Chapter XXIV: Aunt Rachel’s Will, 337 (3)

“I shall go to the new house to-morrow, after bank hours. If you will not go with me, I cannot help it; and I must go alone.”

“Do you mean to say that you will desert me?” gasped she.

“Lilian, I will not pretend to say that what I have done is right, though I did it to please you. I have provided you a house much better than the home of your parents. I have done everything I could to make it comfortable and pleasant. I am sorry I did this without your knowledge, but it is done, and cannot be undone. If you will live in the house for a year or so, and then are not happy, I will leave it. I can do no more to please you.”

“I will not move into it!” said she, more bitterly than ever.

I went out of the house, and walked the streets till eleven o’clock at night in utter misery. I returned home. Lilian told me ever so many things her mother had said, and was firmer than ever. The next morning when I went to the bank, I felt like a hopeless martyr.

“Mr. Bristlebach wishes to see you in the director’s room, Mr. Glasswood,” said the messenger to me.

The president looked stern when I entered the room, and I realized that some charge was pending against me.

_CHAPTER VII._

A SHADOW OF SUSPICION.

I HAD not sinned against the bank in thought, word, or deed, and I had no fears of the result of an interview with the president. All my sorrows related to my domestic difficulty, which was hardly banished from my mind for a moment, though I did try to imagine what Mr. Bristlebach could possibly want of me. Whatever pecuniary trouble stared me in the face, I had never even been tempted to appropriate a penny belonging to the bank.

“Mr. Glasswood, I have sent for you,” said Mr. Bristlebach, sternly.

“Yes, sir; and I am here,” I replied, very respectfully.

“When did you balance your cash last?”

“Yesterday afternoon.”

“Did it come out right?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, with the utmost confidence.

“Close the door, if you please.”

I did so, and though Mr. Bristlebach did not often take the trouble to spare any one’s feelings, this order looked ominous to me. I would give all my earthly hopes at this moment for the consciousness of the rectitude of my character which I possessed at that time. I shut the door, and took my stand again in the august presence of the great man—he was great to me, if he was not to others.

“Mr. Glasswood!” continued Mr. Bristlebach, sternly.

I bowed meekly, to intimate that I was ready to hear anything he pleased to say.

“Your cash is not right.”

“It was right yesterday, at three o’clock,” I answered.

“If it was right at three, it was not at five. I advise you, Mr. Glasswood, to make no denials to any statement which you know to be true. You are a defaulter, sir!”

Troubles never come singly. It was not enough that I should quarrel with my angelic wife, but I must cross swords with Mr. Bristlebach, who was far from angelic. I might as well find the deep water off Long Wharf and drown myself. What would Lilian say if I did? Would she care? Or would she be only shocked? Bad as it was, the affair at the bank did not seem half so desperate as the quarrel with Lilian. I bowed my head meekly to Mr. Bristlebach’s charge. I was innocent, and it did not make much difference to me what the president said. Under the shadow as I was of a heavier woe than this, it really did not seem worth while to defend myself.

“I say you are a defaulter, Mr. Glasswood,” repeated the president, more severely than before.

“No, sir, I am not,” I answered, very mildly.

“Have you the effrontery to deny the charge?”

“Yes, sir, I have.”

“You have robbed the bank of twelve hundred dollars, at least; and how much more I don’t know.”

“No, sir; I have not robbed the bank of twelve hundred dollars; nor of even a single cent.”

“I am surprised that you should have the hardihood to deny the charge. Shall I call on your uncle, who is one of your bondsmen?”

“If you please, I do not object,” I replied; and I think I should not have objected to any thing.

“Perhaps you will make the bank good yourself?” sneered Mr. Bristlebach.

“I don’t owe the bank a penny, sir.”

“Mr. Glasswood—sit down!”

I sat down.

“Listen to me, sir!”

I listened.

“I have worked up the case, and understand it perfectly. I am informed that three or four weeks ago you had in your pocket several hundred dollars—perhaps a thousand dollars or more,” continued Mr. Bristlebach, whose looks as well as his words were intended to carry confusion to my soul. “Will you do me the favor to say whether or not this statement is true?”

“Quite true, sir. The sum in my pocket-book was one thousand dollars,” I replied, beginning to gather up a little light on the subject.

“A thousand dollars! Very well, sir! I am glad you have not the effrontery to deny it. Bank officers in your situation do not usually carry a thousand dollars about with them.”

“I do, when I have it to carry, sir.”

“Don’t be impudent, Mr. Glasswood. Will you deny that this sum was abstracted from the funds of the bank?”

“Certainly I shall deny it, sir. Did Mr. Shaytop inform you that I had taken it from the bank?”

“Who said anything about Mr. Shaytop?” demanded he, sternly.

“I did, sir. It is not very manly in him to accuse me of stealing simply because I refused to hire any more teams of him. Since I was married I have found it necessary to curtail my expenses.”

“Do not attempt to dodge the issue, sir.”

“I am ready to look the issue fairly in the face.”

“You had this money. You confess it.”

