CHAPTER XVIII. — SANDY FLASH REAPPEARS.
During the month of October, while Gilbert Potter was occupied with his lonely and monotonous task, he had ample leisure to evolve a clear, calm, happy purpose from the tumult of his excited feelings. This was, first, to accomplish his own independence, which now seemed inevitably necessary, for his mother's sake, and its possible consequences to her; then, strong in the knowledge of Martha Deane's fidelity, to wait with her.
With the exception of a few days of rainy weather, his hauling prospered, and he returned home after five weeks' absence, to count up the gains of the year and find that very little was lacking of the entire amount to be paid.
Mary Potter, as the prospect of release drew so near, became suddenly anxious and restless. The knowledge that a very large sum of money (as she considered it) was in the house, filled her with a thousand new fears. There were again rumors of Sandy Flash lurking around Marlborough, and she shuddered and trembled whenever his name was mentioned. Her uneasiness became at last so great that Gilbert finally proposed writing to the conveyancer in Chester who held the mortgage, and asking whether the money might not as well be paid at once, since he had it in hand, as wait until the following spring.
“It's not the regular way,” said she, “but then, I suppose it'll hold in law. You can ask Mr. Trainer about that. O Gilbert, if it can be done, it'll take a great load off my mind!”
“Whatever puts the mortgage into my hands, mother,” said he, “is legal enough for us. I needn't even wait to sell the grain; Mark Deane will lend me the seventy-five dollars still to be made up, if he has them—or, if he can't, somebody else will. I was going to the Square this evening; so I'll write the letter at once, and put it in the office.”
The first thing Gilbert did, on reaching the village, was to post the letter in season for the mail-rider, who went once a week to and fro between Chester and Peach-bottom Ferry, on the Susquehanna. Then he crossed the street to Dr. Deane's, in order to inquire for Mark, but with the chief hope of seeing Martha for one sweet moment, at least. In this, however, he was disappointed; as he reached the gate, Mark issued from the door.
“Why, Gilbert, old boy!” he shouted; “the sight o' you's good for sore eyes! What have you been about since that Sunday evening we rode up the west branch? I was jist steppin' over to the tavern to see the fellows—come along, and have a glass o' Rye!”
He threw his heavy arm over Gilbert's shoulder, and drew him along.
“In a minute, Mark; wait a bit—I've a little matter of business with you. I need to borrow seventy-five dollars for a month or six weeks, until my wheat is sold. Have you that much that you're not using?”
“That and more comin' to me soon,” said Mark, “and of course you can have it. Want it right away?”
“Very likely in ten or twelve days.”
“Oh, well, never fear—I'll have some accounts squared by that time! Come along!” And therewith the good-natured fellow hurried his friend into the bar-room of the Unicorn.
“Done pretty well, haulin', this time?” asked Mark, as they touched glasses.
“Very well,” answered Gilbert, “seeing it's the last time. I'm at an end with hauling now.”
“You don't say so? Here's to your good luck!” exclaimed Mark, emptying his glass.
A man, who had been tilting his chair against the wall, in the farther corner of the room, now arose and came forward. It was Alfred Barton.
During Gilbert's absence, neither this gentleman's plan nor that of his father, had made much progress. It was tolerably easy, to be sure, to give the old man the impression that the preliminary arrangements with regard to money were going on harmoniously; but it was not so easy to procure Dr. Deane's acceptance of the part marked out for him. Alfred had sought an interview with the latter soon after that which he had had with Martha, and the result was not at all satisfactory. The wooer had been obliged to declare that his suit was unsuccessful; but, he believed, only temporarily so. Martha had been taken by surprise; the question had come upon her so suddenly that she could scarcely be said to know her own mind, and time must be allowed her. Although this statement seemed probable to Dr. Deane, as it coincided with his own experience in previously sounding his daughter's mind, yet Alfred's evident anxiety that nothing should be said to Martha upon the subject, and that the Doctor should assume to his father that the question of balancing her legacy was as good as settled, (then proceed at once to the discussion of the second and more important question,) excited the Doctor's suspicions. He could not well avoid giving the required promise in relation to Martha, but he insisted on seeing the legal evidences of Alfred Barton's property, before going a step further.
The latter was therefore in a state of great perplexity. The game he was playing seemed safe enough, so far, but nothing had come of it, and beyond this point it could not be carried, without great increase of risk. He was more than once tempted to drop it entirely, confessing his complete and final rejection, and allowing his father to take what course he pleased; but presently the itching of his avaricious curiosity returned in full force, and suggested new expedients.
