THE LETTER OF INSTRUCTIONS.
'Good-night' and 'good-bye.' These words, uttered by Alston Griswold
to certain departing guests as he stood on the top of what is called
in New York the stoop (equivalent to our steps) outside his open door,
gave a fresh turn to the last proceedings of the evening. Good-bye?
Why, of course, he was going to Europe the next day; most of them had
forgotten that, and many of them thought it a favourable opportunity
for cracking another bottle of champagne to wish their host health,
happiness, and a safe voyage. Those wishes for the prosperity of
others, which always increase in fervour with the advance of the night
and the circulation of the wine, were mingled with the expression of
hopes from some that Griswold would not remain away long; that he was
a representative New Yorker, one of their merchant princes, and a
thoroughly good fellow, and of fears from others lest when he did come
back he should be spoiled and Europeanised, as was the case with too
many of them; but none of these expressions of doubt were whispered
above the speaker's breath, while all the good-byes and God-speeds
were loud and protracted, so that a man of less genial and kindly
impulses than Alston Griswold might have been excused in indulging in
a little self-gratification at the esteem in which he was held, and
the regrets of losing him which were so loudly manifested.
The last guest had gone, and Griswold, after waving his farewell to
them from the door, had turned back into the hall, when it suddenly
struck him that his wife had not been present at these final joyous
ceremonies. To stand well in her eyes, to have her as the mute witness
of the honours paid him in acknowledgment of his social and commercial
position, was his greatest pride, and he was vexed and angry to think
that the warm compliments of which he had just been the recipient had
been unheard by her.
He looked into the supper-room, but she was not there; into the
ball-room, and there he found her on a seat at the far end, listless
and dejected.
'Helen, what ails you?'
And all his anger vanished in an instant as she lifted up her eyes,
and he saw they were filled with tears.
'Helen, my darling, what is the matter? Has anything happened?'
'Nothing, dear,' she said, in a low flat voice. 'Tell me, are the
people all gone? every one, I mean? O, I am so glad!'
'You are over-fatigued, child, that is all,' said he, bending tenderly
down to her.
'I wish it were all,' said Helen, rising and throwing herself into her
husband's arms. 'I am so horribly wretched!'
'Wretched!' he repeated, with infinite tenderness. 'What makes you
wretched, dear?'
'You do, and no one else. You are going to leave me, and it seems
cruel and unkind of you.'
'My sweet Helen, those are very hard words, and--'
'I don't mean them harshly, Alston; but you have no idea how I dread
your absence. If I have any influence with you, you will give up these
plans and stay with me.'
'Put off my voyage now, on the very eve of my departure, with all my
plans arranged? It would be impossible, Helen.'
'Nothing is impossible to you in business if you choose, Alston,' she
replied; 'but you don't choose. You are carried away by the inordinate
ambition to be rich. That contemptible money-worship, which is
everywhere sapping the foundations of New York society, has you for
one of its high-priests, and my comfort and my happiness are nothing
in comparison with your desire for the accumulation of money.'
Griswold was silent for a moment, regarding her earnestly; then he
pushed his hair from off his forehead, and with the faintest sigh and
a grave smile, more in his eyes than on his lips, said,
'You are speaking hurriedly and like a woman, Helen, and do not, I am
sure, mean half you say; but even if I have this wild desire for the
accumulation of money, for whose sake is it indulged in, to whom is
the acquired wealth devoted? Not, I think--' and a grave smile now
broke on to his lips--'not, I think, to myself entirely. I go down
town in the morning in the stage for ten cents, and I return on foot;
my clothes are the standing topic for my friends' abuse and--'
'I know, Alston--I know it all. You are the least selfish of men; and
it is for me and for my sake alone that you are condemning yourself to
a life of slavery, and making both of us wretched. But this is
precisely the reason why I am the person to enjoin you to give it up.
