[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

“The boy must have some education, Ralph, if it is only
for appearance-sake. He knows nothing but what he gets
from poring over a set of musty old books of his father's.
Mercy knows what there is in them, I don't.”

“But Sukey has taught him a good deal—”

“Out of the New Testament, which she can't read, but
which he reads to her, and she expounds by the kitchen
fireside; but that is not exactly the kind of learning which
will be looked for in the son of a millionaire.”

“It is the kind most likely to be serviceable to him, if
half what the priests preach and you pretend to believe is
true. Education is of but little value to a boy who is in a
hopeless consumption.”

“Who says he is consumptive?”

“Doctor Lee says there is no doubt of it; that only the
greatest care can avert his fate even for a few years, and
that it will be almost a miracle if he lives to the age of
twenty-one.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Werter, for it need scarcely be
said that person and her husband were the colloquists, and
that Sidney was the subject of their remarks.

“Ah! twenty-one!”

There was an emphasis to those words which implied a
great deal—and the pause which followed was an expressive
one. It was interrupted by the wife.

“It would make a very great difference with us, if such

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

should prove to be the design of Providence. Would it
not?”

“Why do you ask?” returned her husband, gruffly.
“You know it would. It would make the difference of a
block of stores in the heart of the city—twenty-five firstclass
dwelling houses—and, better than all, a farm of five
hundred acres, which in a few years will be all city lots.
Difference, indeed! Instead of being under a million dollar
bond to keep all this safe for another, and to account
for all the income of it to another, it would all be mine!”

Ralph spoke crossly, as if he had been wronged in being
already kept out of it so long, and he was doubtless vexed
also by the cant of his wife, whose real feelings he well
knew to be quite in accordance with his own.

“Mr. Temple would be glad enough to get Eloise then,
wouldn't he?—and even Ruth and Ann, backward as they
are, would soon become belles—”

“Yes,” replied Ralph, sneeringly, “poor Ruth's red
hair would have a beautiful auburn tinge then, and Ann's
squint would become a slight and rather interesting obliquity
of vision.”

“Poor children!” exclaimed Mrs. Werter.

“A pretty bill of expenses they have been to me, with
all their French and flummery—and they are as far from
being `settled' now as ever. But for some people's extravagant
notions, I might perhaps have been as rich a
man as Hugh was—”

“Why you don't mean to say I have spent—”

“Not a million—nor a hundred thousand—nor a quarter
of that—but when a man's family expenses nearly equal
his income, he don't dare to risk money in speculation.
Yes, I might have been as rich as Hugh.”

“And have been what he is now, perhaps. What

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

difference does it make, as long as you are like to have it all in
another way?”

“Hush, here he comes.”

A thin, small boy, with handsome though very pale features,
and a downcast look, entered the room, and approached
timidly towards Ralph, as if expecting some communication
from him. He had, in fact, made bold to petition,
on several recent occasions, that he might be sent
to school, and, though frequently repulsed, he had manifested
a mild pertinacity in following up his design which
he had never exhibited on any other subject, and he had
now come into his guardian's presence to receive an answer,
which he had reason to expect that morning. Werter's
principal objection to the measure was the danger that a
free communication with other boys might lead to Sidney's
enlightenment on the subject of his property; but this he
knew could not be long kept from the lad without something
like positive durance, and as the symptoms of his
ward's disease grew stronger, he cared less for the preservation
of the secret. His opposition to Sidney's request
had, therefore, diminished.

Public opinion would doubtless require that the boy
should have at least a show of education, and if some convenient
country school could be found, still farther from the
city than his own residence, where there would be no danger
of meeting pupils from town, he was half inclined to
permit his nephew to attend it.

It was Sidney's request which had given rise to the discussion
just related, and which, as has been seen, was diverted
to another subject, and one more interesting to the
speakers, without any decision of the point in question.

“Well, Sid, is it the school again you come about?”
asked Ralph, roughly.

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

“Yes, sir,” replied the lad, in a very faint voice, looking
at the chair which his uncle sat in, but not at its occupant.

“Don't you think it rather a foolish way to spend your
money? You can read and write pretty well now, can't
you?”

“I can read pretty well, and write a little, but there are
a great many things I don't know that other boys do, and
Sukey thinks I ought to learn.”

