It is one of those everlasting truths, which experience and life teach us every day, that sin brings its own punishment, virtue its own reward: peace, the great divine reward of conscience to the virtuous; misery and despair, and that constant apprehension which dreads discovery, and yet which in itself is worse than discovery, to the transgressors. "The way of transgressors is hard." That Bible text was proving itself once more now in the cases of two old men. John Harman was sinking into his grave in anguish at the thought of facing an angry God: Jasper Harman was preparing to fly from what, alas! he dreaded more, the faces of his angry fellow-creatures. Yes; it had come to this with Jasper Harman; England had become too hot to hold him; better fly while he could. Ever since the day Hinton had told him that he had really and in truth heard of the safe arrival of the other trustee, Jasper's days and nights had been like hell to him. In the morning, he had wondered would the evening find him still a free man; in the evening, he had trembled at what might befall him before the morning dawned. Unaccustomed to any mental anguish, his health began to give way; his heart beat irregularly, unevenly, he lost his appetite; at night he either had bad dreams or he could not sleep. This change began to tell upon his appearance; his hair grew thinner and whiter, he stooped as he walked, there was very little apparent difference now between him and John. He could not bear the Harmans' house, for there he might meet Hinton. He dreaded his office in the City, for there the other trustee might follow him and publicly expose him. He liked his club best; but even there he felt scarcely safe, some one might get an inkling of the tale, there was no saying how soon such a story, so strange, so disgraceful, pertaining to so well-known a house as that of Harman Brothers, might get bruited about. Thus it came to pass that there was no place where this wretched old man felt safe; it became more and more clear to him day by day that England was too hot to hold him. All these growing feelings culminated in a sudden accession of terror on the day that Charlotte, with her strangely changed face, had asked him the truth with regard to her father's case, when, with the persistence of almost despair, she had insisted on knowing the very worst; then had quickly followed the announcement that her marriage had been broken off by herself; that it was postponed, her father thought, simply for the short remaining span of his own life; but Charlotte had taken little pains to conceal from Uncle Jasper that she now never meant to marry Hinton. What was the reason of it all? Jasper Harman, too, as well as Hinton, was not deceived by the reason given. There was something more behind. What was that something more? In his terror and perplexity, Jasper opened Hinton's letter. One sentence in that letter, never meant for him, burnt into the unhappy man as the very fire of hell. "I went this morning to Somerset House, and I read your grandfather's will." Then Jasper's worst fears had come true; the discovery Jasper must leave England that very night. Never again could he enter his brother's house. He must fly; he must fly at once and in secret, for it would never do to take any one into his confidence. Jasper Harman had a hard and evil heart; he was naturally cold and unloving; but he had one affection, he did care for his brother. In mortal terror as he was, he could not leave that dying brother without bidding him good-bye. John Harman had not gone to the City that day, and when Charlotte left the room, Jasper, first glancing at the grate to make sure that Hinton's letter was all reduced to ashes, stole, in his usual soft and gliding fashion, to John's study. He was pleased to see his brother there, and alone. "You are early back from the City, Jasper," said the elder brother. "Yes; there was nothing to keep me this afternoon, so I did not stay." The two old men exchanged a few more commonplaces. They were now standing by the hearth. Suddenly John Harman, uttering a half-suppressed groan, resumed his seat. "It is odd," he said, "how the insidious something which men call Death seems to grow nearer to me day by day. Now, as we stood together, I felt just a touch of the cold hand; the touch was but a feather weight, but any instant it will come down like a giant on its prey. It is terrible to stand as I do, looking into the face of Death; I mean it is terrible for one like me." "You are getting morbid, John," said Jasper; "you always were given to look on the dismals. If you must die, as I suppose and fear you must, why don't you rouse yourself and enjoy life while you may?" To this John Harman made no answer. After a moment or two of silence, during which Jasper watched him nervously, he said;— "As you have come back so early from the City, can you give me two hours now? I have a great deal I want to say to you." "About the past?" questioned Jasper. "About the past." Jasper Harman paused and hesitated; he knew well that he should never see his brother again; that this was his last request. But dare he stay? Two hours were very precious, "Will two hours this evening do equally well, John?" "Yes, if you prefer it. I generally give the evening to Charlotte; but this evening, if it suits you better." "I will go now, then," said Jasper. "Charlotte has told you of her resolve?" "Yes, and I have spoken to her; but she is an obstinate minx." "Do not call her so; it is because of her love for me. I am sorry that she will not marry at once; but it is not, after all, a long postponement and it is I own, a relief, not to have to conceal my state of health from her." "It is useless arguing with a woman," said Jasper. "Well, good-bye, John." "Good-bye," said the elder Harman, in some surprise that Jasper's hand was held out to him. Jasper's keen eyes looked hard into John's for a moment. He wrung the thin hand and left the room. He had left for ever the one human being he loved, and even in his throat was a lump caused by something else than fear. But in the street and well outside that luxurious home, his love sank out of sight and his fear returned; he must get out of England that very night, and he had much to do. He pulled out his watch. Yes, there was still time. Hailing a passing hansom he jumped into it, and drove to his bank. There, to the astonishment of the cashier, he drew all the money he kept there. This amounted to some thousands. Jasper buttoned the precious notes into a pocket-book. Then he went to his lodgings and began the task of tearing up letters and papers which he feared might betray him. Hitherto, all through his life he had kept these things precious; but now they all went, even to his mother's portrait and the few letters she had written to him when a boy at school. Even he sighed as he cast these treasures into the fire and watched them being reduced to ashes; but though they had gone with him from place to place in Australia, and he had hoped never to part from them, he must give them up now, for, innocent as they looked, they might appeal against him. He must give up all the past, name and all, for was he not flying from the avengers? flying because of his sin? Oh! surely the way of transgressors was hard! |