True Riches | Page 5

pocket,
declaring, as he did so, that you were arrested at the instance of Mr.
Jasper, who accused you with having robbed him of a large amount of
money."
"Why, Edith!" ejaculated Edward Claire, in a voice of painful surprise.
He, too, had been dreaming, and in his dream he had done what his
heart prompted him to do on the previous evening--to act unfaithfully
toward his employer.
"Oh, it was dreadful! dreadful!" continued Edith. "Rudely they seized
and bore you away. Then came the trial. Oh, I see it all as plainly as if
it had been real. You, my good, true, noble-hearted husband, who had
never wronged another, even in thought--you were accused of robbery
in the presence of hundreds, and positive witnesses were brought
forward to prove the terrible charge. All they alleged was believed by
those who heard. The judges pronounced you guilty, and then
sentenced you to a gloomy prison. They were bearing you off, when, in
my agony, I awoke. It was terrible, terrible! yet, thank God! only a
dream, a fearful dream!"
Claire drew his arms around his young wife, and clasped her with a
straining embrace to his bosom. He made no answer for some time. The
relation of a dream so singular, under the circumstances, had startled

him, and he almost feared to trust his voice in response. At length, with
a deeply-drawn, sighing breath, nature's spontaneous struggle for relief,
he said--
"Yes, dear, that was a fearful dream. The thought of it makes me
shudder. But, after all, it was only a dream; the whispering of a
malignant spirit in your ear. Happily, his power to harm extends no
further. The fancy may be possessed in sleep, but the reason lies
inactive, and the hands remain idle. No guilt can stain the spirit. The
night passes, and we go abroad in the morning as pure as when we laid
our heads wearily to rest."
"And more," added Edith, her mind fast recovering itself; "with a
clearer perception of what is true and good. The soul's disturbed
balance finds its equilibrium. It is not the body alone that is refreshed
and strengthened. The spirit, plied with temptation after temptation
through the day, and almost ready to yield when the night cometh, finds
rest also, and time to recover its strength. In the morning it goes forth
again, stronger for its season of repose. How often, as the day dawned,
have I lifted my heart and thanked God for sleep!"
Thus prompted, an emotion of thankfulness arose in the breast of Claire,
but the utterance was kept back from the lips. He had a secret, a painful
and revolting secret, in his heart, and he feared lest something should
betray its existence to his wife. What would he not have given at the
moment to have blotted out for ever the memory of thoughts too
earnestly cherished on the evening before, when he was alone with the
tempter?
There was a shadow on the heart of Edith Claire. The unusual mood of
her husband on the previous evening, and the dream which had haunted
her through the night, left impressions that could not be shaken off. She
had an instinct of danger--danger lurking in the path of one in whom
her very life was bound up.
When Edward was about leaving her to go forth for the day, she
lingered by his side and clung to him, as if she could not let him pass
from the safe shelter of home.

"Ah! if I could always be with you!" said Edith--"if we could ever
move on, hand in hand and side by side, how full to running over
would be my cup of happiness!"
"Are we not ever side by side, dear?" replied Claire, tenderly. "You are
present to my thought all the day."
"And you to mine. O yes! yes! We are moving side by side; our mutual
thought gives presence. Yet it was the bodily presence I desired. But
that cannot be."
"Good-bye, love! Good-bye, sweet one!" said Claire, kissing his wife,
and gently pressing his lips upon those of the babe she held in her arms.
He then passed forth, and took his way to the store of Leonard Jasper,
in whose service he had been for two years, or since the date of his
marriage.
A scene transpired a few days previous to this, which we will briefly
describe. Three persons were alone in a chamber, the furniture of which,
though neither elegant nor costly, evinced taste and refinement. Lying
upon a bed was a man, evidently near the time of his departure from
earth. By his side, and bending over him, was a woman almost as pale
as himself. A little girl, not above five years of age, sat