“I affirm it. I don’t confess it.”

“Since you had it, perhaps you will not deem it impertinent in me to ask where you got it?” sneered Mr. Bristlebach, who seemed to be as certain that I had robbed the bank as though he had already proved the charge.

“Under the circumstances, sir, I should not deem it impertinent,” I replied coolly; and, under the influence of my domestic trouble, I felt rather reckless.

“Well, sir, where did you get it?”

“I borrowed it.”

“Precisely so! Borrowed it of the bank!”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Bristlebach, but there is a wide gulf between my premise and your conclusion. I did not borrow the money of the bank. If I had, doubtless the paper I offered would have passed under your eyes.”

“Mr. Glasswood, your tone and manner do not please me.”

“I hope you will excuse me, sir, if I venture to say that the charge you make against me does not please me.”

“Will you tell me of whom you borrowed the money?”

“With pleasure, sir. Of my Aunt Rachel.”

Mr. Bristlebach looked at me; looked sharply at me. He seemed to be a little staggered at something, though, of course, I did not suppose he believed me. He asked me twenty questions about my aunt, all of which I answered with a greater regard for the truth than I was sometimes in the habit of paying to that sublime virtue.

“Mr. Glasswood, your cash is twelve hundred dollars short,” he added.

“I was not aware of the fact,” I replied.

“After you went away yesterday, I made a strict examination of your department, and you have heard the result.”

I was surprised at the announcement, and of course I could not disprove the assertion.

“I can only say, sir, that I left it right at three o’clock yesterday,” I added.

“Do you doubt my statement?”

“Certainly not, sir; but I do not understand it.”

“The fact that you had a thousand dollars, or any large sum about you, and that you recklessly exhibited it in the dining-room of a hotel, was quite enough to excite my suspicions.”

“If I had stolen the money, I think I should not have been so stupid as to exhibit it. If I know myself, I should not.”

“But you did show it.”

“I did show it; but it was not stolen.”

“I think it was; and when I heard of the circumstances, I spent my afternoon here in making the investigation. Perhaps you can put me in the way of verifying your statement that you borrowed the money of your aunt?”

“I shall be very glad to do so. My aunt lives in Springhaven. She will show you my note.”

“Even if she does show me your note, and it is fully proved that you borrowed a thousand dollars of her, that will not explain how your cash happens to be twelve hundred dollars short.”

“Perhaps I can explain that myself, if you will allow me to examine my drawer,” I replied.

Just then a light flashed through my mind, and I recalled an incident which had occurred just after the closing of the bank on the preceding day, which my private griefs had driven out of my head. I understood it all then, and I was satisfied that I should utterly confound Mr. Bristlebach, though I was, at the same time, in danger of confounding the cashier. But the clock was striking nine, and it was time to open the bank. There was not time to count the cash again, and I did not care to expose a little irregularity on the part of the cashier, by telling what I knew.

Mr. Bristlebach bit his lips and looked at the clock. Through the glass windows of the directors’ room, he saw a man come in with a check in his hand. He was evidently deliberating upon the propriety of permitting me to discharge my duties for the forenoon. We were one hand short, and there was no one to take my place.

“Mr. Glasswood, you will not go out of the bank, even for a moment, until this matter is settled. Go to your place, and as soon as the bank closes, we will count the cash again in your presence.”

I went to my station, after taking my drawer from the safe. I was now not quite willing to believe that the president considered me guilty. If he did, he would not trust me with the funds of the bank, though he had forbidden me to leave the building. I proceeded in the discharge of my duties as usual, but I soon discovered that the eyes of my superiors were upon me, and if I had been disposed to indulge in a _coup d’etat_, I was too closely watched to permit it to be a success.

Within half an hour after the opening of the bank, the cashier handed me twelve hundred dollars in payment for a draft, which had been placed in my keeping, and which I had deposited in the safe. Just after the bank closed the day before, he had accommodated a friend from my department, by giving him the cash for this draft on a bank, which, for some reasons best known to its officers, declined to pay it after bank hours. It is not for me to discuss the propriety of this action on the part of my superior. It was irregular, and the cashier was personally responsible for his conduct. The draft had been handed to me, and I included it in my cash in balancing.

I learned that the cashier had not been present when the president counted my cash. The book-keeper and receiving teller had assisted him, and as the draft was not in my drawer, the amount appeared to be a deficit on my part. It was very strange to me that I did not think of this transaction sooner.

Perhaps if my family trouble had not perplexed me, I should have done so. But it came to my mind soon enough to correct the impression in the mind of the president, if I had not chosen to suffer rather than betray the irregularity of my superior.

“That makes it all right,” said the cashier, as he slipped the bills into my drawer, rather slyly.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Heavyside,” I replied, in a low tone, for Mr. Bristlebach seemed to be all eyes and ears on this forenoon.

“What do you mean, Glasswood?” he asked.

“What time did you leave the bank yesterday?”

“About three. I went out to ride with my wife.”

“Where do you get your teams?”

“Of Shaytop. Why do you ask?”

