ANOTHER SALOON SCENE--THE BRIDAL TROUSSEAU--THE LOVELY NURSE.
As Hank Glutter's was unfortunately not the only saloon in the world,
we will now open the scene on another place of the same sort, not many
miles away from the smoking ruins; a place, where, for various
reasons, men did congregate; some to gratify a vitiated appetite,
others simply to indulge in a social glass, and still others because
they had no where else to go; some because they were glad, and some
because they were sad; each and all forgetting the words of the wise
man, "Look not upon the wine."
The door had just opened to admit a small party of young men. Among
the number is Edward Sherman. There he stands, a little apart from the
rest, just under the chandelier. Directly opposite, the shelves
glitter in Bohemian and cut glass, and all the attractive features of
the bar. Mark his proud and lofty bearing, as he steps forward and
lifts the goblet to his lips.
Again, and yet again, the cup goes round, until no longer he stands
firmly among his companions. See him now, reeling, tottering,
staggering, as he is borne away for the first time in his life,
helplessly intoxicated, borne to his loving mother, whose grey hairs
blanched whiter in that night of sorrow.
In a desperate mood young Sherman had permitted himself to be thus
overcome, and, when the effects of the stimulant had worn off, he
strove by the most affectionate attentions to make amends for the pain
he had occasioned his mother.
He even went so far as to bend his proud spirit to offer something
like an apology.
"Mother," said he, as he placed his morning kiss upon her care worn
face, before going to his office, "do not worry; I shall not again
forget myself. It was foolish, I know, but I cared not at the time
what became of me. Now don't worry. There is no danger of me."
Mrs. Sherman sighed as the door closed on her darling. "So like his
father," she murmured.
Could she have seen him an hour later, the resemblance to his father
might have struck her still more forcibly, for the social glass was
again at his lips.
Fortunately for the dear old lady, there were other claims upon her
attention, and, from a sense of duty, she strove very hard to bury her
anxiety for her son in the folds of silk and laces which were to
constitute the wedding paraphernalia of her daughter.
Lacking independence of thought, that young lady relied almost
entirely upon the opinion of others, and the consequence was that not
a ribbon, or a flower met her approval until she had first consulted
half a dozen young friends, who, being apt to differ, kept her mind in
a perpetual tumult.
The mooted question on the morning before mentioned, was the exact
length required for the bridal veil, Her confidents all differed in
opinion, and, in despair, she appealed to her mother. "Mamma, Isabel
thinks the veil is two inches too long, and Clara says it is only half
an inch, and Caroline says it is just right. Now what do you think?"
"Why, it seems to be entirely a matter of taste, my dear; perhaps you
had better put it on and ask the doctor's advice."
"O, mamma, the doctor knows nothing at all about the fashions, and if
he did, he would not follow them I know," said she rather petishly.
"He won't do anything anybody else does."
"Why, Louise!" said her mother in surprise.
"I can't help it, mamma; Ned and I had set our hearts upon having wine
at the wedding, for it is quite fashionable now, and we were very sure
that we could coax you to let us, and when I confided in the doctor,
and asked him to use his influence in our favor, he declared flatly
that he would never give his consent, if it was ever so fashionable. I
declare, it made me almost wish I was going to marry Charley Horton.
You know he and Isabel Merton are engaged, and the other day when we
were all together, Isabel told me that she had never asked but one
favor of Charley which he was not willing to grant, and that was, that
he would promise not to use wine in his family nor offer it to his
friends. She said she felt uncomfortable whenever she thought of the
matter, but she hoped to be able to influence him to give it up after
they were married. Caroline Wyndam was there, and she said she would
not _dare_ to say a word to her lover on the subject, although she
would give the world to have him leave off social drinking. But Clara
Hastings and the other girls said they did not think a little wine or
beer would hurt anybody, and they would not give a fig for a man that
could not control his appetite. Clara Hastings said if she ever got
married, she would have wine at the wedding. When I told Ned about it
he said Clara was the girl for him. I wonder what Miss DeWolf would
say to that.
Mrs. Sherman tried to choke down her feelings, but the bitter, burning
tears would come and one by one they coursed down her withered cheek.
There was silence for a few minutes, and Louise would have left the
room, but her mother gently detained her. "Edward wished me to say to
you that his intimacy with Miss DeWolf was broken off, and he further
requested that you would never mention the subject to him."
Great consternation was depicted on Louise's countenance. Oh! it is
too bad," she exclaimed; "and just as she had promised to show me how
that beautiful trimming was made which Miss Marsdon sent her from New
York. I wonder what it means. Do you know, mamma?"
"Why yes, my dear; it means that Miss DeWolf is possessed of a
sensible, well-balanced mind, and that your brother has acted very
foolishly."
