“A very eccentric man indeed, remarkably so, for a kindly, honest man,” thought Mr Jack; but he only said, “I came here to consult you about the investment of two thousand pounds—”
“Oh! indeed,” said Mr Black, in quite an altered tone, as he rose and politely offered his visitor a chair.
“But,” continued Mr Jack, rebuttoning his greatcoat which he had partly opened, “but, sir, I have changed my mind, and bid you good-day.”
So saying, he went out, leaving Mr Black standing at the door in stupid amazement and his dirty clerk agonising with suppressed laughter behind his desk. Mr Black had been groaning and growling all the day at the thoughts of the ruin which had overtaken him—thoughts which were embittered by the knowledge that he had drawn it on himself through the instrumentality of Mrs Niven. The climax of Mr Jack’s visit did not tend to restore him. Recovering from his amazement, and observing the condition of the clerk, he suddenly hurled the cash-book at him. Cleverly dodging it, the dirty little creature bolted from the office, and banged the door behind him.
Meanwhile Mr Jack cashed his last bill of exchange, returned home, and presented his wife with a bag of gold, which she deposited in the darkest recesses of the great family chest.
“That bank gives no interest,” said John Jack, with a quiet chuckle, as he superintended the deposit, “but we shall always have the interest of knowing that it is there.”
Long afterwards Mr Wilkins sought to combat Mr Jack’s objection to invest in another Scotch bank. “This disaster,” he said, “ought not to be called a bank failure; it is a bank robbery committed by its own directors, as has been clearly proved, and no more touches the credit of Scotch banks in general than the failure of a commercial house, through the dishonesty of its principals, affects the other commercial houses of the kingdom.”
“It may be as you say, sir,” replied John Jack, gravely, “an’ if it was my own money I might act on your advice. But I intend to take care of what’s left of the dear boy’s money myself.”
So saying, the stout farmer threw his shepherd’s plaid over his shoulder, and went off to his cottage on the Border.
But we must pass from this subject. Space forbids our going deeper into it, or touching on the terrible consequences of dishonesty coupled with unlimited liability. Fortunes were wrecked; the rich and the poor, the innocent and guilty, the confiding and the ignorant as well as the knowing and wise, fell in the general crash. Many homes were desolated, and many hearts were broken. May we not believe, also, that many hearts were purified in passing through the furnace of affliction!