“My cash was examined yesterday afternoon, after both of us left; and I am charged with a deficit of twelve hundred dollars.”

“Whew!” whistled Heavyside, more alarmed than I was.

He stood by my side at the counter while I told him that Shaytop “had put a flea into the ear of the president” on my account.

“The scoundrel! I will never drive another of his teams!” exclaimed the cashier.

Shaytop was not likely to make much by his snivelling operation, which was too mean for any gentleman to appreciate. There was no ground for a charge against me, and I think the stable-keeper made it out of pure malice.

“I said nothing to Mr. Bristlebach about the draft,” I continued; “and he still thinks the cash is twelve hundred dollars short.”

“This is bad,” said he, biting his lips with vexation.

I paid a check, and the cashier walked away to his desk. I saw that he was much disturbed. He was an honest man, in the ordinary sense of the word, and the worst which could be said of the transaction in which he was implicated was that it was simply irregular. He came to me again soon.

“Although this affair amounts to nothing at all, it will cost me my situation, and perhaps my reputation, if the president knows of it,” said he.

“He shall not know of it through me,” I replied.

“Thank you, Glasswood,” he added, warmly; but the conversation was interrupted so that nothing more was said on the subject.

Mr. Bristlebach was a very particular man, but I do not complain of him on this account. It was proper and right that he should be very exact, and even very exacting, in his requirements. Though Mr. Heavyside had no intention of defrauding the bank of a single dollar, he was imprudent. I believe he did not realize the nature of the act when he obliged his friend out of the funds of the institution. I was fully satisfied in regard to his integrity, and I was more disposed to suffer myself than to excite a suspicion against him.

I am willing now to acknowledge that my position was wrong. The truth should have been told in the beginning. Mr. Heavyside might have been censured, as doubtless he ought to have been, but I do not think he would have been discharged. If he had been, perhaps the tendency would have been to make bank officers more circumspect, more inflexible in the discharge of their duties. It is not safe to step over the straight line of duty even for a moment, for there is no knowing how far one may wander on the wrong side of it.

If this incident did not injure him, it paved the way for me to take a long stride down the road to ruin. When he consented to be sheltered from the displeasure of the president by the cunning of his subordinate, he placed himself, to some extent, in my power. A superior should never sacrifice his dignity before a subordinate, and should never place himself in the attitude of dependence upon him.

The business of the bank went on as usual. My griefs at home had robbed me of my appetite, and I had taken no breakfast. I was not permitted to go out for a lunch, and when the doors were closed my empty stomach and my sleepless night had produced an effect upon me. I was pale and faint, but I was too proud to say anything, and my looks told against me. I could hardly stand up, and doubtless Mr. Bristlebach thought he saw in my wan features and trembling frame abundant evidences of my guilt. He looked triumphant.

The examination of my department was commenced at once. The checks paid were called off, and the bills counted. To the intense astonishment of the president, and, I am sorry to add, to his intense chagrin also, the balance came out all right. There was not a dollar missing. Two counts gave the same result. Mr. Bristlebach was compelled to give it up. I persisted that my account had been squared the day before, but I suggested that some papers had been laid upon a few odd bills which had probably escaped his notice in counting—if I had been present the mistake could not have occurred.

The president stumbled through something which he intended for an apology; and while he was doing so, I absolutely fainted away from sheer exhaustion. Mr. Bristlebach was not a bad man, and I am sure he regretted his inconsiderate accusation. I told him I was not very well, and that the satisfactory result of the investigation was all I desired. I did not blame him. I thanked him for his fairness, and all that sort of thing. From that moment he had more confidence in me than ever—and Shaytop lost another customer.

A cup of coffee and a beefsteak set me right, and I started for my miserable home. I was thinking of meeting Lilian, when my uncle, Captain Halliard, stopped me in the street.

“By the way, didn’t I let you have three hundred dollars some months ago?” said he.

“I think you did,” I replied, blandly.

He wanted to talk with me, and led the way into an insurance office.

_CHAPTER VIII._

COMING TO THE POINT.

I WAS not pleased at the meeting, and ventured to suggest that I had important business at home; but my uncle gently dragged me into the insurance office. It was not pleasant to see him just then, and for several weeks I had avoided him, so far as it was practicable to do so. Captain Halliard was a rich man, and it could not possibly make any difference to him whether or not I paid the money I owed him. But I knew that he was exacting.

“I think you said you did borrow three hundred dollars of me,” said my uncle, as he seated himself at the long table and took out his pocket-book, evidently for the purpose of finding the note.

“There is no doubt about it,” I replied, with what self-possession I could command.

“Just so; I had forgotten the particulars,” he continued, as he took the note from the papers in his pocket-book.

He might as well have told me that I had forgotten it, as that he had; but I am sorry to say that both of us had a bad habit of pretending not to remember what, from the nature of the case, must have been uppermost in the mind. It was a stupid and ridiculous affectation. My creditors were often in my mind, and I am sure his debtors were as faithfully remembered.

