ALL through the night, the mind of Ellis was haunted with troubled
dreams; but, on waking, he felt calm, and good purposes were in his
heart. The manner of Cara still being tender and considerate, he went
forth feeling the strength of her love, and resolving, for her sake,
and the sake of his children, to free himself from his present
entanglements, cost what it would.
Seven hundred dollars was the sum he had lost at the gaming-table and
for over five hundred of this, Carlton held his obligations, payable on
demand. Besides this, he owed on account of temporary loans, from
business friends, about an equal amount. Moreover, on that day, a note
of three hundred dollars fell due; and in the coming ten days, about a
thousand dollars had to be paid into bank. The aggregate of all these
obligations, to be met within two weeks, was two thousand three hundred
dollars.
As Ellis looked at this formidable amount, and calculated his
resources, he felt, for a time, utterly discouraged. But a reaction
from this state of feeling came, and he set his mind vigorously to work
in devising means for the pressing emergency.
"There is one thing certain," said he to himself, as he pondered the
matter. "Carlton will have to wait. So there are five hundred dollars
pushed ahead. I received no value in the case, and shall not hurry
myself to make payment."
Even while Ellis thus spoke, a man called and presented the due-bills
he had given to the gambler.
"I can't take these up now," was the prompt reply.
"My directions are to collect them forthwith," said the man.
"Mr. Carlton will have to wait my convenience." Ellis spoke with
considerable irritation of manner.
"Shall I say so to him?" was asked, in a tone that involved a warning
of consequences.
"You can say to him what you please," answered Ellis, sharply.
"Oh! very well!"
The man turned away, and walked towards the door. He paused, however,
after going a short distance; stood, as if reflecting, for some
moments, and, then came back.
"You had better think over this a little;" said he, in a conciliatory
voice. "The debt is, I need not remind you, one of _honour_; and it is
neither wise nor safe for a man of business to let such a debt be
handed over for legal collection. You understand, I presume?"
The suggestion caused Ellis to start, involuntarily. He saw, at a
glance, the dangerous position in which he stood. Only by retaining a
fair credit would it be possible for him to surmount his present
difficulties; and his credit would be instantly blasted if a suit were
brought against him by a man he had now good reasons to believe was
known in the community as a gambler.
"You understand me?" repeated the collector, in a tone of marked
significance.
Ellis tried to regain his self-possession, and affect indifference. But
his feelings were poorly disguised.
"Just say to Mr. Carlton," he replied, "that it is not my purpose to
give him any trouble about this matter. I will take up the due-bills.
But I have some heavy payments to make, and cannot do it just now."
"When will it be done?"
"That I am unable, just now, to say."
"Can't you give me a part of the money today?"
Ellis shook his head.
"I have notes in bank, and they must take the precedence of all other
payments."
"To-morrow, then?"
"I have five hundred dollars to pay to-morrow."
The man's countenance began to lower.
"Just go to Mr. Carlton, if you please, and tell him what I say. He's a
man of common sense;--he will listen to reason."
"My orders to collect were imperative," persisted the man.
"Tell him that you can't collect to-day. That I must and will have
time. There now! Go! I've something else to do besides arguing this
matter fruitlessly."
The collector turned off with an angry, threatening look. A few minutes
after he was gone, and ere the mind of Ellis had recovered its balance,
a customer called in and paid a bill of a hundred dollars. This
awakened a feeling of confidence; and, in a hopeful spirit, Ellis went
forth to make arrangements for the balance of what was wanted for the
day. He found no difficulty in procuring the sum he needed, which was
four hundred dollars. After taking up his note, he called upon his
friend Wilkinson with the two hundred dollars he had failed to return
the day before, when, after apologizing for his neglect, he asked him
how he would be off in regard to money matters during the ensuing two
weeks.
"Tight as a drum," was answered.
"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Ellis, showing more disappointment
than he wished to appear; "for I have made some calculation on you. I
have nearly two thousand dollars to take care of in the next ten days."
"I wish I could help you. But, indeed, I can not," said Wilkinson,
looking serious. "I have been a good deal crowded of late, and shall
have my hands full, and more than full for some time to come. I never
knew money so tight as it is just now."
"Nor I neither. Well, I suppose we shall get through somehow. But I
must own that things look dark."
"The darkest hour is just before the break of day," said Wilkinson,
with an earnestness that expressed his faith in what he said. His faith
was born of a resolution to separate himself from all dangerous
companionship and habits, and a deeply felt conviction of the
all-sustaining strength of his wife's self-denying affection.
"Yes--yes--so the proverb says, and so the poet sings," returned Ellis,
thoughtfully. "This seems to be my darkest hour. God grant it be only
the precursor of day!"
"Amen!" The solemn response of Wilkinson was involuntary.
"And so you can't help me?" said Ellis, recovering himself, and
speaking in a more cheerful voice.
"Indeed I cannot."
"Well, help will come, I suppose. There is nothing like trying. So good
morning. Time is too precious to waste just now."
Between the store of Wilkinson and that of Ellis was a refectory, where
the latter often repaired for a lunch and something to drink about
eleven or twelve o'clock. It was now twelve, and, as Ellis had taken
only a light breakfast, and omitted his morning dram, he felt both
hungry and dry. Almost as a matter of course, he was about entering
this drinking-house, when, as he stepped on the threshold, his eyes
rested on the form of Carlton, standing by the bar with a glass in his
hand. Quickly he turned away, and kept on to his store, where he
quenched his thirst with a copious draught of ice-water. Not a drop of
liquor had passed his lips when he went home at dinner-time. And he was
as free from its influence when he joined his family at the close of
day. Cara received him with the kindness and consideration that were so
grateful to his feelings; and he spent the evening, safe from all
dangers, at home.