COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS.
The Great Discovery Company had run its race of prosperity. A few months passed, and the prospects of those connected with it began to change. Chapman went about Nyack shaking his head despondingly, and saying that he had been deceived by Hanz Toodleburg, who had deceived them all with his story about Kidd's treasure, and would be the cause of their losing a large amount of money.
"I never would have been caught in such a trap, but I believed Hanz Toodleburg to be an honest man, a very honest man, and I put faith in his word. But I have been deceived. Well, it is not the first time my confidence has been abused in this way," Chapman would say, holding up his hands, while his face assumed an expression of injured innocence.
Hanz, on the other hand, protested his innocence. Never in all his life, he said, had he taken a dollar of money not his own, and honestly made. He was persuaded to do what he had done by the gentlemen whom he supposed engaged in an honest enterprise. In truth, he had never suspected them of a design to get honest people's money in a dishonest way.
"If I toos t' shentlemens a favors, und ta makes t' money, und I makes no money, und t' peoples don't get no money pack, what I cot t' do mit him?" Hanz would say, when accused by the settlers of aiding designing men to get their hard earnings. But all he could say and protest did not relieve him of the suspicion that he was a participant in getting up the enterprise. In short, there was the old story of his knowledge of where Kidd's treasure was buried lending color of truth to the statements made to his injury by Chapman.
The innocent Dutch settlers would gather at Bright's inn of an evening, smoke their pipes, mutter their discontent at the way things had turned, compare their "equivalents," and relate how much saving it had cost them to get the money thrown away on them. If it had not been for Hanz Toodleburg, they said, not a man of them would have believed a word of the story about Mr. Kidd and his money. Indeed, they would insist on laying all their sorrows at Hanz's door.
Chapman had also circulated a report, which had gained belief among the settlers, that the trouble was caused by the devil refusing to surrender the key of the big iron chest; that he had been heard under sounding-rock, making terrible noises, and threatening to destroy every man working in the shaft. Then it was said that the ghost had reappeared and so frightened the men that they had refused to work. Another story was set afloat that the bottom had fallen out of the pit, and the iron chest containing the treasure had sunk beyond recovery. The simple fact was that the cunning fellows never expected to find a dollar.
These strange stories agitated Nyack for several weeks, and under their influence Chapman so managed to divide opinion that Hanz had to bear the greater share of blame for bringing distress on the poor people. One and then another of his neighbors would chide him, and say it was all his fault that they had lost their money and had nothing to show for it but these worthless bits of paper.
To add to Hanz's troubles, Chapman entered his house one day, and openly reproached him for bringing distress on his friends. "You know you have done wrong, old man," said he, assuming the air of an injured man. "You would not have deceived me—no man would—but that I took you for a Christian. And when I take a man for a Christian I put faith in him. That's why I put faith in you. I believed you honest, you see."
Chapman's familiar and even rude manner surprised and confounded Hanz. In vain he protested his innocence, and offered to call the Dominie and Doctor Critchel to testify that he had never in his life wronged any man out of a shilling.
"You sold us something you had not got," continued Chapman, in an angry tone, "and in that you committed a fraud. Honest men don't do such things—never! Mr. Toodlebug. I thought you were a friend; but you have deceived me—have deceived us all!"
The plot was now beginning to develop itself, and Hanz for the first time began to see what a singular chain of adverse circumstances Chapman had drawn around him. Never before in his life had a man openly charged him with doing wrong. Angeline was even more troubled than Hanz, and listened with fear and trembling to the words as they fell from Chapman's lips. What could have worked this change in a person who had so recently expressed such friendship for them? Her pure, unsuspecting soul would not permit her to entertain the belief that her husband could do wrong. She attempted to speak and enquire what this strange and unaccountable scene meant; but her eyes filled with tears, her face became as pale as marble, and her resolution failed her. Her little, happy home had been rudely invaded, and a grasping, avaricious enemy had shown himself where she expected to find a friend.
"I don't want to distress you, Mr. Toodlebug, I don't," said Chapman, keeping his keen eyes fixed on Hanz. "I don't want to distress you, I don't. But you must show that you are an honest man. Honesty is the best policy. I've always found it so, at least. You must make this thing all right, if it takes all you have to do it." When he had said this he put on his hat and rudely took his departure.