“I am not prepared to pay the note just now,” I began, with more candor than I generally used.

“But, Paley, it is three or four months since I lent you the money; and you promised to pay it in a few weeks.”

His memory was improving wonderfully.

“I have just furnished my house, uncle, and that cost me a good deal of money,” I pleaded.

“But you got trusted for that,” said he, sharply.

“For only a small portion of it,” I answered, wondering how he could know that I owed any thing.

“Paley, how much do you owe?” he demanded.

“O, only a few hundred dollars! I don’t know precisely how much, but not more than I can pay in a short time.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” replied he, rather dryly. “In how short a time?”

“In a few weeks.”

“That won’t do. When I lend money to any one I expect him to pay me, whether friend or foe, in the family or out of it. I’m afraid you are getting along a little too fast.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Your wife is rather extravagant, I’m told.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Where have you taken a house.”

“In Needham street.”

“Humph! What do you pay for it?”

“Six hundred dollars.”

“Six hundred dollars!” exclaimed he, leaping to his feet.

“A very moderate rent for the house,” I added, not at all pleased at what I considered the impudence of my uncle.

“That is more than I pay, Paley. I’m astonished!”

“I think it is a fair rent.”

“I don’t think so. What did it cost you to furnish it?” he continued, fixing a severe gaze upon me.

“About eight hundred dollars,” I answered, not deeming it prudent to give more than half of the actual cost.

“You are crazy, Paley! You will run yourself out in a couple of years, at this rate. Eight hundred dollars! When I was married I didn’t spend a hundred dollars on my house. Paley, I will give you three days to pay this note. If you don’t do it in that time, I shall do the next thing.”

“What’s the next thing?” I asked, indignantly.

“I’ll trustee your salary!”

“You needn’t trouble yourself about the little sum I owe you; I will pay you,” I replied, rising and walking towards the door. “The next time I have occasion to ask a favor, I shall not go to a relation.”

Doubtless he regarded this as a very savage threat, though perhaps he did not think its execution involved any great hardship on his own part. I walked out of the insurance office with a degree of dignity and self-possession which would have been creditable in a bank president. My uncle must be paid. There was no doubt of that. I would not be thorned by him for all the money in the world, for he was a very uncomfortable sort of man to a debtor, and very obstinately insisted on collecting his dues.

It was patent to me that some one had been talking to Captain Halliard. Perhaps that mischievous stable-keeper had been in communication with him; and it was possible that my friend Buckleton had mentioned the trivial circumstance that I owed him eight hundred dollars. It was not impossible that Mr. Bristlebach and my uncle had been discussing my affairs. They were intimate acquaintances, and the captain did business at the Forty-ninth.

I must pay Captain Halliard, or there would be a tempest about me at once. Not that he would trustee my salary, or anything of that kind; for this was only a hint that he would mention the matter to the president of our bank. I must pay him, but how to do so, was a matter about which I could not venture an opinion. I had little money, and I had already bled my friends as much as it was prudent to bleed them. I must “raise the wind,” or go under. I walked up State Street, trying to think who should suffer next for my sins, when I met Tom Flynn. We never passed each other without stopping to speak, though we stood side by side in the bank during business hours. I saw that he looked embarrassed, and it flashed upon my mind before he opened his mouth that he wanted his money, and that he had made up his mind to ask me for it. I did not regard it as proper for him to do so.

“Tom, I’m glad to see you,” I began. “I wanted to meet you.”

“That’s just my case. I was going down to the bank to find you, after calling upon you at Mr. Oliphant’s. I wanted to see you very badly;” and the honest fellow looked more embarrassed than ever.

“Well, that’s a coincidence,” I replied, deeming it my duty to spare him any unnecessary embarrassment. “I have just had a call for a little money I owe, and it was not convenient for me to pay it. It was awkward, because I have a habit of paying up all these little things at sight, even if I have to borrow the money to do so. I shall be flush in three or four days, but I dislike to make this particular fellow wait. Could you lend me a hundred dollars till Monday?”

“I am very sorry, Paley,” replied the poor fellow, the wind all taken out of his sails. “The fact is, I’m short myself.”

“O, well, never mind it. I’m sorry I said any thing,” I continued.

“There was no harm in saying it to me,” laughed he, apparently more troubled at my necessity than his own. “I had a chance to buy some stock at a low figure, if I could raise the money to-day, so that the owner can leave to-night for New York. I am one hundred short of the amount required; but no matter; let it go.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t the amount about me,” I replied, with a troubled look. “Perhaps I can raise it for you.”

“O, no! I don’t want you to do that. You said you should be flush in a few days.”

“Yes; I shall have some money on Monday.”

“Well, then, Paley, since you can’t help me out, I can help you out,” said the noble fellow, with a generous smile. “I can’t buy my stock, and you may as well have the money as to let it remain idle.”

“Thank you, Tom,” I replied, warmly.

“You said a hundred dollars,” he continued, stepping into a doorway and drawing out his wallet.