We are quite rich enough for my ambition, dear. Stay with me, and let
us enjoy together what we have. But for Heaven's sake do not leave
me.'
'I love to hear you talk like this,' said he, putting his arm around
her as she pillowed her head on his broad chest and looked up with
soft entreaty into his face. 'It shows you to me as what I have always
known you to be, the most affectionate and most trusting of God's
creatures. But though I would give my life to save you a pang, what
you now ask me is an impossibility. If I had had any idea that you
would have taken my going away so much to heart, I would have
endeavoured, though it would have been difficult, to send some one
else in my place. At this late hour, however, it is impossible to make
any such substitution, and it is imperative that I should go in
person; not merely to look after my own business, but after very large
interests of others, which have been staked on a guarantee that I
would attend to them. Helen, darling, when you say that my inordinate
ambition to be rich and my worship of money are greater than my love
for you, you talk foolishly, and you know it. To part from you will
half break my heart. I would willingly surrender all the profits,
large though we expect them to be, of this projected undertaking, if
by so doing I could remain with you; but I could not do so without a
sacrifice of honour and credit; and, utterly unbusinesslike as you
are, you know the meaning of those two words and the value which is
necessarily attached to them. Do you understand me, child?'
'Yes,' she said, wiping the traces of tears from her face and looking
up at him almost calmly, 'I understand all you say, and I see there is
nothing for me to do but to acquiesce in the arrangement. Only
understand one thing, Alston; this protest of mine against your
leaving me is not the mere pettish fancy of a woman who hates to be
alone, or who is possessed by any absurd jealousy as to what may be
her husband's proceedings during his absence--you and I understand
each other too well for any nonsense of that sort; but I hate you
going away on this voyage, Alston. I have had a presentiment about it
which nothing can dispel, though which I should find impossible to
explain. However, it is useless saying any more about it; only promise
me one thing, that you will never undertake such a voyage again.'
'I promise; that is to say, I promise never to sail again for Europe
unless you go with me. O, you need not purse your little mouth up in
that manner! Charley Vanderlip tells me that his friend Dillon, who
has just returned from the other side, vows that Europe is the only
place in the world fit to live in.'
'Then Mr. Dillon is a--never mind; I will say not a good American
citizen,' said Helen, tossing her head. 'Do you know what o'clock it
is, Alston?'
'Late enough,' said Alston, looking at his watch; 'but I have some
work to do in the library before I can think of rest.'
'I will join you there, then,' said Helen, rising. 'I am not in the
least sleepy, only I must first get rid of this stiff silk dress, and
these bracelets and jewels. I can then send that wretched Hortense to
bed, and I will be down again in five minutes.'
Alston Griswold leaned back in his chair, and looked long and lovingly
at his wife as she glided away, and at the spot which she had occupied
after she had passed out of his sight. Then his brow darkened, and he
thrust his hands deeply into his pockets as he slowly rose from his
seat.
Did he share the presentiment as to his departure which his wife had
confessed? Not the least in the world. He was by far too practical a
man of business to have given way to any such folly. But the word--and
yet-- No, it would be madness. He would be the laughing-stock of
Wall-street and the butt of his clubs if he allowed a woman's weakness
to influence him in a matter where three or four millions were
involved, and in the conduct of which his reputation and his fortune
would be made or marred. He would close up his preparations at once,
and the first thing to be attended to was that letter of instructions.
Acting at once upon this determination, he crossed the hall and
entered the library--an old room furnished with black oak, and
entirely surrounded with antique bookcases filled with a choice
collection, which, indeed, their owner never opened, but which were
Helen's greatest resource and delight. On the other side of the large
open folding-doors were the supper-rooms, the lights in which were
still burning, though the tables had been cleared ere the servants
retired to rest. Griswold looked somewhat surprised when he saw the
room still lighted, and was on the point of ringing the bell; but
remembering there was no one to answer it, he turned back into the
library, lit a cigar, and seating himself at the writing-table, took
from one of the drawers a sheet of paper, two sides of which were
already covered.
