Chapter XXIV: Aunt Rachel’s Will, 337 (4)

I wanted my wife. I had not married Mrs. Oliphant, and was willing to dispense with the benefit of her advice. Perhaps it was reckless in me to do so, but no man had ever made up his mind on any point more decidedly than I had made up mine on this one. I attended to my duties as usual, but there was a sort of grimness about everything I did which astonished me, if it did not any one else.

At my usual hour I rang the bell of my house with a more intense anxiety than had before agitated me. If the savage measure I had taken did not bring Lilian and her mother to their senses, nothing would, and the breach must be regarded as permanent. I hoped and confidently expected to find my wife in the house, and I braced my nerves for the scene which must ensue. Biddy opened the door, with a sweet smile on her face which augured well for my anticipations.

“There’s a bit of a letther on the table for ye’s, sir,” said she, as I hung up my hat in the hall. “Shtop! and I’ll bring it to ye’s.”

“A bit of a letther!” Was that all? Of course it was from Lilian. She did not intend to surrender without conditions, Biddy handed me the missive. It was in my wife’s pretty hand-writing, but I was disappointed, and more than ever disposed to be morose. I opened the envelope.

“Come and see me this afternoon, Paley.

“LILIAN.”

That was all. The case did not look hopeful. If I went I must fight the battle with “dear ma.” I promptly decided that it would be worse than folly for me to heed this request. It was only an ingenious device of Mrs. Oliphant to carry her point by some new strategy. To go would be to throw myself into the toils of the enemy.

Biddy stood looking at me while I read the “bit of a letther.” If she did not suspect the trouble, she was more stupid than I supposed. She was a good girl, though her manners needed some improvement. If the wife was ill, the place of the husband was at her side. My gem of the Green Isle could reason out this proposition without exploding her brain. She must understand that a family tempest was gathering.

“Av coorse the bit of a letther is from the missus,” said she. “I hope she is betther.”

“Is dinner ready, Biddy?” I replied, trying to laugh.

“All ready, sir. Sure the missus must be betther, for she brought the letther herself.”

“She is better, Biddy. There is trouble between us.”

“Faix, I knew it from the firsht!”

“Let me have my dinner now, and we will talk about it another time.”

She seemed to be proud to have even so much of my confidence, and she flew around with an alacrity which was as creditable to her locomotive powers as it was to her Irish heart. Even her looks were full of respectful sympathy. I sat down to the table, and taking her place behind my chair, she waited upon me with a zeal which would have shamed the black coats of a fashionable hotel.

“In a word, Biddy, my wife refuses to live in this house with me. That’s all the trouble we have,” said I, as I began to eat my dinner.

“Bad luck to her for that same!”

It was very undignified for me to say anything to my servant, or to any one, indeed, about a matter of this kind, but I was absolutely hungry for a confidant to whom I could pour out my griefs. If the matter was to go any farther, I intended to send for Tom Flynn, and talk over the situation with him. It seemed as though my brain would burst, if I could not relieve it by exhibiting the cause of my sorrows. If Biddy had not known so much I would not have told her any more. I had informed her in the beginning about the “pleasant surprise” I was preparing for my wife. She had seen Lilian when she called, and it was stupid in me to attempt to conceal anything from her. I explained to her the difficulty as far as I deemed it necessary. Biddy was my strongest friend, then. She would not have left me even to save her “char_rack_ter.”

She rehearsed the whole matter, declared that I was an angel, and the house a palace. It was not only unreasonable, but cruel and barbarous, for my wife to refuse to share my lot. Thus spake Biddy, and I endorsed her sentiments. When I had finished my dinner I wrote a brief note to Lilian, declining to see her again, until we could meet in “our own house.” Biddy was a zealous messenger. She was instructed to deliver it without any words, and without answering any questions, for I was afraid she would take the matter into her own hands, and complicate the difficulty by attempting to fight my battle for me.

An hour later came the reply to my note. Lilian wrote that she was “quite indisposed,” and unable to leave the house that day. She wished to see me very much, and begged me not to deny her this favor. Perhaps she was sick. So was I—sick at heart. It would not be strange if the intense excitement attending this affair had made her ill; it had made me so. But I knew she was not so ill that she could not leave the house. She had delivered her own letter in the forenoon when she knew I was at the bank. Yet, if I did not see her when she was sick, it would make the story tell with damaging effect upon me. I decided to see her at once—to see her as my sick wife, and not to make terms in the quarrel.

