondered. But Tom Clinton had no genius for exploring old places as she had. The probability was, Tom had never looked thoroughly into it since the pice of furniture came to him; and besides, Tom could never see a thing though it stared him in the face. How she wished Tom had been at home ■when she found this watch! it would be bo long to wait until dinner time. How she would plague him! To be sure, it was no treasure such as she had read of, concealed in just such places—nothing but an old turnip-shaped silver watch. Eunice quitted the watch and bureau, and went singing about the house for an hour or so, trying hard not to feel dull; but the morning appeared unusually long. She had no sewing to do—young wives seldom have; and she wished again that the hours would pass and dinner-time come. Looking from the window, she espied a pedlar with a monstrous pack on his back coining up the village street. Now, did you ever know a woman who did not like to deal with a pedlar if she had a sly chance? At any rate, Mrs Clinton, so much at a loss what to do with her time that day, did not send him away when he came to the door. Sarah wanted some new colored aprons, and perhaps he had just the print that would suit. Pedlars in country districts are no uncommon visitors, and are not altogether unknown in superior houses. The pedlar, was allowed to enter the small neat diningroom ; and soon every table and chair it contained was covered with articles from

the pack. The more Mrs Clinton told the I man she did not want to see all these ' things, the more of them he kept spreading out. Our young housekeeper was sorely tried. She had very little money in the house, and well she knew Tom's purse was low just now. She took two aprons for Sarah, and a neat handkerchief that was cheap; and no more. The polite pedlar talked and flattered all in vain ; Eunice was firm, she must not think of those pink ribbons, that fine neat chintz. Oh, how she did wish for plenty of money ! She could not bear to see him folding up all those pretty things, "and so cheap, too." As the pedlar, with much remonstrance, finally put up the last of his goods, he took out a small tin case, and opening it, showed a set of very handsome silver tea-spoons. The very things she had secretly longed for! The truth was all their little stock of plate was Birmingham plate, and she had just so wished for a few teaspoons in silver. The pedlar saw at once that the spoons had caught her eye, and he handed them to her, saying—- " Now, madam, here is the last set of spoons I have, and you shall have them a bargain. Feel their weight—the best of pure silver; and there's a place, you see, for the engraving of your name. Do you fear they are not real ? Look at the mark.'' Mrs Clinton did not fear that; she knew silver when she saw it. " Yes, they are very nice, very tempting ; but I have not the money," said poor Eunice, looking longingly at the much-coveted spoons. "What of that?" cried the pedlar; "you can borrow of some one, surely. Or I will take any old silver, or gold, or clothing you may have to spare." Eunice caught at the words "old silver," and thought of the watch she had discovered only an hour before. She went to the drawer, and holding it out to him, said—- " What will you allow me for this ? " The pedlar took the watch in his hand, and went to the doer, as if to examine it better by the light; while Eunice, trembling, she knew not why, gazed at the coveted spoons. " I cannot give you more than twenty shillings for this," he said, " and it is not worth that." Eunice felt her keart sink; she had but twelve shillings in the house, and she must have the spoons. Torn knew nothing of the watch ; and of course he would not care what was done with that old battered thing. But the watch and her twelve shillings would not buy the spoons. " Have you no old clothes ? " asked the man. No, she had no old clothes, she was about to say ; when all at once she remembered a pair of heavy winter pantaloons of Tom's she had seen hanging up. It would be a long time before winter yet; perhaps Tom might never think of them again ; she would get them ; if the pedlar would only take them, the spoons were hers! While she went upstairs, the pedlar took another look at the old watch, opened the inner case, and started to his feet; but instantly sat down again when he heard Mrs Clinton descending. He seemed in such haste to close the bargain now that he scarcely looked at the winter pantaloons. Flinging them over his arm, he placed the case of spoons within the eager trembling hands of his young customer, took up his pack and departed. Mrs Clinton fairly kissed the spoons. Now she could invite friends to tea, and not feel ashamed when they surreptitiously glanced at the mark on the silver. Dinner time came; the table was laid, and she stood at the window looking for Tom. For the first time the thought came into her mind, —had she clone right? Could she tell Tom ? He might not like it about that watch. And would he make a fuss at hei dealing with a pedlar? In the old days she remembered her papa had made a fine to-do when his wife had bought a shawl of one. Perhaps she had better not show the spoons to Tom just yet. How strange it would be to keep anything back from him ! Whv, what should she talk about? She could not plague him about her being the first to find any treasure in the old bureau. But thero he was coming ! They met with the usual embrace, and Mr Clinton did not observe any change in his wife until dinner was over, and she came in to sit sit by him ; he fancied then that she was very silent.

