----"He is a man,
Setting his fate aside, of comely virtues;
Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice--
An honor in him which buys out his faults--
But with a noble fury and fair spirit,
Seeing his reputation touched to death,
He did oppose his foe."
Shakspeare.
"Mr. Delancey, will you wait one minute, sir!" exclaimed Arthur, coming
in, apparently much excited, just as Guly replaced the box on the shelf.
The merchant stopped just as he was going out of the door, and planting
his cane firmly down upon the floor, turned round with the frown between
his eyebrows quite visibly deepened.
"Well, sir, what will you have?"
"Your attention, if you can give it, sir--one moment at your desk."
"Whatever you've got to say, say it here."
"No, sir, I must see you privately."
Wilkins and Guly both looked at Arthur in mute astonishment. His face
was flushed and heated, his breath came short, like one who had been
running, and his eyes and lips, and whole manner, evinced intense
agitation and excitement.
"Is it such particular business, young man, that you must detain me
now?" said the merchant, somewhat angered at the prospect of detention
from his usual dinner hour.
"It is very particular business to me, sir; and interests you not much
less."
Mr. Delancey waved his hand impatiently, for Arthur to precede him to
his desk; then, with hasty step, and planting his cane each tread
visibly on the floor, he followed him, and seating himself with formal
precision, took off his hat, and leant stiffly back in his chair.
"Well, sir?"
Arthur would almost have as soon undergone the terrors of the
Inquisition as to brave the tempest he expected soon to fall upon his
devoted head. He called up all his courage, however, and began.
"This afternoon, sir, I took some money from Mr. Wilkins to deposit in
the bank."
"Well? come, be quick."
"I put it, as I thought, safely in this pocket; I went from here
straight to the bank. I don't know how it happened, I'm sure I can't
imagine," said Arthur, growing confused, with those stern, strong eyes
staring straight into his, "but when I got to the bank I found, sir, I
had lost it."
"The devil you did!"
"I am sorry to say it, it is true."
"And what were you doing, on your way to the bank, that you hadn't an
eye on that money, I'd like to know?"
"The money I supposed was safe, sir, and I walked straight along without
thinking about it, till I reached the bank."
"A likely story that! Who did you talk to, or see, on your way? any of
your companions?"
"I saw only one person, sir, whom I knew at all; one whom I have not
seen before for several weeks."
"And that very one, I dare say, picked your pocket. What was his name?
who was he?"
"He is a gentleman, sir, who would not do such a thing, I'm sure, any
sooner than you would. He is a friend of mine."
"What is his name, I say?"
"Clinton, sir. No one that you know, probably."
The merchant leaned forward, and peered keenly into Arthur's face, as if
to see if there was aught of hidden meaning in his words; and his
features grew ashy pale while he asked, in a hoarse whisper:--
"_Clinton?_ Clinton what?"
"Mr. Clinton is the only name I know him by. I haven't heard his given
name," returned Arthur, surprised at the merchant's agitation.
Mr. Delancey said nothing for a moment; but sat leaning forward, with
his pale face dropped in thought upon his breast.
"Did he talk with you long?" he asked, at last.
"No, sir. He walked with me one block."
"You had the money when he left you?"
"I did not touch it from here to the bank, sir; and knew nothing of it
from the time I left this door, till I reached the bank counter."
"Hem! yes, yes, a very likely story. It couldn't have got out of your
pocket without hands, young man; and if your friend wouldn't do such a
thing, and your pocket was safe, I don't think but what you know
something about it."
"Me, sir? Mr. Delancey, you don't mean to say--"
"Tut, tut, I know about you young chaps; I might have known I would have
just such trouble when I took you, I suppose you think I don't know that
Henriquez's billiard table is between here and the bank, eh?"
"If you do, you know more than I do, sir."
"Dare you tell me that? Here, haven't you been gone a good two
hours?--and all that time going to the bank, eh?"
"I tell you the truth, Mr. Delancey; and I am sure you are aware of
it."