In five minutes I rang the bell at the door of Mr. Oliphant’s house. It was opened as usual by Mrs. Oliphant. A smile of triumph played upon her face as she stood aside to permit me to pass into the hall.

“I am glad you have concluded to come, Paley,” said she.

This remark indicated that she was already in possession of the contents of my last note; in fact that she, and not Lilian, was fighting the battle.

“Is Lilian sick?” I inquired.

“She is not very well.”

“I will go up and see her.”

I went up.

“O, Paley! how can you be so cruel?” exclaimed she, with much nervous excitement.

“Are you sick, Lilian?” I replied, taking her hand, and kissing her as though nothing had happened.

“I _am_ sick, Paley.”

“I am sorry, Lilian.”

“Do you think I am made of iron?”

“Shall I go for Dr. Ingoldson?”

“I do not need a doctor so much as I need peace.”

“We both need that.”

“Are you going to drive me into that hateful house?”

“Certainly not, Lilian.”

“Did you write that cruel note which came this morning, Paley? I cannot believe it.”

“I did write it, Lilian; but if you are sick we will not talk about that,” I replied, tenderly, but firmly.

“But we must talk about it. Do you mean to say that you will print that horrid advertisement?”

“Most certainly I shall, if you persist in your present course. It is not right for me to support a wife who will not live with me. If you are sick, we will defer all action until you are better.”

“I am not well, but I wanted to see you about this awful business. Have you ceased to love me, Paley?”

“No, Lilian.”

Perhaps Mrs. Oliphant had tried to stay down stairs, and permit her daughter to pour out her griefs to me alone; but if she had tried, she had not succeeded; and at this stage of the interview she entered the room, without the ceremony of knocking.

“I am glad you have come, Paley, for we want to talk over this disagreeable business.”

“Lilian’s note informed me that she was sick, and I came to see her, but not to talk over any matter. If she is ill—”

“She isn’t very ill,” interposed Mrs. Oliphant.

I thought not; at least not too ill to discuss the exciting topic.

“I am glad she is not very ill. If she is, I will stay at her side and do all that a husband should do for a sick wife.”

“O, we can take care of her! But I wanted to ask you if you really intended to put that advertisement into the newspapers?”

“You will excuse me, but I have nothing to say on that subject beyond what I expressed in my note. If Lilian does not need any assistance from me, I will go. If Lilian is ill, I will defer the insertion of the advertisement until Monday morning.”

“O, Paley!” gasped Lilian.

“Are you such a monster!” exclaimed Mrs. Oliphant, her lips compressed and her eyes flashing in such a way as to indicate in what manner poor Oliphant had been conquered.

“I have nothing more to say, madam,” I replied, with all the dignity I could command.

I moved towards the door. Mrs. Oliphant was proceeding to rehearse the enormity of my offence, when I clipped the wings of her rhetoric by opening the door.

“Good-by, Lilian, if we are to meet no more,” I added. “On Monday it will be too late.”

I retreated down the stairs, and fled from the house, though Mrs. Oliphant made a lively pursuit as far as the street door, calling upon me with all her might to return.

I know that my lady readers are branding me as a barbarian, but I beg to remind them again that I was not fighting the battle with my wife, but with her mother. I was striking for my own and for Lilian’s independence. If I could not have her as my wife, I would not have her at all. I did not go directly home. I called to see Tom Flynn. He was not in, but I left a message for him to see me in Needham Street as soon as he returned.

I was tolerably calm, considering the amount of actual suffering I endured. Biddy was garrulous, and disposed to say harsh things of the “missus.” I checked her, declaring that Lilian was an angel herself, and that Mrs. Oliphant was the fomenter of the strife. Fortunately I was relieved from her comments by the arrival of Tom Flynn. The noble fellow looked sad when he entered, and I think he feared I intended to say I could not pay him the four hundred dollars on Monday, as I promised. He had not visited my house before, and he was lavish in his praise of the good taste displayed in the furniture. Perhaps it suggested him a doubt in regard to the safety of his money.

“Where is Lilian?” he asked. “I have not seen her for a month.”

The question opened the subject nearest to my heart. I began my story, and related it in the most minute detail up to the interview which had just taken place between my wife and myself. The noble fellow was astonished at the recital, and his countenance beamed with generous sympathy.