“I said a hundred dollars, but only because I had not the cheek to mention more. I must raise three hundred to-morrow—but only till Monday you know.”

“Three hundred,” said he musing. “I think I can help you out.”

“Thank you, Tom. Next Monday I will pay you this and the other hundred I owe you. And by the way, I had quite forgotten that you held my note.”

“It’s of no consequence. I haven’t wanted it very badly. But I have a chance to invest what little I possess next week, and if I can get it then it will suit me better than to receive it now.”

“You shall have the whole next Monday, without fail,” I replied, though I had no more idea where the money was to come from than I had of the source of the Nile.

“That will fit my case exactly.”

“We will step into the bank, and I will give you a note.”

Every body had left the bank except the messenger, and I wrote the note. I had the three hundred dollars in my fist. I was intent upon taking the sting out of my uncle’s tongue. I meant to overwhelm him by paying my note before I slept. I parted with Tom in the street, and hastened to the insurance office, where I had left Captain Halliard. I found him tipped back in his chair in the inner room, talking with Mr. Bristlebach. I suspected that my case was the subject of their discussion.

“Is that you, Paley?” called my uncle, as I made a movement to retire.

“Yes, sir; but I won’t trouble you now, if you are engaged,” I replied.

“Come in; we were talking about you, Mr. Glasswood,” said the president. “I was just telling your uncle how well satisfied I am with you.”

“Thank you, sir. I am very much obliged to you for your good opinion, and I hope I shall always merit it,” I added, with becoming modesty.

“Do you wish to see me, Paley?” asked my uncle.

“Only for a moment, sir; but I will wait till you are at leisure.”

Mr. Bristlebach took his hat and left the office, saying he had no particular business with my uncle.

“The president of the Forty-Ninth speaks well of you, Paley,” said my uncle, good-naturedly. “I was glad to hear it, for I had a hint that you were going a little too fast. Bristlebach and I talked the matter over yesterday.”

“I’m glad you found it all right. Have you my note in your pocket now?” I continued, rather stiffly.

“Yes, I have it.”

I drew my wallet, and took out the three hundred dollars I had just borrowed.

“You needn’t trouble yourself about that just now,” said he, laughing.

“I don’t like to be driven into so close a corner as you put me into a little while ago. Here is the amount of the note, with the interest.”

“What I said was spoken under a misapprehension. You needn’t pay the note till you get ready.”

“I am ready now, uncle.”

“Of course, I don’t object to taking the money; but I didn’t mean to press you.”

“Didn’t you, indeed? You gave me three days to pay the note, and threatened to trustee my salary if it was not paid in that time. If that was not pressing me, I took it as a gentle hint. If I don’t know any better than to borrow money of my relations another time, I ought to be hung for being a fool.”

“I am sorry now that I said any thing, Paley. I will take it all back.”

“Take principal and interest also, and I shall be satisfied.”

It was not in his nature to refuse money under any circumstances. He gave up my note and pocketed the amount. It is quite probable that he wondered where I had obtained the funds so readily, and he even hinted at a desire to be enlightened on the subject. Perhaps he would suspect that I had taken them from the vault of the bank; but if he consulted Mr. Bristlebach on the matter, the messenger could inform him that the vault had not been opened during my last visit. To remove any such disagreeable impression as this from his mind, I said something about having a sum of money due me from a friend which I had kept in reserve for another purpose.

After the excellent character which the president had given me, I think my uncle was satisfied. He apologized for the sharpness of his words and declared that he had more regard for my moral welfare than for any thing else. Perhaps he had, but his ideas of morality were very indefinite, for he had helped me into my situation by pulling down Tom, though I must do him the justice to say that he helped my friend into his present situation, by declaring that new light entirely convinced him of the innocence of Tom.

I left my uncle with the feeling that I had completely overwhelmed him, and made him blush for his conduct. I was satisfied that I could borrow five hundred dollars of him within a reasonable time, and with a reasonable explanation of the necessity. The affairs of the day had improved rather than injured my reputation. My integrity and honesty stood at the highest point. I had made a friend of the cashier, who had stupidly placed himself in my power when open conduct would have served him better in the end. I owed no more than before, but I had hampered myself with a promise to pay Tom Flynn four hundred dollars the next Monday. I had said Monday, because I had a faint hope that I might go down to Springhaven on Saturday and get the amount out of my aunt, who had at least another thousand dollars salted down in her bureau.

There was time enough to think of this matter before the day of payment; but, if the worst came, Tom could easily be cajoled, and even made to insist upon my retaining the money another week or another month. While all these events were transpiring, the unfortunate relations which I sustained to my beautiful wife were hardly out of my mind for a moment. It was nearly six o’clock when I started for home, and all my thoughts were then of Lilian and the new house.

I was tempted to recede from my hard and trying situation, and I probably should have done so if I had not been endowed with a certain obstinacy, sometimes called firmness. It seemed to me that my wife was not my wife while she remained in the home of “dear ma.” Her mother had more influence over her than I had, and I could not be happy till I had redeemed her from this bondage. My mother-in-law was swindling me for the benefit of her unmarried daughters. I could not endure it any longer, and come what would come, I would not. I entered the house the saddest and most miserable man in the whole city.