“O, Sukey thinks so, does she? But the expense? I
am not going to pay for it, you know. It will have to
come out of your own little property, and you will have so
much the less when you become a man.”

“I know that, sir,” repiled the boy, quickly; “but I
think I would like to go, if there is enough. Sukey says
that poorer boys than I go to school and learn everything.”

“Ha! Perhaps Sukey thinks you can afford it very
well?” inquired Ralph, anxious to know whether his nephew's
sable friend, who was an old slave of Werter's, had
given him any hints about his possessions.”

“Sukey said that I owned houses, but I told her she
must be mistaken, because you would know it if I did; and
she said of course you would, and perhaps she was mistaken.
Other people have told me such things sometimes,
too, but I knew they did not know as much about it as you
did, because you were papa's own brother.”

Ralph winced a little, but replied—

“Of course not; and then they know nothing about your
father's large debts, and the mortgages on his property.”

Sidney sighed, and said “Of course.”

“As to the school, I think you may go, if there is any
good district school near us—that is, north of us—not towards
the city, for the boys in that direction are very bad,
especially the city boys, whom I have often warned you to
have nothing to do with. I will inquire about the schools.”

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

“I have inquired all about them long ago,” answered the
boy, quickly, being afraid of another long and indefinite
postponement of the subject. There are two within about
a mile of us, one north and the other south. I could easily
go to either. The walk is nothing—not as far as I used to
go for the cows.”

“Go to the north one,” replied Ralph, quickly, as if
tired of the subject, “and let me hear no more about it.”

Ungraciously as this consent was given, it still gave immeasurable
joy to Sidney, who was not long in availing
himself of his new privilege. The few cheap books necessary
for his purpose were procured for him without demur,
and within a few days after the present conversation he sat
out, unattended and unencouraged, to seek the scene of his
new hopes and aspirations.

The courage with which he had started gradually failed
as he drew near the school house, and when he arrived
there, it was in a state of trepidation which for a long time
prevented him from entering the door. There was no one
to introduce him to the dreaded “master,” or to make
known his wants—all was to be done by himself, a bashful,
backward boy, with his heart in his mouth, and his tongue
he knew not where, so utterly unable did he seem to articulate
a word. But he made a bold push, and found himself
just inside the school-door, with a sea of faces all
around him, and a hundred eyes burning into him, and a
hive-like hum of many blended voices ringing in his ears.
For a few moments, as he stood clinging to the door-handle,
with neither courage to advance or retreat, everything was
indistinct and confused to his perceptions, but he soon became
conscious of a bright, mild face peering upon him out
of the mist, and of a voice of perfect kindness addressing
him.

“This is a new scholar, I believe,” said Addison Jay,

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

advancing to meet the frightened boy. “I am happy to
see you, my lad—please to walk this way.”

This unexpected kindness completed the tumult of Sidney's
feelings, which now found relief in a hysteric sob and
a gush of tears, so violent, that the considerate tutor was
fain to draw him aside to a retired seat, and leave him unquestioned
until he should recover his equanimity.

But so long did the little stranger's emotion continue,
and so frightened did he appear whenever the teacher drew
near him, that Addison thought best to leave him undisturbed
until the noon recess, at which time they were left
quite alone by the retiring scholars, for Sidney did not
offer to withdraw with the others.

Little did Addison dream, as he sat down by the trembling,
timid boy, who did not dare to look him in the face,
that this was his rich cousin, so rich, that his income for a
single month would have been positive wealth to the poor
teacher—that this was the cousin whom he had supposed
so haughty and selfish in his affluence, that he had discarded
his once loved relations because they were poor.

Commiseration for the little invalid was depicted in
every line of the speaker's face—but he spoke in a cheerful
tone, hoping to infuse some courage in the heart of his
almost voiceless pupil.

“So you are going to become one of my scholars, are
you, young man?”

“Yes, sir—if you please.”

“What do you study?”

“I don't know, sir—I—I have never been to school
before.”

“Is it possible—how old are you?”

“Thirteen, sir.”

“Thirteen? Are you sure? You are very small for
that age.”

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

Addison could not believe that there were but three
years' difference in age between himself and the backward
child he was addressing.

“Yes, sir, I am sure. I have been ill, but I am better
now.”