“I am very sorry for all this, Paley. It is an awkward and uncomfortable predicament,” said he.

“What can I do?”

“I don’t know. I think you are right in your main position, though I am not quite so sure in regard to your method of treatment,” he replied, musing. “I should not quite like to advertise my wife.”

“I don’t like to do it; but as sure as my name is Paley Glasswood, I will do it, if she does not come to this house before Monday morning!” I replied, quite excitedly.

“However, I don’t think you will have occasion to do it,” he added. “Oliphant has had the reputation of being a hen-pecked husband ever since I first heard of him. His wife is a strong-minded woman, and I suppose he found it cheaper to yield than to fight it out. He was a prosperous man formerly, but they say his spirit was broken by this domestic tyranny. I can’t advise you to back out, though I wish you had consulted your wife before you furnished the house.”

“That would only have transferred the battleground to another location. If I yield, I am lost.”

It was fully settled with the advice of my friend, that I should not yield. I explained that if Lilian did not like the house or the furniture after a reasonable trial, I would change either or both. Tom Flynn stayed with me till midnight, and told me a great many things in regard to the Oliphants that I was glad to know. It is enough for me to add that I had not misapprehended the character of “dear ma.”

The next day was Saturday. I went to the bank at the usual hour, and stayed there till the close of business. I wanted to go to Springhaven that day to make my assault upon Aunt Rachel’s purse-strings. The last train left at six o’clock. I was going home, and if my wife did not appear, I intended to spend Sunday at home with my mother. It was the last day of grace, both for Lilian and the money I was to pay Tom Flynn on Monday.

Biddy admitted me, but she had no tidings of my wife. Lilian had not come to my house, and had sent no message for me. Was it possible that Mrs. Oliphant meant to let the affair take its course—to make a “grass-widow” of her daughter rather than allow her to submit? It looked so, incredible as it seemed. After I had eaten my dinner, I wrote a note to Lilian, informing her that I intended to spend Sunday at my mother’s, that I would call at our house in Needham Street on Monday morning, and that, if I did not find her there, I should insert the advertisement in all the newspapers. It was then after four o’clock, and I sent the note by Biddy with the usual instructions.

I went up stairs to take a bath and dress for my visit. It was after five when I came down. Biddy had returned, and was busy with her work. I began to tell her where I was going when the door-bell rang.

“Bedad! the missus has come, and brought her mother with her!” exclaimed she, as she rushed into the dining-room where I was smoking away the half hour I had to spare before going to the train.

“Where are they?”

“In the parlor.”

It was not a very encouraging fact that Mrs. Oliphant had come with her. I went into the sitting-room where were seated my guests, for as such only could I yet regard them.

“I am glad you have come, Lilian,” said I, entering the room.

“But I have not come to stay,” she interposed, promptly.

“Then I am sorry you have come,” I added, as promptly.

“It is terrible, Paley, to think that my husband is prepared to desert me, and to advertise me in the newspapers,” said she.

“It is just as terrible for me to be deserted as for you, Lilian. I hope you will think well of it before it is too late.”

“I came over to see about this business, Mr. Glasswood,” interposed Mrs. Oliphant, stiffly.

“Nothing need be said, madam. I must add that I decline to discuss the question at all.”

“That’s a pretty way, sir!” continued she. “You married my daughter, and you promised—”

“I know I did, madam, and she promised, too. If she does not choose to occupy the house I have provided for her, that is the end of the whole matter; and also the end of all argument. I am going to Springhaven now. I have nothing more to say, except to add that when my wife returns to me I will treat her as tenderly as I know how, bury the past, and seek only her happiness.”

I moved towards the door. Lilian burst into tears. I saw her glance at her mother, who sat in dignified stiffness on the sofa.

“Good-by, Lilian,” I said, glancing tenderly at her.

“No, no, Paley! You shall not go!” gasped she, springing into my arms. “I will stay here!”

“Lilian!” exclaimed her mother, springing to her feet.

She was my wife then.

_CHAPTER XI._

OVER THE PRECIPICE.

LILIAN was in my arms again, and all that I had suffered was compensated for by the bliss of the moment. I think she had been thoroughly aroused by the peril of her situation, and it was only at the last possible moment, as she understood the case, that she yielded. Lilian was human, like the rest of the world, and she was fond of her own way. I was willing to let her have her own way, but when it came to giving her mother the control of my affairs, I was rebellious.