The hour for final action had come. I had informed Lilian that I should move into the English basement house that day. I had ordered an express wagon to come for my luggage at seven o’clock. We had nothing to move but our trunks, in which, for the want of suitable closets, our clothing was still kept. I had seen Biddy in the morning, and told her to have supper for me at half-past seven. I went up to our room. Lilian was there. I saw that she had been crying, but whether from grief or from anger I could not tell. I put my arm around her neck and kissed her, as I always did, when I came into the house.

“You are late, Paley,” said she, in forced tones of calmness.

“I was detained at the bank by the president,” I replied. “But the wagon will be here at seven, Lilian.”

“The wagon? What wagon?” she asked.

“The wagon to take our trunks to Needham Street, Lilian.”

“You do not mean that, Paley?” said she, looking up into my face, while her lips quivered and her chest heaved with emotion.

“Of course I mean it, Lilian.”

“Do you mean to say that you intend to drag me to that house, whether I am willing to go or not?”

“Certainly not. I have never hinted at any thing of the kind. I only say that I am going; and going at seven o’clock this evening.”

“O, Paley! I did not think you would do such a thing!” sobbed she.

“I did not think, Lilian, after I had done all I could to please you; after I had carried out the arrangement we agreed upon when we came to board at your mother’s; after I had nearly ruined myself in fitting up the house, that you would refuse to live in it,” I pleaded. “I acknowledge that I have done wrong, but I cannot help it now. If you will go to the new house with me, I will promise to give it up in a reasonable time, if you are not happy there.”

“I will _not_ go, Paley! I have said it, and I mean it,” said she, spitefully.

“Very well. I am going at seven o’clock,” I replied, sadly enough.

I began to pack my trunk, while she sobbed in her chair.

_CHAPTER IX._

A LONELY HOUSE.

“DO you mean to desert me, Paley?” asked Lilian, sobbing bitterly.

“Does it look as though I meant to desert you when I have nearly ruined myself to provide a house that would please you?” I replied, as gently as I could speak, for I was not angry.

“But you say you will go to that house without me?” she added, looking up as if she had a gleam of hope that I did not mean what I said.

“I did say so, Lilian. I am going at seven o’clock, when the express wagon comes.”

“Don’t you call that deserting me?”

“No, Lilian; it will not be that I desert you, but you desert me.”

“But I never will go into that house,” said she, sharply, as she dashed away the tears that filled her eyes.

“Very well; then we need say no more about it,” I answered, placing the last of my wearing apparel in the trunk, and locking it.

I did not think you would be so cruel, Paley.”

“Cruel, Lilian! Do I ask anything unreasonable?”

“I think you do. You come home, and wish to pack me off at half an hour’s notice into a strange house.”

“I think I spoke of the matter last night, and told you I intended to go. If the time is too short, you may fix a day yourself to move. Name the time you will go, three days, a week, a month hence, and I will not object.”

“I shall name no time. I will not live in that house!”

“Then we may as well settle the matter now as at any other time,” I replied, with Spartan firmness.

“You will leave me, Paley?”

“I will.”

“O, Paley! Have I lost all influence over you?”

“I do not believe in this sort of influence. I repeat that I have done everything to please you; and before I told you that the house was for you, were you not delighted with it?”

This was a sore subject to her. I knew very well that she liked the house herself. Her mother intended to keep us in our present quarters, for the sake of the income to be derived from us. She could board us for ten dollars a week, and make something even at that, for salt fish and round steak form a cheap diet. I estimated that it cost five hundred dollars a year apiece to clothe the two younger daughters, and the profits on my board more than paid the bills. This was the whole matter in a nutshell. I do not think that Lilian was a party directly to the conspiracy, but she knew that it would upset all her mother’s plans if we left. Unfortunately for me, I had given the impression that I was made of money; that I not only had a large salary, but that I was the heir of Aunt Rachel, whose wealth was supposed to equal the capital of the Bank of England.

My wife was too proud to acknowledge that she had any interest in her mother’s scheme; it was safer to say that she did not like the house. I knew that her family was reduced to the greatest straits; that Mr. Oliphant’s income was utterly insufficient to keep up the style of former years. I knew that Mrs. Oliphant pinched herself in every possible way, that the prospects of her two unmarried daughters might not be injured. But I felt that I had done enough for the family when I relieved them of one mouth to feed, and one form to clothe. It certainly was not fair that I should pay the extravagant expenses of making the world believe that my wife’s two sisters were fine ladies.