Eunice was thinking of the spoons. Somehow she did not seem to take so much pleasure in them as at first. She had laid the little case on the shelf in the cupboard. What if Tom should go there for a glass ? He had often done so. She left her seat, put water and glasses on the table, and sat down again.

" What is that water for ? " asked Mr Clinton.

"I thought perhaps you might want some."

And what has my little wife been doing all the morning ? " " Oh, nothing much; just stirring about and "

"And what?" said Tom, drawing her nearer to him ; " have you been overhauling the old desk again, finding old deeds and all sorts of treasures? " "I fear there will come never any treasure to us," said Eunice, almost sobbing. " Why what's the matter ? " cried Tom; " are you tired, my darling ? " "Eunice muttered something about " loneliness." Any excuse to save telling of the pedlar and the watch. "You are tired and nervous, Eunice. Shall we send for one of your sisters to stay here for a week or two ? " Eunice fairly burst into tears. She was finding the secret a heavy one, and yet she dared not confess. What would her husband think of her folly ? Those horrid spoons! She wished she had never seen thsrn. And then, to account for her low spirits, she said she had a headache. They fell into easy conversation. Something led the topic to Tom's family, and he told her, for the first time, a long story of his grandfather, his mother's father, who had once been considered very rich indeed. He was a great traveller, and was seldom at home after the death of his wife, who had left him two children, a son and a daughter, in the fifth year after their marriage.

" The children were left with an old housekeeper, in a beautiful cottage surrounded by well-cultivated fields, old trees, and an extensive garden," said Tom, recalling reminiscenses as lie went on ; " the garden was the care.of the housekeeper's husband, an old Scotchman, who took much delight in it, and was so fond of symmetry that it was of him ,the old story is told which has since become almost a proverb " "What story?" interrupted Eunice, growing interested in the tale. ''l'll tell you," said Tom; "this old Scotchman had a son about the age of his master's son. One day, while the master was atliome,theyoimg Sjot was impudent, or committed some misdemeanor, when his m ister seized him by the collar, and locked him in the lodge at the gale. Coming out some hours after, my grandfather was surprised to hear his own son crying out from the lodge on the other side of the gate. He was locked in. ' What does ibis mean?' he exclaimed, hastily releasing his son and heir, and turning to the gardener for an explanation. 'Symmetry, sir, symmetry,' said the stolid Scotchman ; ' there is nothing like symmetry !' And iheanswer was so ready that the offence was forg ven.'* Eunice laughed. " But the gardener's boy was a wild youth, and soon led his master's son into all sorts of scrapes," resumed Tom. "The master was absent so much of the time he forgot that his son was growing up and needed a guardian's care. At the ago of fifteen both boys left suddenly in the night, after committing some folly in the neighboring town, and although search was made, they could not be traced. The honest gardener did not admire the 'symmetry' of the thing so much this time ; he grieved over the loss of his hoy, gave up work, and died just before the return of his master; my grandfather never got over this blow to his pride ; he sent his daughter, my dear mother, off to boarding-school, and shut himself up in the once pleasant home, allowing no one to speak to him but his faithful old friend the housekeeper; his son and the other hoy were never heard from ; it was thought they were both lost at sea." " What a sad history!" cried Mrs Clinton. "The old man, after secluding himself for seven years, again started on his travels ; this time it was said he went to Brazil; he did not return until my mother was in her twenty-second year ; when he did come he was looking old and careworn, and apparently poor; he never made much of his daughter, but settled his affairs, giving the house, furniture, and grounds to his only child, telling her he had a small bridal gift ready for her, provided she should marry to please him ; what the gift was she could not learn ; he had often spent hours at the old desk—that bureau, my dear, that you are so fond of exploring —and he often gave orders that it should be the first care of any of the household in case of fire or other accident; poor old man ! he was found one morning sitting by his favorite desk stiff and stark ; he had evidently died in the night, alone and unheard ; of course, my mother was stunned, but she could not t.e expected to mourn very deeply the loss of such a parent; he "

" And what of the small bridal gift. Tom ?"

