[CHAPTER XXVII.]
ELIZABETH'S GRIEVANCES.
IT was quite true that Walter Wilson's state of health seemed to improve during his prolonged sojourn in his native place. But it was not his home now—(where, indeed, was his home?)—and he was after a short time made to feel, in a certain sort of way, that his visit had been sufficiently extended. I daresay if he had chosen to reveal in full the state of his worldly affairs, he would have been made more welcome than he was to the hospitalities of Low Beech. But to gratify a whim of his own, or for some other reason, he kept this knowledge locked up in his own breast, except so far as he had shared it with his confidential man of business.
So, in the end, notwithstanding the hopes he had at first raised at Low Beech, it came to be considered that Walter was come home no better than he went out, or perhaps rather worse than better.
There are other vices in the world besides those that brand all those who practise them with disrepute, and eventually with infamy. Mark Wilson, as we have seen, gave himself up to the love of drink, adding drunkenness to thirst, till he brought himself to poverty, disgrace, ruin, and death. On the other hand, Matthew Wilson, sober, industrious; plodding, highly respectable, and positively fancying that God was pleased with him, and was rewarding him by increasing his property, gave himself up to the love of money, adding penny to penny and pound to pound, till he had the repute of being wealthy, and was lauded accordingly; for "men will praise thee when thou doest well to thyself."
But covetousness is no less a vice than intemperance. It is equally detestable in God's sight, and its effects on the human soul are equally debasing. Its effect on Matthew's soul was to destroy, or at least to weaken, natural affection, and to make him calculate, after a while, how much it was costing him to entertain his son; just as he knew, almost to a fraction, how much in money value was consumed, day by day, by each inmate in his house. No doubt he was glad when Walter, whom he had thought long dead, unexpectedly made his appearance; and, for a time, his detestable (I beg pardon, his most respectable) vice of avarice (for he was avaricious as well as covetous) was held in abeyance.
But when a full month had elapsed, and the returned son gave no sign of opulence, Matthew's ruling passion regained its sway. Here was Walter come back, most likely poor, in ill-health, and with a daughter for somebody to support. It was all very well for Mr. Tincroft to say what he had said about nobody needing to be troubled on that score, but who was to make Mr. Tincroft keep to his word when it came to the pinch?
The same feelings influenced other members of the family to a degree. Even the poor mother had been so accustomed to scrape together pence that, though Walter was her son, she felt uneasy when she thought of the possibility of having him to keep, nobody knew how long. And the brothers—well, they were pleased enough, no doubt—at least, they said they were—to see Walter again; and they made him welcome, after their fashion, at their several homes. But they knew what money was made of, and what it was made for, as well as most people; at least, they thought they did, and it would have done no good to try to convince them that they were altogether mistaken. And by this time they had come to the conclusion, each in his own mind, that Walter would be after wanting "some of the old man's money to take a farm with, or to set up in business with," and then there would be so much the less for them to share by-and-by. So their welcome at last became less cordial and more perforce.
The only one who did not share in these forebodings was the daughter and sister. Elizabeth had always been fond of her brother Walter; even when she, so many years ago, had so heartily and strenuously set herself to make mischief between him and their cousin Sarah, she honestly believed she was doing it for his good, and was attempting, in the only way she knew how, to undo the mischief which she at first had a hand in, when she believed her uncle Mark to have money, which Sarah would eventually inherit.