"Well, there's no use talking now; you will not convince me if you talk
till doomsday. That money you've got to replace out of your salary."
"Why, sir, it was three hundred dollars."
"There! there! how do you know how much it was, if you didn't look at
it, I'd like to know."
"I heard Wilkins say this morning he had such a deposit to make. Ask
him, sir, if he didn't."
"I've heard enough about it. You must make it up, that's all; and you'll
be more careful henceforth."
"And, sir, you will retract what you insinuated had become of it? I'll
willingly make it up to you, if it takes every cent I earn; but I'll not
have a blight upon my reputation, even in your opinion, sir."
His words fell upon empty air; for Mr. Delancey had already left the
high desk, and was striking his cane heavily down with each step, as he
stalked down through the store. Arthur sank upon a chair, and buried his
face in his hands.
"A hard fate," he murmured, bitterly. "First to suffer the loss, and
then to be accused, or at least suspected, of appropriating it. Heavens!
it is too much; I will not and cannot stand it."
"Be calm, Arthur," said Wilkins, in his full deep tones; "look up, and
tell us what has happened."
Arthur raised his head, and told his story unhesitatingly.
"This is a bad business, my young friend. I am extremely sorry; but the
only way for you is not to mind it. This is Mr. Delancey's way.
Intercourse with the world has rendered him suspicious, and you'll never
convince him that you don't know something about the money. No one else
that knows you will ever think so, though; and you will stand just as
high as ever. Yours isn't the first case of this kind."
"It is too outrageous, Wilkins, and I won't bear it. Do you think I'll
tamely submit to be called, or thought, a thief?"
"What can you do? It is useless to talk or feel thus; say nothing, go
steadily on, and Delancey himself will forget, after awhile, his
suspicions. As to replacing it, I feel that you have been unfortunate
through my means, and I will assist you in that."
"I don't wish you to, thank you, Wilkins. I don't care so much for my
money as I do for my good name. To be robbed of it in this manner, is
more than I can possibly endure."
"Let me beg of you to think no more about it. Follow my advice, and all
will yet be well."
Arthur sat moodily down, and gave himself up to thought. He fancied
there was no possible way to extricate himself from the difficulty, and
that it would be useless to argue with such a man as his employer. With
flushed cheek and thoughtful air he rose and took his place behind the
counter.
Wilkins watched him anxiously, and then, as though Guly were the elder,
instead of the younger brother, he sought him for a consultation. He was
busy with a customer, and Wilkins noticed that he was displaying some of
Blanche's new work, and wondered whether it was that, or interest in his
brother's behalf, which brought such a bright glow to his cheek.
"It is very beautiful," said the lady who was buying, examining one of
the collars closely, "Very beautiful; is that your lowest, Master
Pratt?"
"The very lowest, Madame. I have been gratified in being able to show
these articles to you _first_. They are quite new, and I know how well
you like the first choice."
"No one else, then, has bought from these before?"
"No, Madame."
"It is high, but I'll take it."
"Yes, Madame."
As the lady left the store, Guly turned to Wilkins, with a bright smile:
"You see I have kept my promise to Blanche, and have sold her work to a
'choice customer.'"
"I see," said Wilkins. "A word with you, Guly."
Guly stepped toward him.
"Arthur has--"
"Poor Arthur! true enough! how could I forget him; what was the matter,
Wilkins? I have been so busy, you know."
"He has got into sad trouble; I feel very sorry for him; but I can't
help him an iota, that I see; it's too bad, I declare."
Wilkins then gave Guly the details, as far as he knew them, of Arthur's
misfortune.
"Well, Mr. Wilkins, this is outrageous!" exclaimed Guly, with a
vehemence unusual to him. "It would require the virtue and forbearance
of a saint to bear up under such things. It isn't the money so much,
though I'm very sorry he lost it, but it is his good name; to have that
sullied, even in thought! It is enough to drive any one to desperation."
"Don't tell Arthur so, for the world," said Wilkins, very earnestly.