My poor wife sobbed in my arms, and I could hardly restrain my own tears. I would not have repressed them if Mrs. Oliphant had not been present. Lilian was conquered, but I was sure she had only reached a point which she had desired to attain before. I am not sure that this same battle is not fought out by every man and wife, however gentle and affectionate they may be. Some husbands are brutes, some wives are head-strong, but each is always jealous of individual power and influence. I think Lilian was disposed to adopt the tactics of her mother, and rule her own household; but now she had suddenly become a gentle and submissive wife, and had thus placed herself in a position to be potential in regard to her husband.

Mrs. Oliphant was disgusted. She frowned savagely upon both of us. She realized that her influence was gone forever, if this state of feeling existed. Her cherished plan fell through and was a wreck beyond the possibility of redemption. I do not wonder that she was disgusted, for it was no trivial thing to be suddenly deprived of the handsome income she derived from me, which I should have been very glad to pay her, if I could have done so, though not under the egregious cheat of paying her thirty dollars a week for board which was dear at ten.

“Lilian,” said Mrs. Oliphant, sternly, “I did not think you were so weak and childish.”

“Weak and childish, mother? Shall I desert my husband?” added my wife, gently.

“It is not for me to say any thing, for I never interfere between man and wife,” continued “dear ma,” in the tone of a martyr. “But I can’t help thinking that your husband is very unreasonable. It isn’t every child that has so good a home as you have, and parents who are willing to slave themselves to death for her! And this is all the thanks they get for it!”

“Why, dear ma, what have I done?” asked Lilian, horrified at the implied charge of ingratitude.

“Nothing, nothing! It is no matter!” replied Mrs. Oliphant, with a vigorous effort to appear like a much-abused person. “I suppose it is a mother’s lot to be deserted by her children.”

“Deserted, mother!” exclaimed my poor wife.

“I would not say any thing, Lilian,” I whispered to her.

“After I had made all my arrangements to board you, suddenly, and without a word of notice you go off and leave me. What have I done to merit this treatment?”

Lilian followed my suggestion, and made no reply.

“Well, I suppose I am not wanted here, and I may as well go,” she said, flouncing up, and aiming for the door.

“On the contrary, Mrs. Oliphant, we shall both be very glad to have you come here as often and stay as long as you can,” I added.

“Yes, mother, my house shall be your house,” said Lilian, warmly and with much feeling.

“It is easier to talk than to do,” persisted Mrs. Oliphant, who was determined to be an abused person. “I’ll go home alone.”

“I will go with you, mother if you desire it.” interposed Lilian.

Mrs. Oliphant did desire it. It is quite possible she expected still to conquer our united forces.

“Send the wagon for my trunks, Paley, as soon as you please,” whispered Lilian, as she left the house with her mother.

I need not say that I lost no time in complying with these stealthy instructions. I hastened for the job wagon, but it was an hour before I reached Mr. Oliphant’s with it, for I could not readily find a team at that hour. The clock struck six, and I lost my train to Springhaven; but I hardly noticed the circumstance, so intent was I upon healing the breach in my domestic affairs.

When I arrived at the house, I found Lilian in tears, and a little inclined to yield again; but the appearance of the expressman seemed to strengthen her again. She permitted the trunks to be carried down, and the man departed with them.

“I cannot go, Paley,” said she, as she dropped into a chair.

“Why not, Lilian?”

“Mother is terribly incensed against me.”

“She will get over it in a few days. What does your father say?”

“Nothing,” said she, looking up at me, as though she thought I asked a curious question.

“The sooner we go, Lilian, the better it will be for all of us,” I suggested.

“I will go, Paley, but I am afraid I shall never be happy again,” said she, rising.

“Yes, you will, my dear. Your mother will be the same as ever by to-morrow.”

We went down stairs, and found Mrs. Oliphant in the parlor.

“Good-by, mother. I shall come to see you every day,” said Lilian, trying to be cheerful.

“Good-by, Lilian,” replied Mrs. Oliphant, in a tone which indicated the depth of her despair.

Lilian said good-by to her sisters, and hoped both of them would come to the house in Needham Street every day, Sundays not excepted. Then we went home. Blessed word! It meant more to me than ever before. I need hardly add that we talked of nothing during the evening but the exciting topic of the day, though I tried frequently to change the subject.

