"The cause of my present state of mind is of such recent occurrence,
and I have become so bewildered in consequence of it, that I can
scarcely rally my thoughts sufficiently to reply to your kind
inquiries. Suffice it to say, that, in consequence, I presume, of my
having run off with Mr. Jackson's daughter, I have lost a good
situation, and the best of friends. I am, therefore, thrown upon the
world at this very crisis, like a sailor cast upon the ocean, with
but a plank to sustain himself, and keep his head above the waves.
When I married Miss Jackson, it was with the resolution to rise
rapidly, and show to the world that she had not chosen
thoughtlessly. Of course, I expected the aid of Rensselaer, Wykoff &
Co. Their uniform kindness towards me seemed a sure guarantee for
this aid. But the result has been, not only their estrangement from
me, but my dismissal from their service. And now, what to do, or
where to turn myself, I do not know. Really I feel desperate!"
"That is bad, truly," Arnold rejoined, musingly, after Wilmer had
ceased speaking. Then ringing a little hand-bell that stood upon the
table, he ordered the waiter, was obeyed the summons, to bring some
more brandy. Nothing further was said until the brandy was served,
of which both of the young men partook freely.
"What do you intend doing?" Arnold at length asked, looking his
friend in the face.
"I wish you would answer that question for me, for it's more than I
can do," was the gloomy response.
"You must endeavour to rise in the world. It will never do to bring
Constance down to the comparatively mean condition in which a clerk
with a small salary is compelled to live."
"That I know, too well. But how am I to prevent it? That is what
drives me almost beside myself."
"You must hit upon some expedient for making money fast."
"I know of no honest expedients."
"I think that I do."
"Name one."
"Do you know Hardville?"
"Yes."
"He came as near failure as could possibly be, last week."
"He did?"
"Yes."
"And how did he get through?"
"It is the answer to that question which I wish you to consider. He
was saved from ruin in the last extremity, and by what some would
call a desperate expedient. Your case is a desperate one, and, if
you would save yourself, you must resort to desperate expedients,
likewise."
"Name the expedient."
"Hardville had one thousand dollars to pay, more than he could
possibly raise. He tried everywhere, but to no purpose. He could
neither borrow nor collect that sum. In a moment of desperation, he
put one hundred dollars into his pocket, and went to a regular
establishment near here, and staked that sum at play. In two hours
he came away with twelve hundred dollars in his pocket, instead of
one hundred. And thus he was saved from ruin."
When Arnold ceased speaking, Wilmer looked him in the face with a
steady, stern, half-angry look, but made no reply.
"Try another glass of this brandy," the former said, pouring out a
pretty liberal supply for each. Mechanically, Wilmer put the glass
to his lips, and turned off the contents.
"Well, what do you think of that plan?" asked the friend, after each
had sat musing for some time.
"I am not a gambler!" was the reply.
"Of course not. But your case, as I said, and as you admit, is a
desperate one; and requires desperate remedies. The fact of your
going to a regular establishment, and gaining there, in an
honourable way, something, as a capital to begin with, does not make
you a gambler. After you have got a start, you needn't go there any
more. And all you want is a start. Give you that, and, my word for
it, you will make your way in the world with the best of them."
"O, yes! Give me a start, as you say, and I'll go ahead as fast as
anybody. Give me that start, and I'll show old Mr. Jackson in a few
years that I can count dollars with him all day."
"Exactly. And that start you must have. Now, how are you going to
get it, unless in the way that I suggest?"
"I am not so sure that I can get it in that way."
"I am, then. Only make the trial. You owe it to your wife to do so.
For her sake, then, let me urge you to act promptly and
efficiently."
Thus tempted, while his mind was greatly obscured by the strong
potations he had taken, Theodore Wilmer began to waver. It did not
seem half so wrong, nor half so disgraceful, to play for money, as
it did at first. Finally, he agreed to meet his friend that evening,
and get introduced to some one of the many gambling establishments
that infest all large cities.
A reaction in his feelings now took place. The elation of mind
caused by the brandy, made him confident of success. He saw before
him a rapid elevation to wealth and standing in society, and,
consequently, a rapid restoration of Constance to the circle in
which she had moved.
Before marriage, he had rented a handsome house, and had it
furnished in very good style, upon means which he had prudently
saved from a liberal salary. Into this, he at once introduced his
young wife, who had already begun to feel her heart yearning for her
mother's voice, and her mother's smile. One young friend had been
with her all the morning, but had left towards the middle of the day
Alone, for the first time, since her hurried marriage, her feelings
became somewhat saddened in their hue. But as the hour approached
for her husband to come home, those feelings gate place, in a
degree, to an ardent desire for his return, the result of deep and
fervent love for him. She had sat for some moments, expecting to
hear him at the door, when the bell rung, and she started to her
feet, and stood on the floor, ready to spring forward the moment he
should enter the room. No one, however, came in, and her heart sunk
in her bosom with the disappointment. In a moment after, the servant
handed her a note, the seal of which she broke hastily. It was from
her husband, and ran thus:--
"DEAR CONSTANCE:--An accumulation of business in my absence so
presses upon me now, that I cannot possibly come so great a distance
to dinner, at least for this day. It may likewise keep me away until
eight or nine o'clock this evening. But keep a good heart, dear; our
meeting will be pleasanter for the long absence--Adieu,