By the shaded light of the kerosene lamp, which stood upon the
writing-table, Griswold read this paper carefully through; then laying
it down before him, fell into a train of thought. 'It looks innocent
enough,' he said; 'it might be what I shall tell her it is, when I
put into her hand--a mere paper on business, to be read at a future
time--and yet to think how all-powerful it will be, or ought to be, in
the event of anything happening to me. To be read at some future time,
eh! I think I can see the scene which will occur at that future time
plainly enough; what a commotion there would be in Wall-street, what
an anxiety amongst a certain set to know whether I had carried out the
commission with which I had been intrusted, before I died. The
commission with which I have been intrusted, that is what they would
be anxious about--not me, their agent; only poor Helen would think of
me. What she said just now about her little regard for wealth was true
enough. If the enterprise succeeded, she would be rich as an empress;
if it failed, she would have comparatively little to live upon; but in
neither case would she care much, I flatter myself, if I were gone.
The joys or the woes of life would affect her equally little if I were
not there to share them with her. What a wretchedly gloomy train of
thought I have fallen into!' he muttered, half aloud, striking his
hand upon the desk. 'Hundreds of men go to and return from Europe
every week; it is the boast of the Cunard Company that they have never
lost a passenger, and yet here am I, in rude health and strength,
picturing to myself what is to happen after my immediately approaching
death. Helen must have innoculated me with a touch of her
presentiment; however, I will shake it off at once. I will finish this
letter of instructions, for it is better for her in any contingency to
know exactly how she stands, and then I will get some rest, of which I
fancy I am more than usually in need.'
He drew the paper towards him again, and bending over the desk
commenced writing earnestly. From time to time he paused in his
occupation and stared earnestly before him, as though weighing certain
matters in his mind before committing his thoughts to paper. At
length, after about ten minutes' work, he came to the end of his task;
and, having folded the letter, placed it into an envelope, and was
about to return it to the drawer, when he suddenly stopped.
'No,' he muttered; 'in her present state of mind it is best to be
prudent over such a matter as this. I will not leave it behind for her
and tell her where it is; I will not give it to her myself, for she is
but a woman, and her woman's curiosity might impel her to open it at
once, and that would certainly impose a scene between us; I will send
it to her to-morrow by Warren. Helen will not come down to the wharf;
Warren is sure to be there to see me off, and I will send the letter
to her by him. I have only him to trust to for seeing after her while
I am away, and this little commission will break the ice between them,
and show her to him--though he has never properly valued her--in
colours that must compel him to acknowledge her the perfect wife she
is.'
So saying, he sealed the letter and deposited it in his pocket-book,
after restoring which to his breast he continued his musing.
'What a wonderful stroke of luck for me, situated as I am, to have
made such a friend as Trenton Warren! He will be indispensable to
Helen, and to me as the means of communication with her. I must get
all her letters through him, for I could never make her simple heart
and unbusiness-like head comprehend the necessity for my taking a
false name in England. She would be frightened at the mere idea, and
she must never know it. This necessity alone would oblige me to
endeavour to establish thoroughly good relations between Helen and
Trenton Warren before I sail to-morrow.'
'Before I sail to-morrow.' The words turned his mind into a new train
of thought. Absorbed, he let his chin recline upon his breast, and did
not notice Helen's entrance at the other end of the supper-room. She
was clad in a loose dressing-gown and looked lovely, with her hair
hanging around her shoulders.
When she had progressed halfway up the room, her eyes were attracted
by something shining on the ground just in front of her. Stooping and
picking the object up, she found it to be a portion of a sleeve-link,
an engraved cameo in a gold setting; the gold work had been twisted
and broken under the feet of the throng. All this Helen saw at a
glance; but placing it in the pocket of her dressing-gown, she thought
no more of it, and entered the library to join her husband.