“Where do your parents live?”

“I have no parents, sir; I live with my uncle and aunt.”

“Ah! yes!” replied Addison, in a tone of sympathy,
but in a tone, too, that said he began to understand why
the boy's education had been neglected.

A painful conviction flashed upon the tutor's mind that
the poor object before him had been otherwise neglected,
if he had not even been the victim of positive cruelty—but
he did not feel at liberty to question him on these points.

“What is your name?” he said.

“Sidney Werter.”

“What do you say?” exclaimed Addison, in a quick,
loud voice, springing to his feet and surveying the child
from head to foot, with a look of the most intense astonishment.

But his voice and manner frightened his companion beyond
the power of repeating his reply, and for a moment
Sidney was ready to faint with agitation.

“Do not be alarmed, my boy—you said your name
was —”

“S—Sidney, sir—Sidney Werter.”

“And was your father's name Hugh?—and is your uncle
named Ralph?—and is he also your guardian?”

Addison spoke rapidly, anxious to make certain of the
extraordinary fact which was thus disclosed to him.

“Yes, sir.”

A tumult of mingled emotions crowded into the young
man's mind, as he stood for a minute in silence, gazing
upon his unfortunate cousin. Pity for Sidney,

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

self-reproach for his own injustice towards him, indignation at
the wrongs which he felt certain he must have suffered
from his uncle, were prominent among these feelings—but
exceeding and surpassing them all, the strong tide of his
boyish affection for his cousin came rolling back upon his
heart, obliterating for the time all trace of other emotions.

“Sidney,” he said, with scarcely repressed emotion,
“do you remember when you were a little boy—before
your mother died—you had two little playmates, who were
your cousins—a little boy and a girl?”

“No—sir!” said the child, slowly, after a moment's
thought, and shaking his head in confirmation of the
dreary negative.

Unspeakable was Addison's pain at this reply.

“Oh! Siddy!” he exclaimed, with starting tears, and
seizing the wondering child's pale, thin hand, “is it possible
you have forgotten? Do you not remember a beautiful
garden, where you used to play with them, the flowers you
used to gather together, the butterflies you chased? Do
you not remember how you went strawberrying in summer,
and nutting in the fall?—and how you played blind-man's
buff on winter evenings in the large old kitchen?”

“I remember these things—a little,” replied Sidney,
with a perplexed look, as if endeavoring to recall the past—
“I know I had some playmates, but I have forgotten
who—for nobody has ever spoken to me about them. Do
you know them?”

“Ah, Siddy, Siddy, then you have quite forgotten your
Aunt Ellen, and your cousins, Addie and Lizzie.”

“Aunt Ellen—cousin Addie—cousin Lizzie—no—I begin
to remember. Oh, how long, how very long, since I
have heard those names. Did not cousin Lizzie have large
blue eyes, and a great many curls, and was not Addy a
tall, slim boy, very lively and full of fun?”

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

“Yes, you describe them well,” said Addison, with
breathless interest. “And your Aunt Ellen?”

“Oh, I remember her, a very beautiful woman, who
looked so much like the picture of mamma. Yes, I remember
now, and I know now how it is that I have not
thought of them in a great while. I used to love them,
but Uncle Ralph told me something bad about them, very
long ago, and would not let me go to see them; and afterward
I think he said they had moved away.”

“Is it possible that he could have so deceived you?”

“Why, sir, is it not true? Do you know them?”

In reply to this question, Addison briefly and eloquently
described to Sidney the character of his unknown relations,
saying but little of himself, but portraying his mother and
sister with the lavish language of affection. Hurriedly and
excitedly he told him of his cousins' great grief when their
intercourse with him was first interrupted—of their daily
hopes and disappointments, as they waited and looked for
a re-union with their loved playmate, and of the cruel message
mentioned by Lizzie, which had finally terminated
their hopes. He told him, too, how these his friends had
learned to believe that he was an unkind, hard-hearted
boy, who had willingly forsaken and renounced them.

Long before he had done speaking, the large tears were
coursing down Sidney's cheeks; but he seemed unconscious
of them, or of anything excepting the strange and affecting
story he was hearing.