"Angeline, mine Angeline," said Hanz, "if dish bat man should make me loose mine goot name, den mine life it pees very misherable. What I toes I toes t' oplige t' gentleman. How I toes wish mine Tite, mine poor poy Tite, vas here." He sat thoughtfully in his chair for several minutes, then sought consolation for his wounded feelings in a pipe.
Chapman had not been long gone when Mattie came rolicking into the house, as if to form a bright and sunny contrast with the scene that had just ended. She carried a little basket in her hand, was dressed in a flowing white skirt and sack, wore a broad sun hat encircled with a blue ribbon, and her golden hair was decorated with wild flowers. There was something so fascinating in that merry, laughing voice, something so pure, innocent, and girlish in that simple dress and that sweet, smiling face, that it seemed as if Heaven had ordained her to represent truth and goodness. Setting the basket down on the table she ran to Angeline, embraced and kissed her, not perceiving that trouble had depressed that good woman's spirits.
"And you, too, good Father Hanz," she said, turning to him, and saluting him in her free, frank manner; "you shall have a kiss, too." And she took his hand and imprinted a kiss on his cheek.
She suddenly discovered that something was the matter, paused, and looked at Angeline with an air of surprise. Her first thought was that they had received bad news from Tite, which they were trying to conceal from her. Almost unconsciously her gentle nature began to beat in sympathy with Angeline's, and a tear stole slowly down her cheek. "You have heard from Tite; is he sick? have you heard bad news?" she inquired, in rapid succession, as she watched every change in Angeline's features.
Angeline shook her head, and looked up sweetly but sorrowfully in Mattie's face. "Nothing, nothing, my good child," she replied, kissing Mattie's hand. But there was the tear of sorrow writing its tale on her cheek. "God will bless and protect our Tite," she resumed; "but we have heard nothing from him since the letter you saw."
"I am so glad," rejoined Mattie, her face lighting up with a sweet smile. "I think about him every day, and I know he thinks about me. So, now, mother Angeline, you must cheer up. You will, won't you? It won't do to be sad when Tite is away." And, after patting Angeline on the shoulder and kissing her cheek, "you shall see, now," she resumed, bringing forward the basket, "what nice presents I have brought for you, Mother Angeline. Made these all with my own hands."
Here the happy, smiling girl drew from her basket a number of frills and wristlets, a worsted-worked candle mat, and a cambric handkerchief, in one corner of which she had ingeniously worked Angeline's name. "They are all for you, Mother Angeline, all for you," she said, tossing them one after another into her lap. "You are so good. Keep them all until Tite comes home. Then you can show them to him as a proof of what a true and good girl I have been."
Hanz viewed this act of kindness on the part of Mattie with an air of surprise and astonishment. It was in such beautiful contrast to her father's rudeness and severity that he was at a loss how to account for it.
"Vel, vel!" exclaimed Hanz, raising his hands, "you pees sho goot a gal as I ever did she. Yes, mine shild, I never shees no petter gals as you pees." And he rose from his chair, and approaching Mattie, patted her on the shoulder encouragingly. "You pees such a goot girl," he repeated, "and you will pe mine goot friend, eh?"
"Certainly I will. Why should I be anything else?" replied Mattie, looking up smilingly in his face.
Hanz shook his head. "It pees sho now as nopody can shay who pees his friend, and who pees not his friend. I pees sho glad you pees mine friend."
"I should like to know, Father Hanz, what troubles you?" resumed Mattie, whose quick eye read in his face the trouble that was making his heart sad. "Tell me what troubles you, Father Hanz, and I will be a friend to you, no matter who it is."
"Mine shilds," replied the old man, drooping his head, "dar vas un man, he shay as he pees mine goot friend. Dat friend he pees mine enemy. He prings shorrow into mine house. Unt he prings dat shorrow when mine poor Tite he pees sho far away as I ton't know where he is."
Tears again filled the old man's eyes as he spoke, and he paused, shook his head, and buried his face in his hands. There was something in the old man's unwillingness to disclose who it was that had caused him this trouble that excited Mattie's suspicions.
