Nought's had, all's spent,
Where our desire is got without content.
'Tis safer to be that which we destroy,
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.--_Macbeth_.
Morton walked the street, on the next day, in a mood less grave than
had lately been his wont, but in one of any thing but self-approval.
"It is singular," he thought, "I could never meet her without
forgetting myself,--without being betrayed into some absurdity or
other. I thought by this time that I had grown wiser, or, at least,
was well fenced against that kind of risk. But it is the same now as
ever. I was a fool at New Baden, and I was a fool again last night,
though after a different fashion. After all, when a fresh breeze
comes, why should I not breathe it? when a ray of sun comes, why
should I not bask in it? But what impelled me to insult that wretch,
who I knew dared not and could not answer me?"
He pondered for a moment, then turned and walked slowly towards
Vinal's place of business.
"Is Mr. Vinal here?" he asked of one of the clerks.
"Yes, sir, he is in that inner room."
"Is any one with him?"
"No, sir." And Morton opened the door and entered.
Vinal sat before a table, on which letters and papers were lying; but
he was leaning backward in his chair, with a painfully knit brow, and
a face of ghastly paleness. It flushed of a sudden as Morton appeared,
and his whole look and mien showed an irrepressible agitation.
Morton closed the door. "Vinal," he said, "you need not fear that I
have come with any hostile purpose. On the contrary, I will serve you,
if I can. Last night I used words to you which I have since regretted.
I beg you to accept my apology."
Vinal made no reply.
"I saw Speyer in the street last evening, and tried to speak with him,
but could not stop him. He can hardly have any other purpose in
breaking his oath and coming here again, than to get more money from
you. Has he been to you?"
Still Vinal was silent.
"I think," continued Morton, "that you cannot fail to see my motive. I
wish to keep him from you, not on your account, but on your wife's. If
you let him, he will torment you to your death. Have you seen him
since last evening?"
Vinal inclined his head.
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know."
"Has he left the city?"
"I don't know. I suppose so."
"And you gave him money?"
Vinal was silent again. Morton took his silence for assent.
"When he comes again, tell me of it, and let me speak to him. Possibly
I may find means to rid you of him. Meantime remember this. He has
given your letter up to me. He has no proofs to show against you,
unless he has other letters of yours;--is that the case?"
Vinal shook his head.
"Then, if he proclaims you, his word will not be taken, unless I
sustain it; and I shall keep silent unless you give me some new cause
to speak. I do not see that he can harm you much without my help; so
give him no more money, and set him at defiance."
Morton left the room; but his words had brought no relief to the
wretched Vinal. Speyer had shown him his letter, and told him the
artifice by which he had kept it, and palmed off a counterfeit on
Morton. He felt himself at the mercy of a miscreant as rapacious,
fierce, and pitiless, as a wolverene dropping on its prey.