I was fighting the battle for my own independence, and not less for that of my wife. I know that mothers-in-law are shamefully traduced, but only because such a one as Mrs. Oliphant is taken as a type of the whole class. I regard her as the exception, not the rule. Her plan required that she should hold my wife as a slave within the maternal home. In little things, I found that Lilian consulted the will of her strong-minded mother, rather than my feelings. For example, I once overheard Mrs. Oliphant tell my wife to induce me to go to a certain concert, simply because Miss Bertha desired to go. Lilian did induce me to go, and I went. She came up to the point by regular approaches. Not a word was said about Miss Bertha till I was closing the door behind me, as I went to the bank, when it was—“By the way, Paley, don’t you think we had better ask Bertha to go with us?” Of course I thought so, and she went with us. Lilian did not care a straw for the concert; neither did I.

This is only a specimen of the manner in which I was victimized. I not only dressed the two marriageable sisters, but I was to introduce them into society, by paying their bills at concerts, theatres, parties and balls. But this was not the most objectionable part of the arrangement. I could not endure the thought of having my wife made the cat’s paw for the monkey to pull the chestnuts out of the fire. She was not my wife, in the just and proper sense of the word. She did not think so much of my interests and my happiness as she did of her mother’s will and wish. Neither of us was to live for each other, but both of us for the Oliphants’ ambitious schemes. So thoroughly was I persuaded in my own mind of the justness of my position, that I was determined to stick to it, even if it resulted in a complete separation.

The door-bell rang, and we heard the sound of it in our room. I looked out the window. An express wagon stood before the door. The crisis had come, but I was as resolute as ever, and I expected to spend the night alone in the house in Needham Street.

“A man at the door wants to see you, Paley,” said Mrs. Oliphant, who did not keep a servant.

I went down to the door, and brought the man up with me. Lilian and her mother stood aghast. They appeared to be utterly confounded, and neither of them spoke in the presence of the stranger.

“That trunk,” I said to the expressman.

“Is that all?” asked he.

“That is all,” I replied, giving him the number of the house in Needham Street.

The man picked up the trunk and I followed him down stairs. I paid him, and he went off with my baggage. I was not willing to leave my wife without saying good-by to her, for I had some hope that she would yet relent. When my hand was on the door which I intended to close, Lilian called me from the stairs above. She came down, followed by Mrs. Oliphant. I hoped that both of them would understand me by this time.

“What’s the matter, Paley?” asked “dear ma,” trying to look pleasant.

“Nothing is the matter,” I replied, not caring to discuss the question with her.

“Lilian tells me you are going to your new house.”

“Doubtless she told you that before.”

“But I did not think you would go off and leave her.”

“Such is my purpose, unless she decides to go with me.”

“Of course it is not for me to say any thing about it,” she added, in her magnanimous way. “But I must say I think you are a little unreasonable.”

“Well, Mrs. Oliphant, I don’t care about discussing the subject any more. If Lilian chooses to desert me I can’t help myself.”

“Desert you! Goodness gracious! I should think it was just the other way, and you are deserting her.”

“I think not. If I provide a suitable home for my wife, it seems to me that she ought to occupy it with me,” I answered, meekly. “I do not wish to be unreasonable, but I think Lilian will admit that our plan discussed, and agreed to while we were on our bridal tour, was to go to housekeeping. I have provided a pleasant house, near yours, and furnished it in a style much better than I can afford. I have told her that, after occupying the house for six months or a year, if it does not suit her, I will conform to her wishes, whatever they may be. I think my view is a reasonable one, and I intend to adhere to it.”

“Is she to go there whether she wants to or not?” demanded Mrs. Oliphant.

“Am I to stay here whether I want to or not?” I replied. “In the matter of housekeeping, I consulted her, and we were of the same mind.”

“You will not leave me, Paley, will you?” pleaded Lilian, satisfied that her mother was making no headway in solving the problem.

“No; but you will leave me, Lilian. I am going now.”

“Don’t go, Paley!”

“Will you name a time when you will go with me, Lilian?”

“I cannot go, Paley! Indeed I cannot.”

“Good-by then, Lilian,” I replied, kissing her, while the tears gushed from my eyes.

I rushed from the house, without stopping to close the door behind me. I wiped away my tears as I crossed the street at a furious pace. I walked till I had subdued the emotions which crowded upon me. It was half an hour before I dared to present myself before the Biddy I had engaged, lest she should fathom the secret that worried me. I rang the bell at my house, and the servant admitted me. She opened her eyes wide when she saw me alone.

“Where is the missus?” asked she.

“She has concluded not to come, to-night,” I replied, hanging up my hat in the hall.

“The pretty crayture! Sure I’m dyin’ to have her in the house wit me!” exclaimed Bridget. “Is it sick she is?”

“She don’t feel very well this evening,” I replied evasively.

“Sure the supper is all ready for the two of ye’s. The tay is drawn this half hour, and the crame toast is breakin’ in flitters wid waitin’ for ye’s.”

“Very well; I will have my supper immediately.”

The tea and the toast were certainly good enough even for Lilian; but it was the most miserable supper to which I ever sat down. My heart seemed to be almost broken. I lighted the gas in the little sitting-room, and threw myself into the rocking-chair. I looked around the apartment. Everything was neat, tasty and pleasant. Was it possible that Lilian refused to share such a palace with me? No; it was not her fault. With her mother’s permission how gladly she would have taken her place by my side. Mrs. Oliphant evidently had not given me credit for any considerable amount of resolution. She was “the better horse” in her own matrimonial relations, and she found it difficult to comprehend any other than a similar arrangement in her daughter’s family.