Biddy was the happiest girl outside of Ireland, for though my wife was very sad, she was still the “missus” in her own house. Lilian confessed to me that she liked the house very much; that she would not have had it any different if she had been consulted, but her mother was so anxious to have us remain at her house that she could not think of such a thing as leaving her. If her mother could only be satisfied with the new arrangement, she should be as happy as any mortal in existence.

I hoped for the best. I did not count upon any continued opposition from Mrs. Oliphant, as it was so obviously for her interest to keep the peace now that the Rubicon had been passed. If I had not been so busily occupied in smoothing the path for Lilian, I should have made myself very miserable over my failure to visit Springhaven. I had four hundred dollars to pay on Monday, with nothing on hand to meet the demand. It was an ugly subject, and I avoided it as much as possible in my meditations, though it would often flash upon me. I could not disappoint Tom Flynn.

I took an early walk on Sunday morning, and invited Tom to drop in upon us to dinner that day, which he did. He was delighted to see Lilian in her new home, and congratulated me privately upon the happy issue of the difficulty. In the afternoon Mr. Oliphant called. We showed him all over the house, and the old gentleman appeared to be in raptures. Then Bertha and Ellen came, and they visited every part of the new mansion, expressing their entire satisfaction with all the arrangements.

After church, Tom called again, for he never staid away from service for any reason, forenoon or afternoon. We sang psalm tunes till nine o’clock in the evening, and truly home was home to me then, as it had never been before. Bertha was a splendid singer, and I noticed that Tom, who was very fond of music, appeared to be more interested in her than I had ever before observed. He went home with her, and I ventured to hope that my example would not be without its influence upon him.

When I went to the bank the next morning, Tom told me, in the most careless manner in the world, that Bertha was a very pretty girl, and a magnificent singer. Of course I agreed with him, but the sight of my friend thrust upon me, more forcibly than any other consideration, the ugly fact that I owed him four hundred dollars, due that day. I had not the courage to ask him for further time. My honor, and more than that, my pride, were involved. What could I do?

I might run down to Springhaven at night. No, I could not leave, for, at church and elsewhere, we had invited all our friends to call upon us, and I expected to see company every evening during the week. I must be at home. The money must be paid. There was no possible way by which I could honorably postpone it.

“What time to-day do you want that little matter of money I owe you, Tom?” I asked of my friend.

“As soon after bank hours as convenient.”

“You shall have it at half-past two. I must go up the street for it, and can’t leave very well before the bank closes.”

“All right; it will do at three,” added my obliging friend.

What odds would it make to me whether the time was fixed at two or three? I was just as unable to pay it at one time as the other. A lucky thought occurred to me. I could call upon my uncle, Captain Halliard, who would no doubt be glad to redeem his credit with me by lending me any reasonable sum I wanted. In a week or so I could find time to see Aunt Rachel, and as I was her favorite, she would put me in funds.

The bank closed. I was in a tremor of anxiety. Before balancing my cash, I hastened out to find my uncle. He was in the Insurance Office as usual at this hour. I asked him a great many stupid questions about indifferent matters, without daring to put the main question. He actually appeared to have forgotten that he had insulted and offended me. He was rather patronizing and stiff in his manner, and the result of the interview was that I did not mention the matter nearest to my heart. I was sure he would refuse if I did; and I could not be humiliated for nothing.

I was in despair. My heart was in my throat. My pride revolted at the thought of telling Tom Flynn that I could not pay him. I went back to the bank and balanced my cash. I counted over an immense sum of money. Four hundred dollars would make me happy. Mr. Bristlebach had entire confidence in me. Why could I not borrow four hundred dollars of the bank as conveniently as of Captain Halliard.

I trembled at the bare thought of such a thing. Thus far I had kept myself honest before God and man. But then I did not mean to _steal_ this sum. I would even put a memorandum in the drawer, to the effect that I was indebted to the bank for this amount. What harm? Who would be wronged by it? I intended to pay every penny of it back in a few days, as soon as I could visit my aunt. It was a little irregular, but even the cashier had done a similar thing within my knowledge. No one would ever know anything about it, and certainly no one would ever lose anything.

Why should I be tortured for the want of four hundred dollars, when thousands were lying idle in my drawer? Why should I humiliate myself before Tom Flynn, when, without wronging any body, I could pay my debt, make him happy, and be happy myself? I was certain that I could return the four hundred dollars. My aunt would certainly let me have it. My uncle even would lend it to me. I had property enough in my house to pay it three times over.

