"Ashton," said Mr. Rumsey, his host, one morning, "this is the thing which will just suit you, if you can secure it," and he handed a copy of the _Daily Globe_ to Ashton, at the same time pointing to an advertis.e.m.e.nt which read as follows: "A good managing clerk wanted for a dry goods and clothing establishment in the town of Bayton. He must be a man of matured experience.

Apply Box 152, Post Office."

"That will just suit me," said Ashton. "What is the distance to Bayton?"

"About ninety miles. I suppose you think of applying personally? I should advise you by all means to do so."

Ashton immediately set about making the necessary preparation, and next morning started for the above-mentioned town, upon which journey we will leave him for the present.

CHAPTER VII.

MR. AND MRS. GURNEY.

Mr. and Mrs. Gurney sat in their cosy sitting-room, which was plainly but tastefully furnished; but though quiet, one could not fail to realize that it was the home of people of more than ordinary intelligence and culture. They both had pa.s.sed life's meridian, and were, at the time we introduce them to our readers, verging upon three score years. They were dressed in deep mourning, and the look of subdued sadness which overcast their thoughtful faces told they had lately "pa.s.sed under the rod." But suffering had not made them hard and cynical, but richer in grace and goodness, riper, sweeter, mellower. Each had learned to say with Asaph, "My flesh and my heart faileth, but G.o.d is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever."

They certainly had reason to mourn. G.o.d had blessed them with four children; children of whom they had just cause to be proud, for they early displayed talents which marked them as above mediocrity, but one after another, just after they had reached manhood and womanhood, they had fallen victims to that insidious disease, consumption, and the aged couple were left in their declining years, sad and lonely, like two aged trunks stript of their foliage, bare and alone.

Mr. Gurney had been for years engaged in the dry goods and clothing trade, and had intended his last surviving son should take the business, but Providence had ordered otherwise, taking him away just at the time when the father was about to carry out his long cherished scheme.

After they had laid in the grave the body of their beloved, for a while a cloud of intense sorrow hung over their home, though they had faith to believe it was lined with the silver of their Father's love.

They were too intelligent, and their grief was too intense for much outward manifestation, but each knew the pregnancy of the other's sorrow from their individual experiences; and by gentle ministrations of love each endeavored to soothe and ease the burdened heart of the other.

Mrs. Gurney found some relief in attending to her household duties--to the plants and flowers in the conservatory--for they had one of considerable size. This latter had been the special duty of her daughter who had preceded her brother by a few weeks to the grave. And as the mother now engaged in this "labor of love," each plant and flower that received her gentle attention would suggest some tender recollection of the loved and lost. As she trained them to their supports and trellises she would remember that the white fingers which had so frequently and lovingly performed the task were now cold in death.

But there was one--a night blooming cereus--which was a particular favorite of Grace's, and which, even after she knew she had not long to live, she hoped she would be spared to see bloom. But when she perceived she was failing so rapidly--quietly, peacefully, sinking to rest--she said--

"Mamma, darling, I have looked forward with a great deal of expectancy to the time when my cereus should bloom, I now know my hope in this respect will not be realized, but I want you, mother, when it opens out its pure white petals and its fragrance perfumes the midnight air to remember I shall be in heaven--among fairer flowers, with sweeter perfume; for they have not been cursed by sin. And while you mourn at my absence remember I am with Jesus-- 'Absent from the body, present with the Lord.'"

And now as the mother tended these flowers, and lovingly lingered near this special favorite, around which such tender memories lingered, the flood-gates of her soul were mercifully lifted up and she "eased her poor heart with tears."

Thus the mother, who was const.i.tutionally the frailer of the two, and was the one from whom the children had inherited the tendency to the disease which had carried them off so prematurely, seemed to come back to herself, so to speak, and she soon manifested a subdued cheerfulness as she set about managing the domestic economy of her home.

But Mr. Gurney did not recover so rapidly; there seemed to be no outlet to his feelings--nothing to ease his burdened heart.

He had given his business into the hands of his clerks, and had concluded to sell out and permanently retire from active life. He went with his wife on a journey to the seaside, to a quiet watering-place, hoping that change of scene might divert his attention from his sorrows and enable him, at least to some extent, to recover his wonted health and spirits. But he returned unbenefited, and his wife and friends began to have grave fears for his life. They consulted an eminent physician, who advised him not to give up his business, but to devote to it as much of his attention as his strength would permit; and this advice coinciding with his own judgment, he concluded to act upon it; but as none of his employees hardly came up to his ideal of what a managing clerk should be, he thought he had better advertise for a responsible man, who thoroughly understood the business, and who could keep the books, while he could do the buying and attend to the outlying duties of the firm.

It was in accordance with this idea that he inserted the advertis.e.m.e.nt in the _Globe_ which brought Richard Ashton to answer in person.

CHAPTER VIII.

ASHTON MEETS WITH FRIENDS AND SECURES A SITUATION.

"Have you received any answer to your advertis.e.m.e.nt, dear?" asked Mrs. Gurney of her husband.

"Yes, dear, I received a telegram this morning from a man who lives in L----, who said he thought he would suit me. He stated he could give first-cla.s.s references, and that he had been in the business from a boy. He also stated he would make personal application, and would take the next train for this place: so I am expecting him on the 7 o'clock. I left word with Johnson to drive him here, and he may arrive at any moment."

"But, my dear," said his wife, "is it not rather risky for him to come? You may not like his appearance, and if even in this respect everything is satisfactory, his credentials may not be so."

"I am sure I cannot help that," replied Mr. Gurney. "I did not state in the advertis.e.m.e.nt that parties who wished to engage should make personal application, and I have no doubt but I shall receive applications by letter. If individuals come from a distance to apply, it must be at their own risk."

