“I’m glad to find some one,” said he, “who places the responsibility for trouble where it belongs. I’m round-shouldered with the blame I’ve had to bear. I didn’t invent sin any more than I invented the telephone, and I think it’s rather rough on a fellow who lived a quiet, retiring, pastoral life, minding his own business and staying home nights, to be held up to public reprobation for as long a time as I have.”
“It’ll be all right in time,” said Raleigh; “just wait—be patient, and your vindication will come. Nobody thought much of the plays Bacon and I wrote for Shakespeare until Shakespeare ’d been dead a century.”
“Humph!” said Adam, gloomily. “Wait! What have I been doing all this time? I’ve waited all the time there’s been so far, and until Mr. Barnum spoke as he did I haven’t observed the slightest inclination on the part of anybody to rehabilitate my lost reputation. Nor do I see exactly how it’s to come about even if I do wait.”
“You might apply for an investigating committee to look into the charges,” suggested an American politician, just over. “Get your friends on it, and you’ll be all right.”
“Better let sleeping dogs lie,” said Blackstone.
“I intend to,” said Adam. “The fact is, I hate to give any further publicity to the matter. Even if I did bring the case into court and sue for libel, I’ve only got one witness to prove my innocence, and that’s my wife. I’m not going to drag her into it. She’s got nervous prostration over her position as it is, and this would make it worse. Queen Elizabeth and the rest of these snobs in society won’t invite her to any of their functions because they say she hadn’t any grandfather; and even if she were received by them, she’d be uncomfortable going about. It isn’t pleasant for a woman to feel that every one knows she’s the oldest woman in the room.”
“Well, take my word for it,” said Raleigh, kindly. “It’ll all come out all right. You know the old saying, ‘History repeats itself.’ Some day you will be living back in Eden again, and if you are only careful to make an exact record of all you do, and have a notary present, before whom you can make an affidavit as to the facts, you will be able to demonstrate your innocence.”
“I was only condemned on hearsay evidence, anyhow,” said Adam, ruefully.
“Nonsense; you were caught red-handed,” said Noah; “my grandfather told me so. And now that I’ve got a chance to slip in a word edgewise, I’d like mightily to have you explain your statement, Mr. Barnum, that I am responsible for your errors. That is a serious charge to bring against a man of my reputation.”
“I mean simply this: that to make a show interesting,” said Mr. Barnum, “a man has got to provide interesting materials, that’s all. I do not mean to say a word that is in any way derogatory to your morality. You were a surprisingly good man for a sea-captain, and with the exception of that one occasion when you—ah—you allowed yourself to be stranded on the bar, if I may so put it, I know of nothing to be said against you as a moral, temperate person.”