I tried to read the newspaper I had brought home with me, but my thoughts were with Lilian. I turned over the leaves of the books I had laid on the centre-table. I went into the dining-room and smoked. I was almost worn out with fatigue and excitement. I was miserable beyond description. I went to bed at midnight, and I went to sleep, but it was only to dream of Lilian, goading and persecuting me, led on by a demon who was always at her side.

I rose in the morning, and found my breakfast ready at the time I had ordered it. It was such a breakfast as Lilian liked, but she was not there to enjoy it, and I groaned in spirit. I must go to the bank. I was not to see my wife, but I decided to write her a line—it was only a line:

“_Dearest Lilian_:—I shall _hope_ to find you at our new home when I come up from the bank.

“PALEY.”

I sent Biddy to deliver it, and told her not to wait for an answer.

I went to the bank. Everything was “lovely” there. Even Mr. Bristlebach was “lovely;” and that was a most unusual attitude for him. Captain Halliard dropped in to see me. He was “lovely.” Tom Flynn was in excellent spirits; but he took occasion to tell me something about his business affairs, so that I could distinctly understand what a sad mishap it would be to him if I should fail to pay him the four hundred dollars I owed him on Monday. I felt that I must pay him, and I decided to visit Springhaven on Saturday, and cajole Aunt Rachel into lending me the amount.

I went through my duties mechanically, but that day I lived on hope. I had ordered my dinner at home at half past three, which was the hour I usually dined. Lilian knew my habits, and I felt almost sure that I should find her in Needham Street. I believed that she loved me, and I could not believe that she would desert me. How my heart beat when I went into the English basement house! How it sank within me when Biddy failed to tell me that the “missus” was there. I dared not ask her any questions, lest she should discover the anxiety under which I was laboring.

I looked into the sitting-room. It was as empty as the tomb of all I desired to see. I went into the dining-room. The table was set for two, but one of the plates seemed to mock me. Lilian was not there. She was not in the kitchen. I went up stairs, but the same oppressive vacancy haunted every spot in the house. No Lilian was there, and without her the house was not home. The casket and all its appliances were there, but no jewel flashed upon my waiting, longing eyes.

There was no note in reply to mine. Biddy did not deliver any message to me. It was plain enough that she had not heard from the “missus.” I was sure that Lilian loved me, and that if left to herself she would come to me, even if I had been lodged in a prison instead of the palace I had provided for her. I ate my dinner alone and in silence. The dinner was a good one, but it would have been the same thing to me if the roast beef and mashed potato had been chips and shavings, so far as I had any interest in their flavor.

When the meal was finished I left the house, and wandered about the streets till tea-time. I kept walking without going anywhere; I kept thinking without knowing what I was thinking about. After I had been to supper, and Biddy had finished her work, she came into the sitting-room where I was looking at the blank sheets of the newspaper I held in my hand. She begged my pardon for coming. She wanted to know when the “missus” was to be at the house. I evaded an answer. She told me she couldn’t stay in a house with no missus in it. She didn’t “spake to a sowl all day long,” and she couldn’t “shtop in a house wid only a man in it. She had a char_rack_ter, and people would be talking if she shtopped in a house wid only a man in it.” Of course I was utterly confounded at this complication of the difficulty, but I told her that if the “missus” was not able to come by Monday she might go, and I would pay her wages for an additional week.

“God bless your honor! but is the missus sick?” she asked.

“She is not very well, and does not like to leave her mother yet.”

She appeared to be satisfied, and I was permitted to spend another miserable night in the loneliness of my new home. I heard nothing from Lilian. I thought she might, at least, send me a note in reply to mine; but I knew that she acted upon the advice of “dear ma.” That strong minded woman evidently intended to bring me to terms. If possible, I was more resolute than ever.

Before I went to the bank the next morning I decided to write one more note—one which could not fail to bring the unpleasant matter to an issue within twenty-four hours. It was in the form of an advertisement, as follows:—

“Whereas, my wife, Lilian O. Glasswood, has left my bed and board, without justifiable cause, I hereby give notice that I shall pay no debts of her contracting, after this date.

“_Boston, Aug._—. PALEY GLASSWOOD.

“Shall I insert the above in to-morrow’s papers?

P. G.”

I sent this epistle to Mr. Oliphant’s by Biddy. Though it was directed to Lilian, it was intended for her mother.

_CHAPTER X._

MY WIFE AND I.

I KNEW very well that this note would produce a tremendous sensation in the Oliphant family, and, as I walked down to the bank, I considered whether so violent a demonstration was justifiable. But I soon came to the conclusion that it was not a mere feint, and that if my wife would not live with me in Needham Street, she could not live with me anywhere else. If she did not choose to share my lot in the pretty residence I had provided for her, I would not pay her board in Tremont Street.