Why should I linger here at the brink of the precipice over which I had determined to leap? I thought, as hundreds of others have thought, in the same trying situation. I comforted myself, as they have done, with fallacious reasoning. I persuaded myself that, as I intended to pay back what I borrowed, and convinced myself that I had the means to do so, it was not dishonest for me to take the money. I assured myself it was only a slight irregularity that I meditated; that, even in the sight of God, it was only a trivial error of form. The Good Father judges us more by our intentions than by our acts.

Perhaps I had prepared myself for this step, as every young man does who permits himself to run in debt, who allows himself to be continually subjected to a fearful temptation by the pressure of obligations needlessly incurred. Certainly my experience in furnishing my house had prepared me for this temptation. It came when I least expected it. It was but a trivial form that I purposed to break through; not the law of honesty, of moral rectitude.

I took four one hundred dollar bills from my drawer, and slipped them into my vest-pocket. Everybody in the bank was minding his own business. No one took any notice of me. I think I must have been as pale as death when I did the deed, trivial as I chose to regard it. I wrote the amount in figures, on a slip of paper, and put it under the bills in the drawer. I convinced myself that this was a suitable acknowledgement of what I had done, which fully relieved me of every intention of doing anything wrong. It is astonishing how weak and silly we are when we are trying to conceal our own errors from our own eyes. The contents of my drawer were transferred to the vault, and I prepared to go home.

“Tom, I haven’t had time to get that money yet, but I will meet you at three o’clock, at the reading-room,” I remarked to my friend, as easily as I could.

“O, don’t put yourself out, Paley,” said the generous fellow. “If it is not convenient, let it go.”

“No, but it shall be paid. The money is all ready, only I have not had time to go for it.”

“I hope the matter has not given you any trouble, Paley,” he added; and perhaps I had not been entirely successful in concealing the anxiety which disturbed me.

“O no, not a bit! You see my affairs at home took up my time, and I neglected to attend to the matter on Saturday. Be at the reading-room at three, and I shall have the money for you, without fail.”

“I will be there, Paley. But what makes you look so pale?” he inquired.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been very well, and my difficulty at home has worn upon me. But I’m all right now,” I replied, assuming a very cheerful face, as I left the bank.

At the appointed time Tom was at the reading-room, and I gave him the four hundred dollars. The bills passed out of my hands, and it was forever too late to undo what I had done. I had leaped over the precipice beneath which lie dishonor, shame and disgrace. I was sorely troubled. My irregularity vexed me, and I felt as one tormented by a legion of devils.

The fact that Tom had noticed my altered appearance put me upon my guard. I tried to be gay and even jovial. I laughed, cracked jokes, rallied Tom on being in love with Bertha—any thing to banish from my mind the corroding feeling that I was a defaulter. I tore up my note which Tom handed to me. I invited him to come to my house in the evening. I invited him to come every evening. I know that I must have talked strangely. There seemed to be a twenty-four pound cannon shot in the centre of my brain. I wanted something to elevate my spirits. I went into a bar-room, and drank a glass of whiskey—a thing I had never before done, though I had taken a glass of wine occasionally.

The liquor inspired me. I drank a second glass, at another bar-room, and found myself capable of rising above my troubles. I went home. Buckleton was there, waiting to see me.

_CHAPTER XII._

A KEEPER IN THE HOUSE.

LILIAN opened the door, and kissed me as usual when I came home.

“Why, Paley, you have been drinking,” whispered she.

“I had a severe pain, and took a glass of whiskey. I feel fetter now,” I replied.

“There’s a gentleman waiting for you in the sitting-room,” she added.

“Yes, I saw him. It is Buckleton, an old friend of mine. I may ask him to dine with us.”

I think Lilian suspected something was wrong with me, though I am sure she had not the remotest conception of the nature and extent of the mischief which was gathering around us. Probably the smell of my breath startled her, with the added fact that I was a little flighty in my manner, for I believe that nothing can be more justly startling to a woman than the possibility of her husband becoming a drunkard. She knew nothing whatever of my financial affairs. I had never made her my confidant; on the contrary, I had weakly and foolishly assumed to be “full of money,” and behaved with a liberality and extravagance far beyond my means.