Their conversation was here interrupted by the ringing of the door-bell, and in a moment after the servant reported that a Mr.

Ashton wished to see Mr. Gurney.

"That is the name of the person in question," Mr. Gurney remarked.

"Show him in, Sarah;" and in a moment after Ashton was ushered into their presence.

"Mr. Gurney, I presume," he said, with that ease and grace that good breeding and familiarity with good society alone gives to a man.

"I sent you a telegram," Ashton continued, "making application for the situation, in answer to your advertis.e.m.e.nt; and I have now come in person, as I stated I would."

Mr. Gurney, who had risen, extended to him his hand--then introduced him to his wife, and in a few moments, by his cordial reception, made him completely at his ease.

His appearance, and, still more, his manner, impressed Mr. and Mrs. Gurney favorably, and they both concluded he was a very intelligent person.

He produced his credentials, which were highly satisfactory; but Mr. and Mrs. Gurney were too keen observers not to notice the marks of dissipation which his two weeks' debauch had stamped upon his face. The former, however, possessed too much of the courtesy which distinguishes the true gentleman to give utterance to a word which would wound even the most sensitive person, if he could do his duty and avoid it. Though, if it lay in the way of his duty, he immediately entered into its performance, but in the least offensive manner possible.

He said to Richard Ashton, in his most kindly tone: "You will pardon me, I am sure, for asking you another question. I would not do so only it is necessary that I should exercise the utmost caution in order that I may secure a person who has not only ability and experience, but who also is a man of good character and temperate habits--who, in short, would be every way reliable.

Pardon me if I ask, in all kindness, would you in every respect till up my requirements?"

This was a plain question, put with the most gentle courtesy, but yet in a straightforward manner; and if Ashton had wished in any way to equivocate, he felt he could not do so without utterly destroying his chances of employment. To do him justice, however, let us state he never, even for a moment, entertained a thought of so doing. He felt he was being weighed in the balance, and would probably be found wanting, but he resolved he would not endeavor to bring down the scale in his favor, either by equivocation or dealing in untruths. In fact, he immediately concluded to make a clean breast of it, and give him, in as few words as possible, a history of his life, and then leave him to deal with his case.

Acting upon this thought, he in a few moments graphically and pathetically told his sad story.

"I will not ask you to decide to-night," he said after he had finished, "but if it is agreeable to you I will call in the morning. I would like you would give me a decided answer by that time if possible, and," he added, "if you conclude to engage me I will endeavor so to devote myself to your interest as never to give you cause to regret it."

Mr. Gurney immediately agreed to this arrangement, as he thought it would be better to have a few hours to carefully consider the matter, and to talk it over with his wife. In fact, he had been so much wrought upon by the sad recital, as to entirely unfit him for a calm and judicious consideration of the business in hand. So, making an appointment for the next day at 9 a.m., he saw Ashton to the door, and bade him good night.

Ashton, as he walked rapidly away, was very despondent. He had but slight hope of securing the situation; for, he reasoned to himself, had a person of similar character come to him seeking a position, when he was in business, no matter how much he might sympathise with him he never would have thought of engaging him.

He wisely determined, however, to hope for the best. He was sure he would like the situation, for he had formed a very high opinion of Mr. Gurney. He considered him a very superior person--cultured, but plain, and practical, and it was because he knew he possessed the latter attribute he had no hopes of being engaged.

But had he been capable of reading Mrs. Gurney's mind, and could he also have known the influence she possessed over her husband, he would not have been so despondent. His story had not been half told before she had been so affected by its touching pathos as to be unable to repress her tears, and before he had finished she had resolved she would exert all the influence she possessed over her husband to persuade him to take Ashton on trial; for she felt it would be a n.o.ble thing to aim at the redemption of this man from evil, and to give help, hope, and joy to his wife and children, of whom he had spoken so tenderly.

"Well, Martha," said Mr. Gurney, after Ashton had departed, "would it be safe for us to employ him?"

He asked this in all sincerity; for he was a man who consulted his wife in relation to all his business affairs. He said, "he looked upon marriage as a partnership, the wife being an interested member of the firm." And as he firmly believed this, he made it a rule never to enter into any business transaction without seeking her counsel, in regard to it, and he boasted that some of the best hits he had made in business had been the outcome of acting upon her advice.

"Well, my dear," she said in answer to his question, "I am strongly in favor of giving him a chance. He is certainly a man of more than ordinary intelligence, and he could not have that ease and grace of manner which he possesses in so eminent a degree had he not a.s.sociated with the best society. It is certainly a great pity he has become a victim of strong drink, but, then, if he had not he would never have applied for the situation."

"But, Martha," interjected Mr. Gurney, "do you think it would be in conformity with sound wisdom to engage him after the confession he has made?"

"Yes, James, I really do, and one of the strongest reasons for my thinking so is because of that confession. If he had protested he had not been drinking, as most men in his circ.u.mstances would have done, then I should have opposed your engaging him, but he was so straightforward that he has certainly enlisted my sympathy in his favor; and then I really think G.o.d guided him here. We have always been advocates of temperance, and if there is one thing more than any other for which I feel like praising Him, it is because he has enabled us to deliver some of our fellow-mortals from lives of intemperance, and it may be, some from drunkard's graves. But this has been done without any great sacrifice upon our parts--that is, we have not had to run any great risk. Now we are placed in different circ.u.mstances, and we have an opportunity of possibly saving one of our fellow-creatures if we are only willing to risk a little trouble and loss in order to accomplish our object. Now, don't you think, James, the Lord has sent him here just to try us?"