The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 43

Money, bills, stocks, treasures, riddles, sermons, shaming convictions.... He was greedy, selfish, despicable; he was stumbling through the darkness blindly. He was sinking into quicksand, and it kept dragging him lower and lower. Somewhere, somehow, he must have strayed from the path. The suffocating sand was rising over his head now. There was no way out.

Suddenly, Hannover awoke and jerked himself upright in bed. As his dreams faded away, he let out a moaning sigh and hung his head.

Thank goodness it has only been a dream! he thought wearily. Yet, even while he was awake, his turmoil went on and on. All he ever thought about was how to become richer, and how to make himself more successful. There were a dozen antagonists to his covetous goal. But lately, one challenge had been the worst.

It was still dark. With an eager hand, he grabbed a matchstick and lit the wick of a candle. Then he settled himself back down in bed, thinking how nice it would be to see a cheerful human face right then. The only one he could think of was Timothy's. But that plucky little fellow was half the reason his mind was so troubled that night.

It is all thanks to his confounded ideas! he grunted. His constant babbling about silly things. It's all poppycock! Why, he told me yesterday that if he found the treasure, he wanted to give it all away to paupers! He paused and gnawed a corner of his blanket in agitated thought. And I...I couldn't consent even though I tried! Even though I knew it was the right thing to do, I could not force myself to agree! He felt like a scoundrel for not feeling more enthused about being charitable. Hadn't he promised over and over to give to the poor once he found the treasure? Why was it so hard for him to share his bounty?

For a while, Hannover wondered what it would be like if he had a more giving heart. Would he feel incredibly free and happy if he let go of all his lucrative dreams and coveted possessions? The very thought made him flinch. He couldn't let go of them! He didn't want to. And as for the treasure, it was his; his to do whatever he wanted with.

He slipped his hand under his pillow and touched a heap of small papers. Then, pulling them out, he carefully unfolded each one, studying the elegant cursive.

This is your fault too, you unbearable riddle maker, he whispered to the lady of long ago. His eyes fell over Lady Denzell's heartfelt sermons and guilt tugged at his heart again. Those words made him feel so doomed. By all that they said, he was a lost hypocrite. He professed Christianity, but his heart was far from God. By their convicting statements, he was a money-worshiping heathen who trusted in his own heart rather than putting his faith in Christ. Were they right? Was he failing? Sinking? Lost?

At last, he tried to scramble out of the nightmarish quicksand of his mind. It is ridiculous of you to spend so much time fretting over this. Really, a little foresight is all you need to climb out of this one. Here is what I see in the future: I will find that treasure, and suddenly, I will have more than enough money to do anything my heart desires! I will be an important man then! No longer will Charles Hannover be the struggling entrepreneur fighting tooth and nail with creditors and debts. All that will be done away with and I will be free to live like a lord or a king! He paused. With reluctance gripping his heart, he forced himself to go on. And... yes, I will give to charity. Yes, I will help that poor guttersnipe's family. After all, the treasure will provide ample funds for a bit of charity. And it will only make me more popular in the eyes of the public.

He put Lady Denzell's letters away and blew out his candle, thinking about new houses, new businesses, and the ancient treasure until he finally fell asleep. But once more, his slumber wasn't pleasant. In his dreams, a vague story from his memory seemed to be echoing. In it, he saw a joyful man running through a vast wheat field that was golden with grain. Enormous barns and storehouses sprang up around him, and every luxury filled the prosperous farmer's house. Then, with a frightening roll of thunder, the scene of success gave place to a flash flood, a gravestone in a fallow field, and a mournful voice which said, "Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?"