"You must tell me, Father Hanz," said she, encircling his neck with her right arm and patting him on the cheek encouragingly and affectionately with her left hand, "who has caused you all this trouble."
Hanz looked up earnestly and enquiringly into her face. Still there was a doubt in that look it was impossible to mistake.
"You ton't know, eh? you ton't know, eh? Maype as he is petter as you ton't know, mine shild. T' man what prings shorrow into mine house; t' man what shays I pees one tief t' mine neighpors—dat man he pees no friend of mine." Again the old man paused, and looked up inquiringly into Mattie's sweet face, as if anxious to trace the secret of her thoughts. And as he did so the breeze tossed the grey hairs over his forehead, as if to cover up the wrinkles age had written on it.
"Mine taughter, mine taughter," he resumed, grasping Mattie's hand firmly, "I'se gettin' old now. Tare von't pe no more of old Hanz Toodleburg shoon. You never know'd nothin' pad of old Hanz Toodleburg—does you, mine taughter?"
"Never, never! Why, Father Hanz, nobody has been saying anything against you," replied Mattie, smiling.
"Dar has, too," resumed Hanz. "What I lives for now is mine goot name, and mine poor Tite. I pees a friend to everypody what needs a friend, and now what I needs mineshelf is one goot friend. You she, mine taughter, if mine little farm he pees gone, and if mine sheep, and mine cows, and mine everything pees gone, den der is nothin' for mine Tite when he comes home."
The old man paused for a moment. It was impossible for him to keep the secret of his trouble from Mattie any longer. He opened his heart to her and disclosed the fact that it was her own father who had brought sorrow into his home. Yes, it was her father who had led him like a child into trouble, and then thrown around his acts such a chain of suspicious circumstances that you could scarcely find a man in the village, where but a short time ago Hanz was so great a favorite, who did not believe him guilty of inventing the Kidd Discovery Company, and bringing ruin and distress on his neighbors. There was the paper Hanz had signed, setting forth that he possessed the secret of where Kidd's treasure was buried, and bearing the proof that he had sold it for a consideration. Chapman understood the value of this, and went about the village showing it as a proof that there was at least one man innocent, and that man was himself. There, too, was the old story that had clung to him through life—that he knew all about Kidd, his father having sailed with him on the Spanish Main. And there was the expedition up the river, in which he had played so prominent a part.
Chapman well understood the effect these things would have on the minds of the ignorant and superstitious, and he turned them against Hanz with such skill as to completely get the better of him. In short, he would assert his innocence with so much plausibility that the simple-minded settlers began to believe him the saint he set himself up for, and Hanz the sinner who had got all their money.
Mattie heard this strange declaration made by Hanz against her father with feelings of sorrow and surprise. She hung down her head and remained silent for some time, for her mind was bewildered with strange and exciting thoughts. Then, looking up, she said:
"Cheer up, don't be sad, Father Hanz. You will always find a friend in me. My father shall also be your friend. We are going to leave Nyack, but I will come and see you, and be your friend. Don't think bad of my father, and he shall yet be your friend." And she kissed Angeline and Hanz and bid them good bye.
Mattie had never for a moment entertained the thought that her father would knowingly wrong these old people. Her heart was too pure, her nature too trusting, to entertain a suspicion of wrong. She had seen him engaged in transactions she did not understand; she had seen him associate with men she did not like, but she never enquired what his motive for so doing was. How he became acquainted with, and what his business with Topman and Gusher was, had been a mystery to her. The object was clear enough to her now. The conversation she had overheard one night between her father and Topman, relative to a meeting at Hanz's house, and getting him to sign a paper purporting to sell them a secret, was all explained. This conversation put a powerful weapon in her hand, and if used skilfully she could save her father from trouble and also protect old Hanz. Indeed, her mind ran back over a train of curious circumstances, which now became clearer and clearer, and when linked together discovered the object they were intended to effect. There was no mistaking the motive. Still, like a true and loving daughter, she saw her father only in the light of innocence and truth. The more she contemplated the matter the more sincerely did she believe him an instrument in the hands of Topman and Gusher, of whose designs she had heard others speak.