"Never more
Shall hope's bright chain be gathered from the dust,
And, re-united, glitter as before,
Strong and unsullied by corroding dust."
When they reached the store door, Wilkins rapped before entering, and
Guly, remembering that Quirk was within, and not wishing to meet that
young gentleman, told Wilkins he would go to his own room by the
alley-way. He had the pass-key for the small door; so they shook hands
and parted, just as the front door was being opened.
In a few moments Guly stood in the large old room, which was the only
spot he could look upon as home.
All that surrounded him was darkness and gloom; for he had no lamp, and
the night-light of heaven never entered there. But Guly was happy, and
the bare floor had lost its hardness to him as he knelt to pour out the
fervent prayer of gratitude gushing from his heart.
He had forgotten to listen for his brother's breathing, from the lowly
bed in the corner; the throbbing of his own glad heart was all he heard,
and for once in his life Guly was selfishly happy.
But when he threw himself upon his pillow, he became conscious that he
was alone; there was no gentle hand, half-roused from slumber, to creep
about him with a brother's love, and there was no half-escaped sigh or
murmured word of half-awakened welcome. Arthur's pillow was cold, his
place deserted.
As soon as he became conscious of this fact, the glow of happiness and
delight went out in his heart, like a suddenly smothered lamp. He had
expected Arthur would return as soon as he left him, but he had not done
so, and Guly grew restless and anxious in wondering where he could have
gone, and in what way he might be occupied.
Never in all the hurry and excitement in which he had been thrown, never
in all the trouble and apprehension which had so early burdened his
young heart, had Guly forgotten his mother's parting injunctions, her
tears, her sorrow, or her counsel. Their memory had burned in his bosom
with a steady beacon blaze, and he had watched and guarded the flame
even as did the ancients their sacred fires.
Now, as he lay pondering on his brother's danger, he felt that he could
not sleep happily, conscious of a duty unperformed, and he determined to
rise and go in search of him. As he crossed the floor to find his
clothes, he struck his foot against some light object, which went half
way across the room with the strong and sudden impetus he had given it.
He remembered that the lamp they had used the night before was left upon
the floor beside the bed, and had probably not been removed. Glad to
gain a light, he groped about until he found it, struck a match, and the
lamp's feeble blaze illuminated some portion of the surrounding gloom.
He was partially dressed when he paused to listen, sure that he heard
the murmur of excited voices coming from the store below.
He threw a white flannel dressing gown about him with facings of pale
blue silk, and cord and tassel of the same delicate hue, bearing
evidence of its being a relic of better days. Scarce knowing what he
did, the boy took the lamp in one hand and his Bible in the other, and
passed forth from the room; the door, covered with its gay
advertisements, swinging solemnly, shut behind him, as if it partook of
the anxious sorrow of that youthful breast.
With firm step Guly went down the winding stairs. He descended slowly,
and the voices he heard grew more distinct with every step. As he gained
the last turn in the staircase, he stood in view of the whole main part
of the store, and stopped, looking at the scene before him in sad
astonishment.
Between the counters, about half way through the store, was a small deal
table, containing a lamp, four hands of cards just dealt, and several
wine glasses partially emptied of their contents. On one of the counters
stood a number of bottles; some empty, some half filled, and one as yet
unopened. Arthur was seated at the head of the table with a small pile
of gold beside him, and his face flushed and excited. Quirk was opposite
him, and two other clerks made up the party. Wilkins was standing behind
Arthur, attempting with earnest tone and warm entreaties to draw him
away; but with every sentence Arthur answered him insolently, and rudely
shook the pleading hand from his shoulder.
"Your conduct shall be reported, sir, to-morrow," at last said Wilkins,
hoping to move Arthur by his pride.
"Report it then if you choose; don't you see I'm trying to win enough to
pay that d----d debt of mine?"
"How much have you won already?"
"One hundred and eleven dollars."
"One hundred and eleven dollars! well, boys, you must be staking your
salaries to-night, I should think; but, come, Arthur, if you have won
that much, stop now; for you won't win much longer, and if you'll give
up this kind of business, I'll make up the rest for you, and your debt
shall be canceled. Come, I can't bear to see a young man of your
abilities, and one who has a mother with a heart to break, beginning
this practice. It's awful!"
At any other moment an appeal of this kind might have touched Arthur's
heart; but he had drained his wine cup several times, and the exciting
draughts had already exerted their powerful influence over his young
frame to a degree which rendered him deaf to everything beyond the
prospect of regaining that sum which he had so unluckily, as he
declared, lost.
"You are altogether too good, Mr. Wilkins, but I don't need any
assistance when I am prospering as I now am."
"That's right, Pratt!" exclaimed Quirk, with an encouraging wink; "pick
up your cards, and show 'em you ain't to be nosed around by anybody, and
that you didn't come so many hundred miles from home tied fast by your
mammy's long apron-string."
"Had I known this was your intention, Mr. Quirk, when you asked me for
the key, you would never have got it I assure you," said Wilkins,
coldly. "Isn't it enough for you to be bad and unprincipled, without
dragging those who might do better, if let alone, with you into the
pit?"
