"But must my farm go to pay those notes?" asked Fabens, turning still whiter in the face, and sweating almost blood. "My farm, that I have worked so hard for? my comfortable home? Must it go, and leave us destitute now as old age comes in sight? It is hard to think of these things. And what will my poor wife say? and how can she endure this trouble? I will pay the notes, if it takes all I have, and the coat from my back, in the bargain; but I beg you don't sue me. I never was sued in my life. Don't injure my character, or make me unnecessary cost."
Everything proved just as they informed him, and he went home heavy-hearted, to relate what he had heard. Mrs. Fabens and Fanny were deeply grieved by the thought, that he stood so largely liable on Fairbanks' account. But they bore the shock with a composure, which comforted Fabens greatly; and such hopefulness had ever been the blessing of them all, before another week, they had nearly recovered from the first agitation, and begun to contrive how they should manage to make the best of the misfortune.
It was nothing against their firm religious faith in overruling Good, nor against their fortitude, or self-reliance, to say that at first they yielded to agitations and griefs. It would have been unnatural in them not to be moved. For the present it was a calamity which they must suffer. Their old farm was dear to them, every acre of it. To its woods and waters; to its fine pastures and green meadows; its generous fruit-trees and grateful shade-trees, they were tenderly attached, looking upon them with family affection; and how could an item of that sweet home be spared? They doubted not but God would control the event for good; but it could not displease him to behold this feeling in his children. How could they adjust their faith to the event and be resigned so suddenly? It was hard to bear the stroke. It cut to the tender quick, and they shuddered and wept. It was hard to think the unworthy should be agents, to bring the disguised blessing which would follow such a woe. Hard to be deceived by those in whom so many confided with such pure and magnanimous trust.
But they were not immoderate in their grief. The deception might have been deeper, and the loss more alarming and great. And then what was their grief at that hour, compared with the misery that must gnaw at the hearts of the deceivers, as inseparable from their guilt. What gift in the wide world would tempt them to exchange places with the wretched creatures? What a thorny road of perdition must their way of life be! How they must whiten and gasp, and what poignant pangs must thrill them through and through when they remembered their villainous deeds!
And then they remembered how thankful they should be, that the designs of the criminals on Fanny had failed even of their first success, while they wept to hear of the shame in which more than one poor victim had been left; that they lost no confidence in George Ludlow; and none of their family had been made less virtuous by them.
Fabens remembered his schemes of benevolence, and his project of a new church and minister, without regret; but he crimsoned with blushing shame, as he confessed the foolish idea to which they forced him to listen, in regard to selling the old homestead and becoming a merchant. "Just as though it could be possible for us to be as happy as we are, in another sphere of life!" said he. "What in the world do I want to make me happy and respectable, except more faith and goodness, and the means to confer more good, that I did not possess before the scoundrels came? I wonder that Matthew Fabens allowed them to make him such a silly fool!" But it was long before he told them the dreams he indulged in his Week of Castle Building.
They counselled together: with returning resignation and confidence, they counselled.
"A thousand dollars!—a thousand!" said Fabens, with a long-drawn sigh. "That is a large debt for me to owe—a large one! I must see how I can settle it. I cannot bear to be in debt, even on another's account. I must not sit down and give up. I cannot rest very well till I do something to square it. He said they wouldn't sue me. I never was sued, and I could not bear to be. But I have only about a hundred dollars, and where can I raise the rest? The debt is a round thousand in all."
"I do not know. It really looks dark before us after all," said Mrs. Fabens. "A thousand dollars does not grow on every bush. I see no way, but a slice of the farm must go, and a pretty large slice too; and that will be very hard. How much is the whole farm worth?"
"It ought to fetch six thousand, five hundred," said Fabens. "Six thousand I've been offered for it, time and again."