Buckleton was waiting for me. I owed Buckleton eight hundred dollars, for which he had no security. What did Buckleton want with me? It had been his own proposition to give me, under a liberal interpretation of his own words, unlimited credit as to time, if not amount. Why had he come to my house? I had been at the bank all the forenoon, and that was the proper place to meet a man in relation to business. Of course if I had not owed him eight hundred dollars, I should not have troubled my head about this particular visit of an old acquaintance.

However, I had drank two glasses of whiskey, and the circumstance of his coming did not trouble me much. I still felt light-hearted, and was not disposed to let anything trouble me much or long. I smoothed down my hair, and after drinking a glass of ice-water in the dining-room, which my parched tongue required, I entered the room where Buckleton was waiting for me. He was as cordial as though he had come only as an old friend. But exhilarated as I was, I could not fail to notice a certain constraint on his part, as though his cordiality was in a measure forced.

He was glad to see me. He had business at the South End, and thought he would call in upon me as he was passing. The messenger at the bank told me, the next day, he had been there to find me ten minutes after I left. But his coming at this particular time, he labored to represent, was purely an accident. He was glad to see me so well situated. He hoped I should call on him at the West End with Mrs. Glasswood. He had not had the pleasure of knowing my wife, but he hoped to make her acquaintance. All these things he said with the utmost suavity, and then rose from the sofa to take his leave; but he did not take it, and I knew he did not intend to do so until he had said something about the little matter of eight hundred dollars that I owed him. He had his hat in his hand, and moved toward the door.

“Stay and dine with me, Buckleton,” I interposed. “Dinner is all ready, and I should be delighted to have you.”

“Thank you! Thank you! I should be glad to do so, but I have to meet a gentleman at the store in half an hour,” he replied, consulting his watch.

“Let him wait; you needn’t be over half an hour behind time.”

“I can’t do that, for the fact is he owes me some money, and I am desperately short just now.”

Bah! I had given him the opportunity to say that, and it was now an easy step for him to dun me.

“Well, come up next Sunday, won’t you? And bring your wife with you. We shall be delighted to see you,” I continued, hoping to throw him off the track.

“I will, if possible; but I often find that Mrs. Buckleton has made engagements for me, and, if I remember rightly, her father and mother dine with us next Sunday. Besides, I have been so annoyed with business matters for a week, that I have not felt much like going into company. I expected a remittance of six thousand dollars from Havana, and learned the other day that the party had stopped payment. I don’t know what we shall do to meet our own notes. By the way, Glasswood, would it be perfectly convenient for you to pay the amount you owe us in a few days?”

“It would not be perfectly convenient,” I replied, squarely.

“I know very well that I proposed to wait for it, but, you see, this confounded Cuban affair throws us all out of groove; and we are in hot water up to the eyes. Isn’t it possible for you to pay it?”

“Perhaps it is possible, but it would be deused inconvenient. You know I should not have bought so largely if you had not suggested that I might pay for the goods in my own time.”

“We sold you, as you are aware, at the very lowest cash prices,” he added.

I was not aware of it, but I did not deem it wise to open any controversy on a subject so insignificant.

“I don’t see how I can do a thing for you, Buckleton, at present.”

“It would be a very great accommodation if you could. Half would be better than nothing, though we want every dollar we can possibly raise. I will discount five per cent. for cash.”

“That’s liberal, but it won’t help me much.”

“Think it over, and see what you can do for me, Glasswood. I am in a tight place.”

“I am sorry for it, but I haven’t got quite settled yet. I shall be able to pay you in a couple of months.”

“I may be in bankruptcy before that time,” said he, with a grim smile. “I will call and see you to-morrow morning at the bank.”

He went away. I thought I was inclined to stretch the truth quite enough in making out a case, but I could not equal him. He was in no more danger of failing than our bank was. The Cuban matter was a myth. I was satisfied that he had been examining into the condition of my credit. It was more than probable that he had heard rumors of my little difficulty at the bank, and had not heard of the triumphant conclusion of the affair. Shaytop had been whispering in his ear. Very likely my uncle had hinted that I was living too fast. Certainly some persons had been busy with matters which, in my estimation, did not concern them. I was indignant, and felt that I had been abused. Let me say to young gentlemen that shrewd business men usually know us better than we know ourselves, and see sooner than we which way we are going.

Lilian was waiting for me in the dining-room. Of course she wished to know “what that man wanted;” and I turned off the affair as best I could. I sat down, and for a sick man who found it necessary to take medicine, I ate a very hearty dinner.