"'Taint my fault if he can't resist temptation," replied the other,
doggedly. "Come, Pratt, it's your play."
"Arthur, don't throw another card!" exclaimed Wilkins, at the same time
arresting the uplifted hand.
Arthur struggled to release it, but Wilkins held it firmly, and drew him
back from the table as he sat in his chair, and held him fixedly there
in his grasp.
"Arthur, I treat you as I would a younger brother; an eye experienced
in such matters shows me the danger you are in; stop now, in mercy to
yourself and all who love you."
"Release me, Mr. Wilkins; you have no right to act in this manner to me,
sir."
"Yes!" shouted Quirk, seizing an empty bottle with a dreadful
imprecation, and levelling it at Wilkins' head, "release him this minute
if you don't want this through your skull!"
At this instant one of the other clerks caught sight of Guly, who had
stood where he stopped, as if spell-bound, through all this scene.
"Look there!" cried the young man, pointing toward the staircase, and
dropping the cards he held.
They all turned their heads and looked toward Guly, who seemed, standing
there in his white robe, with the lamp elevated just in front of his
forehead, not unlike some spiritual visitant bearing a star on his brow.
The attention which had been called to him, seemed in a measure to rouse
Guly, for he came on slowly down the stairs, but with his blue eyes open
and fixed like one walking in his sleep.
Not one of the startled group before him moved a muscle or dropped an
eye as he advanced, but gazed upon him like persons under the influence
of magnetism.
He approached the table, put his lamp upon it, and laid his Bible down
beside it. He turned his eyes upon Arthur, and stood with his hands
clasped, looking at him as Wilkins still held him drawn back from the
table in his chair.
Still no eye was turned, no lip moved, not a word was uttered. There was
something to awe the stoutest soul in the almost unearthly expression of
the boy's face, as he gazed upon his brother with an unutterable
hopelessness shining from his eyes. Never, in all his fears for Arthur's
erring steps, had Guly thought of this. Never had the idea of gambling
crossed his mind; and now, as he saw him engaged in it, his heart seemed
to grow cold, and he stood looking at him as if he felt the future was
but a wild abyss, into which he must inevitably fall, and near the brink
of which he had too closely approached ever to escape.
All his hopes, his aspirations, and ambition for that brother fell on
the instant from their throne, and, as they vanished, gave back but the
one sad echo--"Lost! lost! lost!"
Arthur had looked up, and met the light of those sad eyes but for an
instant, then dropped his head, and sat, with changing cheek, nervously
fingering the cards which, at Quirk's suggestion, he had picked up from
the table.
The silence which had fallen upon the party was abruptly broken by
Quirk, who suddenly bent forward and read the title of the book which
Guly had laid upon their card-table.
"H--ll!" he muttered between his short teeth; "what the devil did you
lay that right in the midst of our cards for? that's no place for it.
Who ever heard of cards and Bible keeping company on the same board?"
"Had you never neglected the one, you would not now be engaged with the
other," returned Guly, speaking in a soft but impressive voice; and
turning his eyes for an instant from Arthur to Quirk, but immediately
reverting them.
Arthur flung his cards upon the table, but without once lifting his
eyes. He seemed to feel all that his brother looked, without meeting
that full, sad gaze of hopeless sorrow.
"Come, now, Arthur," said Guly, at last, laying his small, girlish hand
upon his brother's brow; "you are tired and excited. It is late,
too--come with me to our own room."
Arthur was ashamed to show any heed of his brother's words before his
present companions, and he drew his head away from the gentle touch of
that kindly hand, and remarked that he would go when he chose--not
before; that he was used to late hours, and he'd run the risk of all
deleterious effects.
"That's it--I like your pluck!" shouted Quirk, too excited by the wine
he had drank to heed the presence of the head clerk. "Don't let's be
scared out of our rubber by a baby-faced boy, and a big Bible--'hanged
if we will."
"You shall not play another round beneath this roof to-night," said
Wilkins, resolutely. "If you do not vacate this place within five
minutes, I will turn every one of you out of doors by main force."
"I'd like to see you try that game once," replied Quirk, instantly,
bending suddenly forward, as if to grasp the book upon the table.
Before he could touch it, Guly had caught it in his own hands.
"This was my mother's Bible. Never shall a defiling finger touch its
sacred pages. Oh! Arthur, if there is any brotherly love left in your
heart for me, go with me to-night. You well know there is no fear of
reproof from me--I could not give it, if I would."
Arthur rose resolutely, swept the gold into his pocket, and took his
brother's hand.
"Zounds, Pratt! you won't leave us so!"
"Your five minutes are up," said Wilkins, firmly, lifting his foot and
turning the table, with its contents, over upon the floor.
"Ten thousand devils!" shouted Quirk, madly; and catching up the neck
of a broken bottle, he hurled it fiercely at Wilkins, who was
approaching him.
It glanced--turned aside by the head-clerk's self-defending hand--and
struck Guly upon the temple. With a faint moan he sank bleeding to the
floor, clasping his mother's Bible to his breast.