" Nothing ; there was not one ; the old desk was searched, but nothing of value found ; some old letters, papers, and suchlike, were there in plenty; but the promised bridal gift was nowhere to be seen ; there or elsewhere."

" My mother married soon afterwards," continued Mr Clinton, after a pause : " and I was born in the old home : but alas ! that dear place is mine no longer; after my father's death it became necessary to sell it for our support, and when I was only fifteen my poor mother died, leaving me nothing buther love and kind precepts and the little that remained of her household furniture, the old bureau-desk among it."

" It is handsome still, Tom, though it is old."

" Very handsome ; and now, my dear, T must leave you," he added, "fori have some work to do at the office yet; as to the old bureau we will still treasure it ; for do you know, 1 used to fancy there must be some treasure in it, though whence I derived the notion I can't tell ; of course, you'll laugh at that, Eunice !" fie went off laughing himself. Mrs Clinton save a sigh of relief, took out the new spjons, and tried hard to take as much delight in them as she bad done in the morning. What good could they ever do her if Tom was not to see them ? Even if she should invite company to tea, she would not dare use the spoons! That old watch was surely no treasure, but site heartily wished for it back again. If she could only take it to Tom, and tell him she had found it in the old desk I He certainly had never discovered the watch, or he would have mentioned it to her. But a strange repentance clung to her for what she iiad done ; and for so trifling a matter she really could not tell why it should. Mrs Clinton sat back in her chair, and cried harder than she had ever cried Defore. To think of keeping a secret from Tom; that was what she could not bear; and yet, to tell him of the bargain—that she "had dealt with a pedlar—had even chaffered off his winter pantaloons!—how Tom would laugh at her, tell her father and sisters, and—and—well, she would never hear the last of it.

Tom came in to tea, full of news, and quite excited about a man who had,heentaken suddenly ill at the village influ " I cannot walk out with you as I promised, Eunice, said the younj* lawyer, " for I have to be at the inn at nine o'clock, to make the old fellow's will; fancy a pedlar making a will! " " A pedlar making a will," repeated Eunice, her thoughts running to her pedlar, and feeling somewhat bewildered. " It's what the landlord said when he came to me at the office. And now I must go. Good-bye, dear." Mrs Clinton sat on, in the dusk of the summer's evening; By and-by, a gentleman, whom she slightly knew, came to the house, asked to see her, and addressed her without ceremony. "MrsClinton,yourhusbandhasrequested me to call here and ask you to accompany me to the inn. He is engaged there, and could not come for you himself." Eunice was surprised, but did not hesitate, In another minute they were walk-

ing down the street together. The swinging sign of the Brown Bear was in sight, when it suddenly occurred to the young wife that all this was curious. Why hail Tom seut for her ? It was one of Tom's tricks ! Some of their friends had come, and were slopping at the Brown Bear. Yes ; that must be it. But she found no friends. She was shown into a parlour, and waited there alone. Presently Tom came in, looking flurried. " Eunice," he said, sternly, " was there a pedlar at our house to-day ? " " Yo-es," answered his trembling wife. " And did you deal with him ? What did you give him ? " "Oh, Tom! I have so wanted to tell you !" sobbed Eunice—" but, not here—not now ! "

" Yes, here and now," returned her husband ; "you do not know how much depends on vour words." " Oh, oh !—please, Tom, don't look so at me ! I only feared you would laugh at me and tease me—and—perhaps not like it. I—l will never do so again." " Just tell me what you did do," commanded Mr Clinton.