The orphan boy, while possessing an eminently affectionate
disposition, had literally never known a friend since
his father's death, excepting the old slave who has been
named, and to whom he was strongly attached, and now
these tidings of relations and former friends, whose hearts
yearned towards him, and who were only estranged from
him because they thought that he did not care for them,

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

came upon him with overwhelming force, filling his heart
with new and strange sensations of bliss.

“And you know them, and will tell them all the truth,”
he said, as soon as he was able to speak—“and you will
take me with you to see them, if—if—” (a sudden cloud
came over his brightening features,) “if—Uncle Ralph
will allow me to go.”

“Sidney,” said Addison, still holding his cousin's hand,
“look at me. I am but a little more than three years
older than you, although I am so much larger. When you
were eight years of age, I was but eleven. Oh, Siddy,
Siddy, can you not guess?”

“That you are my cousin?” shouted Sidney, wild with
excitement, as he felt the arms of Addison, encircling him,
and drawing him closer and closer to his side. “O! how
very glad I am!”

The sobs of the boy, and the deep emotion of the young
man, for some time prevented further conversation.
When they became more calm, there was a world of questions
to be asked and answered on either side, and the
whole interval of recess elapsed before their reminiscences
were recounted or their explanations made.

After school hours the teacher accompanied Sidney part
of the way home, while they continued their earnest and
eager conversation, and planned schemes for the future,
full of bright and dazzling colors. How the tediousness of
teaching, and the weariness of study, were to be relieved
by their mutual companionship, and how blissful were all
their leisure hours to be rendered.

In some way, too, but how they knew not yet, they
hoped that Sidney might be permitted to accompany his
cousin in some of his weekly visits home, and renew the
long suspended intimacy of childhood with little Lizzie,
little now no longer, and with his aunt, who still cherished,

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

for her sister's sake, a deep regard for the motherless
boy.

Addison did not learn, what would have greatly astonished
him, that Sidney was quite ignorant of his immense
wealth, and he marvelled that, while half the valuable
farms which lay on either side of their long road belonged
absolutely to his little companion, not a word was said nor
an allusion made by him to the subject. He felt scarcely
at liberty himself to refer to this topic while his cousin was
silent upon it, and even if he had been so inclined, there
was another and more pressing subject which demanded attention
before parting.

There was every reason to believe that, if Sidney's guardian
should learn who was his nephew's teacher, he would
not only at once withdraw the boy from school, but that
he would probably take other means to prevent their meeting
again. Although solicitous beyond expression to avoid
this dreaded result, Addison's frank and honest nature revolted
at the idea of using any deceit even for a good end,
and it became a matter of extreme doubt whether the important
secret could be kept.

Their chief hope lay in Ralph's indifference to his ward's
interests, and in the thought that he might neglect to make
any inquiries about the school.

“If he asks the teacher's name?” said Sidney, anxiously,
as they discussed this nice question of ethics.

“Tell him it is Mr. Jay,” replied Addison—“I do not
think he will suspect.”

“But, oh! Addison, if he should suspect, and should inquire
if it is my cousin—”

“Tell him the truth,” replied the young man, boldly,
“and trust to the great Source of Truth for the result.”

Addison's conscientiousness was not even quieted by
these resolves. He feared that he ought to instruct the

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

boy to go at once to his uncle and tell him the whole story,
although unquestioned, and to be directed by him as his
legal guardian and adviser; but feeling certain that Ralph
had already wronged and deceived his ward, and believing
that he would not hesitate to do so again, when interest or
caprice dictated such a course, he thought that the plan he
had advised might be all that duty required.

The fear of distressing his cousin, the hopes of benefiting
him and making him happy, the many joyous hours
of future intercourse with him to which he looked forward,
combined to influence him in the resolution he had taken,
but could not carry him further.

Sidney's religious teachings had by no means been neglected,
for old Sukey was a devout Christian, but his moral
perceptions were less cultivated than his cousin's, and
he would have gone a little further, although not to the
telling of an untruth, to preserve his newly acquired happiness—
but he yielded readily to Addison's views, and a
deep sense of respect was added to his affection for his
cousin. The young companions parted about a third of a
mile from the home of Sidney, who proceeded the remainder
of the way alone, in great trepidation lest his prized
secret should be wrung from him. How eventful had been
the experience of the few past hours—how vast the teachings
of his first day at school.

p657-041

Previous section

Next section