"No, no, I'll not--can I go to him?"
"Of course."
"Dear Arthur," said Guly, beckoning his brother a little one side, "I
know all. You know how I sympathize with you, my brother; but cheer up,
we can live through it all; and you will be, in the end, thoroughly
acquitted of what Mr. Delancey suspects you of, even in his own heart.
The only way to convince him of his error, is to show him by your
future course how much such an act would be beneath you."
"Oh, there's no use, Guly; I never could convince such a flint-hearted
man in the world, of my innocence, if he chose to think me guilty. I was
horrified at first, but I've thought of it, and thought of it, till I
don't care much. It's my fate, I suppose."
"Don't give up in this way, Arthur; think of your own proud self, of how
much depends upon you, of our dear mother, and all that. Don't allow
yourself to be crushed."
"Guly, just think of it--a _thief_!"
"Only so in the opinion of one who will not reflect upon it long enough
to see its utter impossibility."
"And all this year's labor lost, Guly; and nothing to send home now to
mother."
"We'll try what we can do with _my_ salary, Arthur."
"Pooh! the whole of it just covers the amount lost; and how are you
going to live?"
"Don't give it up so, don't! There is One who will never desert those
who trust Him. Remember that, Arthur, and look up."
"It is my fate to be forced to look down. It is useless for me to try to
struggle against it. I can't be otherwise."
"You are too desponding, Arthur; many a man, now rich and happy, if he
could tell his experience in getting so, would no doubt relate a harder
life than yours can ever be. This should only serve to make you
stronger."
"If Mr. Delancey was only a different-tempered man, perhaps I could do
better. If he had sympathized with me, and assured me kindly of his
belief that it was all an accident, oh, I would have felt so
differently, so happy in comparison! There is no pleasure in serving
such a man; it is only rigid duty, rigidly performed, for one you cannot
but hate. He is never so happy as when mixing gall with the honey of
one's happiness. I am miserable, Guly, miserable! and I can't rouse
myself. I wish I was as meek and forbearing as you are, I could be
happier; my pride, my strong unbending pride, has been, and ever will
be, my curse."
Arthur's tones seemed to struggle up so heavily in his sorrow, from his
heart's depths, that Guly felt strongly inclined to tell him there were
very few, however meek and charitable, who would submit to an insult of
this kind quietly; but he remembered his promise to Wilkins, and
refrained.
"If I could reason with Mr. Delancey, if he would talk with me as it is
his duty to talk with me, I am sure he would think differently upon the
matter; but for me to stay here for the ensuing year, as I now am forced
to do, whether or no; and for me to feel that every time those cold eyes
are turned upon me, they believe themselves to be looking on a thief!
Oh, my God! Guly, it is too much!"
Arthur was intensely excited, and the veins in his forehead stood out
like cords, so swollen were they, and his face was deeply flushed.
Guly's heart ached for him, and he was trying to think of something
which he could say to comfort him, when he was called away by a
customer, and, with a kindly pressure upon his brother's hand, he left
his side.
Arthur also stepped back to his place; but every attitude he assumed,
every changing expression of his handsome face, told the restless misery
of that young heart, and the crushing weight upon that lofty spirit.
Guly waited anxiously for night to come, that he might talk to, and try
to encourage, Arthur. When the lamps were lighted, and the customers had
gradually thinned out, he was about to cross over and speak to him. To
his surprise he saw that his place was vacant, and he was nowhere to be
seen. A sharp pang went through the boy's heart, succeeded by a
sickening faintness; and he leaned against the counter for support,
filled with undefined fears of sorrow, and danger, and unhappiness.
With a blush at his apparently causeless emotion, he stepped to the
clerk who always stood next to Arthur, and inquired if he knew where he
had gone.
"No," the young man said; "he went out about half an hour ago, and Mr.
Quirk was with him."
"Quirk!" ejaculated Guly, involuntarily, while the pang went through his
breast again; and seizing his cap, he started forth, in the hope of
discovering Arthur's where-abouts.