Part 6 (1/2)
”Will you stay here and argue until morning when the guards will take you below to let you swing for your folly!” muttered Jonas, now thoroughly exasperated. ”You and I and the world know that not even Sir Henry himself believes the charges brought against you at your trial. It was only when that young Frenchman escaped two months ago and one of Sir Henry's ready spies betrayed you, that you were clapped into his cell to face charges in his court. I warned you then how it would be and you would not heed my words. Now let me save you before it is too late.”
”But my wife and little son,” murmured Salomon, as the other adjusted the heavy shawl about his shoulders. ”Who will care for them?”
”You can send for them when you have found shelter. And if you stay and are hanged, who will protect them?” He pushed the large bonnet upon Salomon's head, nodding with satisfaction to see how it concealed his face. ”Now, remember, say nothing and try to walk slowly--no, no, shorter steps! And put the basket on your arm.” He stepped back to admire the result of his scheming. ”Mr. Salomon,” he said, seriously, ”if I did not know that my good wife was waiting for me outside I would swear she stood before me. Come, take my arm,--remember, walk slowly--” and the two pa.s.sed out into the sultry August night.
The Revolutionary War was over, and young Louis di Vernon, still very much of a boy despite the down upon his lip and the manly a.s.surance achieved by almost seven years hard soldiering, leaned back in the shabby arm chair and looked questioningly at his host across the table. Since his escape from the old Provost, he had often heard tales of Haym Salomon's great wealth, the magnificent sums he had lent the government, his generosity toward the nation's unpaid representatives, especially his young friend Madison. And yet this man of almost fabulous wealth, this patriot who with his business partner, Robert Morris, had made it possible to feed and clothe Was.h.i.+ngton's starving and naked soldiers, this financier who had negotiated loans with Holland and France, now sat before him, meanly dressed, his brows wrinkled with care, his drooping shoulders too expressive of defeat for one who had helped his country win a glorious victory.
”It is good to see you again,” said Haym, slowly. ”I have not forgotten you, but I thought you might have forgotten me.” He coughed, a hard, dry cough, leaning his fast graying head upon his hand.
”We are used to having our friends forget us,” murmured his wife, who sat sewing beside the lamp. She was a brisk, dark-haired woman, a member of the famous Franks family which had served the country so well during the dark days of the Revolution. ”Of the many youths my husband aided in prison, you are the first one who came to thank him for his service.”
”Nay, Rachel,” her husband chided her gently. ”I did not seek for thanks. And it was not those brave soldiers I tried to serve, but freedom.” His tired eyes glowed with a warm light as he turned to Louis. ”I was born in unhappy Poland, so it is not strange that I loved freedom with all my heart and with all my soul. And when I was in prison, no longer free to serve this country which had welcomed me so heartily, I thanked G.o.d that I was permitted to aid those who were fighting her battles and seeking to make her free before the world.”
”And after he escaped here to Philadelphia,” added his wife, a note of pride in her voice, ”he fought for the colonies just as surely as Colonel Franks upon the battlefield. You have heard of the vast sums of money he lent the bankrupt government--and without a bit of security, too.”
Haym held up his hand in protest. ”What security did I need? If I could not trust my country, whom should I trust?” he asked her in quiet sincerity.
She bent her dark head over the little garment she was mending, her lips curved a bit scornfully. ”I try not to be impatient. I know that even though peace has come, commerce is still languis.h.i.+ng; that it will take many, many months for the government to pay its debts. Yet it hurts me to see you so worried, so hampered because you lack capital to go on with your business.” Her dark eyes sparkled with indignation. ”You are only forty-five, Haym,” she declared, almost fiercely, ”and yet your many cares make you seem almost an old man.”
”I am glad to have been able to give my youth to my country,” he answered. Then, turning to Louis di Vernon: ”Do not think my wife too bitter? She has had sore trials,” and he gently patted her work-worn hand. ”I know it is not for herself she grieves, but she is troubled for me and for our little ones. And, in truth, things have grown dark for us of late. My business has suffered during the war and I was obliged to neglect it while I attended to affairs of state. And now that peace has come at last, I find that my old good fortune has deserted me.”
”If you had only kept the remnant of your fortune,” sighed his wife, ”the sixty-four thousand dollars you lent to Mr. Morris for his bank would have tided us over these evil times.”
”But I could not allow the National Bank to fail,” protested Salomon.
”Somehow,” turning to his guest, ”I have grown like the old philosopher of my people who was so unfortunate that he once declared that if he took to making shoes everyone would go barefoot, if he became a shroud maker, no one would die.” He laughed softly, then grew suddenly grave. ”The merchants to whom I have extended credit have failed. There have been losses at sea--” he shrugged, and became silent, his eyes grown strangely large in his thin white face, seeming to look into the far future. ”Mr. Madison and my other friends will not forget me,” he said slowly, ”and my country in whose keeping I may have to leave my wife and infant children before long, will be glad to repay her debt and care for them.” A strange look of peace swept over his tired face; it was well that his dimming eyes could not see the long years during which his country would forget to be grateful and to repay.
A feeling half of pity, half of shame filled the young man's heart.
”I--I am sorry,” he stammered.
”You need not pity me.” Salomon smiled his old gentle smile. ”I have been given a chance to serve the cause of freedom with my fortune; I have been of service to my own people, too, the Hebrews of Philadelphia, and it gladdens my heart to believe that my children's children will wors.h.i.+p the G.o.d of our fathers here in this place in the synagogue I have helped to build. I do not think my life has been such a very great failure after all,” he ended, naively. ”And it is good to know that what I have done has borne fruit. That is why your coming here tonight to thank me has heartened me more than news of the safe arrival of those missing merchant-s.h.i.+ps at port.”
Louis arose, his honest face red with shame. ”I did not want to hurt you,” he said, speaking with difficulty. ”When I came here tonight and you both thought it was just to thank you before I set sail for France, I was ashamed to tell you the reason of my visit. For I am like the others; I would not have come to thank you for favors past; not knowing of your misfortune, I only came to ask new bounties; that is why I am ashamed.”
”Then why do you tell me now?” Salomon's voice had grown very tired.
”I should have liked to believe that you were not here for favors.”
”I could not go away and have you believe a lie. You are too honest a man to lie to, Mr. Salomon. Are you sorry I told the truth?”
”No. That takes the pain away.” A long silence while the January wind howled outside. At last Haym spoke. ”What did you wish of me--though now I may be unable to grant it.”
”I leave shortly for France,” answered the young man, flushed beneath the other's quiet gaze. ”Although I return a poor man, my betrothed has waited for me and I desired to buy a bit of land for my own that we might become householders as our parents were before us. I knew you would trust me and that is why I came to you, my one friend in America.”
”Now I am truly sorry for my losses,” answered Salomon. ”If I could only help you--but, perhaps, Mr. Morris--yes, I will give you a note to him, and though I am not prosperous today, he will be willing to trust me as your security.”
But Louis di Vernon shook his head. ”I cannot think of it,” he answered, stubbornly. ”Do not insist, or I shall be sorry that I told you of my desires. Please have this visit as it should have been; to thank you for your great kindness to me; not to ask more favors.”
”As you will,” answered Haym with a smile. ”But you must not leave us without a little token for your betrothed.” Going to the mantel piece, he took down a silver cup, quaintly carved, and slipped it into the young man's unwilling hand. ”Nay, lad, take it, it is all I can give you--this and my blessing for your future.” Again the wind shook the window pane. ”It is a bitter night outside. We have no guest chamber, but if you care to sleep beside our fire----”
”Nay, after Valley Forge a soldier is not afraid of the storm,”