No suspicion of Gilbert Potter's relation to Martha Deane had ever entered his mind. He had always had a liking for the young man, and would, no doubt, have done him any good service which did not require the use of money. He now came forward very cordially and shook-hands with the two.
Gilbert had self-possession enough to control his first impulse, and to meet his rival with his former manner. Secure in his own fortune, he even felt that he could afford to be magnanimous, and thus, by degrees, the dislike wore off which Martha's confession had excited.
“What is all this talk about Sandy Flash?” he asked.
“He's been seen up above,” said Barton; “some say, about Marlborough, and some, along the Strasburg road. He'll hardly come this way; he's too cunning to go where the people are prepared to receive him.”
If either of the three had happened to look steadily at the back window of the bar-room, they might have detected, in the dusk, the face of Dougherty, the Irish ostler of the Unicorn Tavern. It disappeared instantly, but there was a crack nearly half an inch wide between the bottom of the back-door and the sill under it, and to that crack a large, flat ear was laid.
“If he comes any nearer, you must send word around at once,” said Gilbert,—“not wait until he's already among us.”
“Let me alone for that!” Barton exclaimed; “Damn him, I only wish he had pluck enough to come!”
Mark was indignant “What's the sheriff and constables good for?” he cried. “It's a burnin' shame that the whole country has been plundered so long, and the fellow still runnin' at large. Much he cares for the five hundred dollars on his head.”
“It's a thousand, now,” said Barton. “They've doubled it.”
“Come, that'd be a good haul for us. We're not bound to keep inside of our township; I'm for an up and down chase all over the country, as soon as the fall work's over!”
“And I, too,” said Gilbert
“You 're fellows after my own heart, both o' you!” Barton asserted, slapping them upon the back. “What'll you take to drink?”
By this time several others had assembled, and the conversation became general. While the flying rumors about Sandy Flash were being produced and discussed, Barton drew Gilbert aside.
“Suppose we step out on the back-porch,” he said, “I want to have a word with you.”
The door closed between them and the noisy bar-room. There was a rustling noise under the porch, as of a fowl disturbed on its roost, and then everything was still.
“Your speaking of your having done well by hauling put it into my head, Gilbert,” Barton continued. “I wanted to borrow a little money for a while, and there's reasons why I shouldn't call upon anybody who'd tell of it. Now, as you've got it, lying idle”—
“It happens to be just the other way, Barton,” said Gilbert, interrupting him. “I came here to-night to borrow.”
“How's that?” Barton could not help asking, with a momentary sense of chagrin. But the next moment he added, in a milder tone, “I don't mean to pry into your business.”
“I shall very likely have to use my money soon,” Gilbert explained, “and must at least wait until I hear from Chester. That will be another week, and then, if the money should not be wanted, I can accommodate you. But, to tell you the truth, I don't think there's much chance of that.”
“Shall you have to go down to Chester?”
“I hope so.”
“When?”
“In ten or twelve days from now.”
“Then,” said Barton, “I 'II fix it this way. 'Tisn't only the money I want, but to have it paid in Chester, without the old man or Stacy knowing anything of the matter. If I was to go myself, Stacy'd never rest till he found out my business—Faith! I believe if I was hid in the hayloft o' the William Penn Tavern, he'd scent me out. Now, I can get the money of another fellow I know, if you'll take it down and hand it over for me. Would you be that obliging?”
“Of course,” Gilbert answered. “If I go it will be no additional trouble.”
“All right,” said Barton, “between ourselves, you understand.”
A week later, a letter, with the following address was brought to the post-office by the mail-rider,—
“To Mr. Gilbert Potter, Esq. Kennett Square P. O. These, with Care and Speed.”
Gilbert, having carefully cut around the wafer and unfolded the sheet of strong yellowish paper, read this missive,—
“Sir: Yr respd favour of ye [Footnote: This form of the article, though in general disuse at the time, was still frequently employed in epistolary writing, in that part of Pennsylvania. [ed note: The r in Yr and e in ye, etc. are superscripted.] 11th came duly to hand, and ye proposition wh it contains has been submitted to Mr. Jones, ye present houlder of ye mortgage. He wishes me to inform you that he did not anticipate ye payment before ye first day of April, 1797, wh was ye term agreed upon at ye payment of ye first note; nevertheless, being required to accept full and lawful payment, whensoever tendered, he hath impowered me to receive ye moneys at yr convenience, providing ye settlement be full and compleat, as aforesaid, and not merely ye payment of a part or portion thereof.
“Yr obt servt,