Dust. Julian Hawthorne

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      “Not more than fifty; upon my soul, sir,” said Jacob, laying his hands upon his heart in earnest deprecation. “Not a penny, sir, upon my word of honor!”

      “What of the fifty then—eh?”

      “It was in South Sea: I bought at 400,” said Jacob.

      “At 400? And what is it to-day?”

      “Eight hundred and ninety it was this morning,” said Jacob.

      “Was this morning? Do you mean it has fallen since?”

      “It has indeed, sir. They’ve all been selling like demons; and it’s below eight hundred at this moment.”

      “What have you done—eh?”

      “Sold out the first thing, sir, at four hundred and ninety per cent, clear profit,” replied Jacob, something of complacency mingling with the anxious deference of his tone.

      “Therefore, instead of fifty pounds, you now have three hundred or so?”

      “Two hundred, ninety and five, sir,” said the youth modestly.

      “Jacob, you are a fool!”

      “Sir?”

      “You have thrown your money away. You are a fool! You are timid! You have neither the genius, the steadiness, nor the daring to manage and to multiply a great fortune. Were you like myself, Jacob, you or your children might have a hand in controlling the destinies of England, and thus of the world. You have behaved like a pettifogger and a coward, Jacob. I do not ask you to be honest. No man is honest when he is sure that dishonesty will enrich him. But, whatever you are, I ask you to be that thing with all your soul. Be great, or be nothing! Only fools and cowards patter about morality! I tell you that success is the only morality.” Here Mr. Bendibow, who had spoken with calmness, though by no means without emphasis, checked himself, and putting his hand in his pocket drew forth a key which he handed to his son. “Open the strong box,” he said, “and take out the papers you will find in it.”

      Jacob did as he was bid. But his first glance at the papers made him start and stare in a bewildered manner at the unmoved countenance of his father. He then reverted to the papers; but, after a close inspection of them, he seemed only more bewildered than before.

      “This is South Sea stock, sir,” he said at length.

      “Well, Jacob?” said Mr. Bendibow, composedly.

      “Nigh on fifteen thousand pounds’ worth at par, sir.”

      “Yes, Jacob.”

      “I see how it is; you have been buying for some one!” broke out Jacob, energetically.

      “Evidently, Jacob.”

      There was a pause. “On commission, of course?” hazarded Jacob.

      “No commission at all, Jacob.”

      Jacob’s jaws relaxed. “No commission? Whom did you buy for, sir?”

      “For myself, Jacob.”

      Jacob dropped the papers on the table, and leaned against it dizzily; his breath forsook him. Finally, Mr. Bendibow said: “Jacob, you are even more a fool than I took you for.”

      “But how. … When did you buy, sir?” faltered Jacob.

      “Eight or nine years ago,” Mr. Bendibow replied.

      “Then … why, then you must have got it at under two hundred?”

      “Eighty to a hundred and twenty,” said Mr. Bendibow, curtly.

      There was another pause. Jacob moistened his lips and passed his hand over his forehead. Suddenly he screamed out, “But you haven’t sold, sir!”

      “Well, Jacob?”

      “If you’d sold this morning you’d have been worth a hundred and thirty-five thousand sterling—one hundred and thirty-five thousand!”

      “Very nearly, Jacob.”

      “And stock is falling: you’ve lost fifteen thousand since ten o’clock!” shouted Jacob, now quite beside himself. He seized the papers again, and made for the door. There he was stopped by an iron grasp on his arm, and Mr. Bendibow said, in a voice as uncompromising as his grasp, “Stay where you are!”

      “But it’s not too late, sir; we’ll clear a hundred thousand yet,” pleaded Jacob, in agony.

      “Be silent, and hear what I say to you. When I bought this stock, and paid fifteen thousand pounds for it, I made up my mind either to lose all or to win ten times my stake. I made up my mind that my fortune should be either one hundred and fifty thousand sterling, or nothing. Through nine years I have held to my purpose. Until this hour no one has known that I have risked a penny. Men have made fortunes—I have seen it, and held to my purpose, and held my tongue. Men have gone mad with success or failure; I am the same to-day that I was ten years ago. This morning stock reached eight hundred and ninety; a thousand fools like you sold, and now it is falling, and will fall yet more. But it is my belief that it will rise again. It will rise to one thousand. When it touches one thousand, I sell; not before, and not afterward. I shall win one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. With that money I shall found a banking-house. It will be known as the banking-house of Bendibow and Son. If you and your children were men like myself, the house of Bendibow and Son would become one of the great Powers of Europe. Where now we have ten thousand, in a century we should have a million. But you are not such a man as I am. Your children and your great-grandchildren will not be such men as I am. But I have done what I could. I have written down in a book the rules which you are to obey—you, and all your descendants. If you disobey them, my curse will be upon you, and you will fail. I am not young; and no man knows the day when he shall die: therefore I have called you, Jacob, and made this known to you now; because a day or a month hence might be too late. You are not such a man as I am; but any man can obey; and if you obey the rules that I have written you will not fail. Let those rules be written upon your heart, and upon the hearts of your children’s children, even unto the latest generation. There is no power in this world so great as a great fortune, greatly used; but a fool may lose that power in a day.”

      Mr. Bendibow had spoken these words standing erect, and with his eyes fixed steadfastly upon his son; and his tone was stern, solemn and impressive. He now said, in another tone: “Put the papers back in the strong box, Jacob, and do not speak of them again, either to me or to any other person, until stock is at one thousand. Come to me then, and not before. Now go.”

      “But, father, what if stock never reaches one thousand?” suggested Jacob, timidly.

      “Then I shall have lost fifteen thousand pounds,” returned Mr. Bendibow, composedly resuming his seat in his chair.

      Jacob said no more, but replaced the papers in the strong box, handed the key to his father, and left the room, a different man from when he entered it. He could not be an original great man, but he could appreciate and reverence original greatness; and, being instructed, could faithfully carry out the behests of that greatness. Doubtless his father, who had the insight into human nature which generally СКАЧАТЬ