Just at that moment the conversation was interrupted by the appearance
of one of Louise's friends and advisers, and the two girls were soon
absorbed in discussing the merits of some article of dress belonging
to the trousseau.
Thus the hours slipped away, until about one o'clock, Edward came for
dinner. He knew as soon as his eye rested upon his demonstrative
sister that she had been made acquainted with his disappointment, and,
as he naturally shrank from receiving sympathy, either by word or
look, he exerted himself to appear much more cheerful than he really
felt.
Louise inwardly resolved that she would be very watchful, and not
cloud her brother's spirits by any allusion whatever to Chimney Rock,
and the next moment she suddenly remembered having seen at the
midnight hour a very bright light from her chamber window in that
direction. Without second thought, she related the circumstance, and
caught herself making the inquiry, "Did you see it, Ned?"
Edward's face flushed scarlet, as he answered evasively, "O, that was
the brewery on fire. I met Mr. Glutter in the city this morning. He
came to make arrangements to open another saloon here. I never saw a
man of more indomitable will and perseverance. Although he lost an
immense amount he is not in the least disheartened."
"Brave fellow," said Louise, cordially embracing her brother's
estimate of the man's character. "I wonder what occasioned the fire."
"Why, he placed the lamp too near his bed, while he went out to learn
if there was any trouble at Miss DeWolf's. It seems that he had always
had a friendly care for her, and, hearing noises in that direction,
he was so kind as to run over. Finding it all quiet about the house,
he followed the sounds to the stable, and discovered that it was only
a horse, which Mr. Wycoff had, a few hours before presented to Miss
DeWolf, that had occasioned the disturbance. The horse had broken
loose, and just as Mr. Glutter was fastening him in the stall, he saw
the flames bursting from the saloon; and so his benevolent trip cost
him his brewery."
While Louise was listening with interest to the recital, Mrs. Sherman
and Dr. Goodrich entered the room. The latter was evidently disgusted
with the expression, "poor fellow," that fell once or twice from the
lips of the young lady, and his annoyance reached the climax when, a
moment's pause, she ventured to assert with one eye on her brother,
that "the poor fellow" would never get any thanks, "for," said she,
"Miss DeWolf detests him, I know she does."
There was a short, awkward silence, which Mrs. Sherman broke, by
saying, deprecatingly she was sure she could not blame Miss DeWolf
for feeling bitterly towards the saloon keeper.
"Blame her!" exclaimed Dr. Goodrich, who could no longer keep silence.
"Blame Miss DeWolf! I would as soon think of blaming an angel in
heaven. What has she to thank Hank Glutter for, I should like to know?
He whose hands are red in the blood of her father. He who has made
orphans and widows at her very door. He who has more than once
endangered her very life by selling those cursed drinks which so
infuriate men. He who would, I doubt not, take her life this day, if
by so doing he could escape punishment, and add another penny to his
cursed store."
"With your sentiments you are hardly prepared to do the man justice,"
said Edward forestalling a reply upon his sister's pouting lips.
"Had a man by his nefarious business, blasted every hope in my
Louise's life save one, and were I that one, think you I could speak
favorably of the wretch? No." said the doctor, impetuously.
Louise, partially restored to good humor, had managed to slip behind
her brother, where she stood making all sorts of admonitory gestures
to her lover, who had not as yet, been let into the secret of the
change in his friends's relation to Little Wolf.
But the doctor could not; or would not take Louise's hints, and he
went on hotly. "Curse the business! I say. Curse the man, who, with
his eyes open to the consequences, engages in it. The law could, and
should, make him responsible. Hank Glutter is the man who ought to
have been compelled to indemnify Miss DeWolf for the losses she
sustained on that dreadful day when Wycoff came so near dashing her
over the precipice. It was he who tempted the man to drink, until he
became drunk, and did the mischief, to repair which he sacrificed his
favorite horse. Thank God it was by Hank's own confession, the
animal's noise that brought about the burning of the brewery. It is
some comfort that God now and then legislates on the traffic, when men
will not."
The doctor paused, and, as no one seemed inclined to make any
comments, he began to speak more calmly, and on a subject which he
flattered himself would be more agreeable.
"I have just been down to bind up Daddy's bruises," he said, "but his
lovely nurse had done all that was necessary. Then turning to Edward
with a meaning smile, "Ned, she is a right regal nurse. I almost
wished myself in Daddy's place this morning. It must be very consoling
in hours of pain to have a little angel smoothing your pillow, and
hovering over you with sweet words and gentle touches."
The doctor suddenly stopped short. There was an expression of sharp
agony on Edward's face that could not be mistaken. Louise had never
looked on him so before. Added to her sympathy for her brother, was an
indefinable pang occasioned by her lover's warm praises of another.
Mrs. Sherman, the picture of distress, looked helplessly from one to
the other.
The dinner bell was at that moment a welcome sound.