Eunice, wishing she could sink through the floor, but trying to be brave, now it had come to this, made a clean breast of it—the old watch, pantaloons and all. Tom stood aghast; then, taking Eunice b> the hand, he led her up-stairs, to the bedside of the sick man. It was the pedlar of the moraine ; but alas how changed! A few cases of a sad epidemic had occurred in the village during the past week ; and the pedkr was stricken with it, after eating a very hearty dinner. The physician who was called in told him he had no chance for life, and the poor man sent at once for Mr Clinton ; asking for him as " the husband of the lady who lived in the white house at the corner." For, after his bargain, he had informed himself who the Clintons were. Tom received the message ; and, like all young lawyers, on Ihe look-out for practice, he responded to it with eagerness ; and, before the time appointed, appeared at the bedside of the sick man. What was his surprise to hear, between groans and paroxysms of pain, an unintelligible tale of spoons, watch, pantaloons, and his wife. For a time he could not understand; and when he did understand, could not believe. His refined young wife dealing with a travelling pedlar! But the pedlar kept asking to have the lady seut for; and Tom sent. Now he had heard her story, he awaitei the denouement. Eunice approached the sick man, trembling. He took something from between the bed and mattrass, held it a moment, then placed it in the lady's hand. " I am dying, he said ; " they tell me I am dying ; and I want you to forgive me, for I cheated you this morning, and the Lord has laid his hand upon me—my sins have found me out. Here is the watch; take it, and all that is in it! Ido not know what it is worth, but the spoons would never pay for it. Keep them, and pray for me. Oh, pray for me 1" And the poor man rolled in agony. Mr Clinton took his wife down stairs, and out into the street, hurrying her along, without speakiug, until they reached their own gate.

" Go in, now darling," he said, " and I will go for old Dr. Ray ; I have more faith in him, he may be able to help the inau yet," So saying, he hurried away, leaving his wife standing at the gate, clutching the old silver watch in her hand. She went slowly into the house, lighted the lamp, and once more tried to examine the watch.

" *v hat can tlicre l>e about this old tiling to cause so mud) grief ami remorse to that poor man, I wonder?" she cried, in her bewildered confusion ; " I cannot get that dying man out of my thoughts." But tlio watch would not open. It could not be that. Then the thought struck her that t hure might have been something valuable in the pockets of those pantaloons. She had not looked before shu gave them —and tlipy were still at the Brown 3ear. Getting out the case of spoons, she placed them, with the old watch, on the table, and waited for Tom. She had not long to wait; he came in, wiping the perspiration from bis white forehead, for the evening was warm and be had walked fast. He had left the old doctor with the sick man, and hurried back to his wife, for he longed to have the events of the day and night thoroughly explained. After kissing Eunice, who clung to him like a frightened child, he took up the old battered watch, and said, "Now, dear, show me where in the desk you found this." Eunice went to the desk, took out t'io drawer, and then the one at the back of it, in which remained the old paper wrapper. Mr Clinton seized upon this at once, examined it carefully, and then looked up with a suppressed, eager smile, " Eunice, the long-lost bridal gift is found at last!" And sure enough, the little yellow paper told it all. A very'valuable diamond was concealed in the interior of the battered watch ; a diamond that was almost priceless. The sou's young wife had found what the poor mother had so long searched for—the splendid bridal gift that the old man had died without bestowing.

" No more struggles, Eunice," said Mr Clinton, with heartfelt satisfaction ; "no more need for my little wife to roast her face over the kitchen fire, or to debar herself innocent pleasures, because they would cost shillings and sixpences." And Eunice burst into a storm of happy tears, and cried on Ins arm. And in time, while Tom went plodding on, making himself into a renowned lawyer, little children played in the pretty garden, and climbed on papa's knee, and begged to hear again and again the pretty story of the lost diamond.

Nor must I fail to tell of the recovery of the poor frightened pedlar. Dr. Ray had him up and about in no time, and his first walk was to the "white house" in the corner, again begging Mrs Clinton to accept the spoons as a small gift, and as having been the means of making an honest man of him. There was no cheat in those spoons. They were real silver; and they arc still in the family, with the name " Eunice " engraved on each, and they arc called " the diamond spoons." The pedlar owned that he suspected something when he shook the old watch and heard a peculiar rattle, and when" he caught a glimpse of the sparkling jewel, it dazzled his eyes, and he never waited to look at the pantaloons which were brought out by the young thoughtless wife to complete the

sum required, although he found, on looking at them, that they aloue were well worth the price of the spoons. " You see, Eunice, how you were robbing me," her husband would say, with grave lips and laughing eyes ; " what would your poor husband have done when winter came, and tUe chilly winds did blow, without any thick trousers to put on ?"