“Why should I undertake a hopeless labour? It was only a vague dream; and if my good angel was anxious to appear to me, he might choose a night when I am not sleeping, which occurs but too frequently; but he has not troubled his head much about me; for if he had, I should not have been reduced, as I am now, to his shame, to beg my bread.”
Francis took from his pocket another piece of money, and gave it to the old man, saying, “Take this to procure half a pint of wine, and drink it ere you retire to rest. Your conversation has dispelled my sorrowful thoughts; do not fail to come regularly to this bridge, where I hope we shall meet again.”
The old lame man, not having for a long while made so good a day’s work, overwhelmed Francis with his grateful benedictions. They separated, and each went his way. Francis, whose joy was at its height from the near prospect of his hopes being realised, very speedily reached his lodging in the bye street.
The following day he ran to the purchaser of the little garden, and proposed to re-purchase it. The latter, to whom this property was of no particular value, and who, indeed, began to be tired of it, willingly consented to part with it. They very soon agreed as to the conditions of the purchase, and went immediately to sign the contract: with the money he had found in his bag, as a gift from the lord of Rummelsbourg, Francis paid down half the price: he then procured the necessary tools for digging a hole in the earth, conveyed them to the garden, waited till the moon was up, strictly adhered to the instructions given him by the old beggar, set to work, and without any unlucky adventure he obtained the hidden treasure.
His father, as a precaution against necessity, had buried this money, without any intention to deprive his son of this considerable portion of his inheritance; but dying suddenly, he had carried the secret to his grave, and nothing but a happy combination of circumstances, could have restored this lost treasure to its rightful owner.
The chest, filled with gold pieces, was too heavy for Francis to remove to his lodging without employing some person to assist him; and feeling unwilling to become a topic of general conversation, he preferred concealing it in the summer-house belonging to the garden, and fetching it at several times. On the third day the whole was safely conveyed to his lodging in the back street.
Francis dressed himself in the best possible style, and went to church to request that the priest would substitute for the prayers which had been previously offered up, a thanksgiving for the safe return of a traveller to his native country, after having happily terminated his business. He concealed himself in a corner, where, unseen, he could observe Meta. The sight of her gave him inexpressible delight, especially when he saw the beautiful blush which overspread her cheeks, and the brilliancy of her eyes, when the priest offered up the thanksgiving. A secret meeting took place, as had been formerly arranged: and so much was Meta affected by it, that any indifferent person might have divined the cause. Francis repaired to the Exchange, set up again in business, and in a very short time had enough to do; his fortune each succeeding day becoming better known, his neighbours judged that he had had greater luck than sense in his journey to collect his father’s debts. He hired a large house in the best part of the town, engaged clerks, and continued his business with laudable and indefatigable assiduity: he conducted himself with the utmost propriety and sagacity, and abstained from the foolish extravagances which had formerly been his ruin.
The re-establishment of Francis’s fortune formed the general topic of conversation. Every one was astonished at the success of his foreign voyage: but in proportion to the spreading fame of his riches, did Meta’s tranquillity and happiness diminish; for it appeared that the silent lover was now in a condition to declare himself, and yet he remained dumb, and only manifested his love by the usual rencontre on coming out of church; and even this species of rendezvous became less frequent, which appeared to evince a diminution of his affection.
Poor Meta’s heart was now torn by jealousy; for she imagined that the inconstant Francis was offering up his vows to some other beauty. She had experienced secret transports of delight on learning the change of fortune of the man she loved, not from interested motives and the wish to participate in his better fortune herself, but from affection to her mother, who, since the failure of the match with the rich brewer, absolutely seemed to despair of every enjoying happiness or comfort in this world. When she thought Francis faithless, she wished that the prayers put up for him in the church had not been heard, and that his journey had not been attended with such success; for had he been reduced to means merely sufficient to procure the necessaries of life, in all probability he would have shared them with her.
Mother Bridget failed not to perceive her daughter’s uneasiness, and easily guessed the cause; for she had heard of her old neighbour’s surprising return, and she knew he was now considered an industrious, intelligent merchant: therefore she thought if his love for her daughter was what it ought to be, he would not be thus tardy in declaring it; for she well knew Meta’s sentiments towards him. However, feeling anxious to avoid the probability of wounding her daughter’s feelings, she avoided mentioning the subject to her; but the latter, no longer able to confine her grief to her own bosom, disclosed it to her mother, and confided the whole to her.