“Well, my dear, how do you like the house, and housekeeping?” I said, in order to turn the subject from “that man.”

“Very much, indeed, Paley. The only draw-back is that mother feels so badly about it.”

“O, well! she will get over it in a few days.”

“Do you know, Paley, that I have been thinking of something?” she continued, looking up to me with that peculiar archness which indicated that she had a plan to propose.

“Have you, indeed? Well, that is not very remarkable.”

“I don’t know that it is; but why don’t you ask me what I have been thinking about?”

“Well, my dear, what have you been thinking about?”

“I’ll tell you, since you ask,” laughed she. “We haven’t had anything like a house-warming yet.”

“We have not. That was a great oversight. We will invite our friends, and have some nuts and raisins.”

“Nuts and raisins! And be called mean by everybody!”

“Well, what do you propose?” I inquired, though I was rather appalled at the idea of paying the bills for a large party.

“I don’t know; but if we invite all our friends, we must not be mean about it. Besides, I hope mother will come, and then we shall be able to make it all up.”

“I hope she will.”

We proceeded to discuss the details of the house-warming. Lilian thought it would be cheaper and more stylish to have Smith take charge of the whole thing. He would provide all the eatables, and place a cream-colored waiter in white cotton gloves in the hall to open the door for the guests. She thought it would be more “_re-church-y_,” and, of course, I could not stand up against this tremendous argument. As I was busy at the bank, she would call and see Smith herself the next forenoon.

She had just been restored to me, and I could not deny her anything. I think it would have broken her heart to know that I was up to my ears in debt; that I could not afford to pay Smith for even a moderate thing in his line. I ought to have told her the truth, the whole truth, but I had not the courage to do so. I knew very well that the life we had been living at her mother’s was just as distasteful and disagreeable to her as to me. She had consented to it for her mother’s sake, and had been a martyr since the day we returned from our bridal tour. I need not say that she was fond of style and show, and she had deprived herself of all these luxuries for the benefit of her family. The chain was broken, and the first thing was a party.

I could not help myself without being a tyrant. Smith’s bill at the outside could not be over a hundred dollars, and that would not kill me for once. It occurred to me that I would limit the expenses to one hundred dollars, but I did not see how they could exceed this sum; so I decided to let Lilian manage the whole affair to suit herself. I have no doubt she would have done very well, and that the result would have been satisfactory to me, but unfortunately my wife’s ideas were different from mine. By an act of grace on the part of a very wealthy gentleman to whom I had been able to render some service, we were invited to a great birthday party of his daughter, shortly after our marriage. Lilian’s pretty face and graceful figure made her a great favorite among the gentlemen, and she made quite a sensation. Of course I was proud of her and Lilian deemed it the most fortunate thing in the world to obtain the _entree_ of such company.

It never occurred to me that Lilian would attempt to imitate the style of my wealthy friend, or to invite any of the acquaintances she had made there. She knew that I was a bank-teller, on a salary of two thousand dollars, and of course she could not think of competing with a _millionaire_. I went to the bank the next day, and Lilian went to Smith’s. While I was looking at the morning paper, Buckleton appeared. He did not seem to have the same suavity which had distinguished him at my house. On the contrary, he was rather stiff and decided in his manner. I told him it was quite impossible for me to pay the bill at present.

“Glasswood, I must be square about this business. Things were not exactly as I supposed, when I sold you those goods. I must have the money or security for the debt at once.”

I was mad. Some one had been talking to him about me, and he had listened to the foe rather than to me.

“You seem to be putting a different face upon the affair. Yesterday you were short; to-day you are afraid of losing the money,” I replied, coldly.

“I only want to know what you are going to do.”

“You told me to pay for the goods when it was convenient. If you had not said so, I should not have bought them.”

“Give me a mortgage on the furniture in your house, and I will wait any reasonable time.”

“I won’t do it!” I replied, angrily.

“Very well; we needn’t talk any more about it.”

“You professed to be my friend, and were willing to accommodate me.”

“Circumstances alter cases. I have different information now.”

“What information have you?” I demanded.

“I am not at liberty to say. I never betray any man’s confidence. You are living beyond your means. I am willing to do anything that’s fair, but I must have the money or the security.”

“I’ll see you after bank hours to-day.”

“Perhaps you will,” said he, leaving the bank very abruptly.

Who had been talking to this man? I never knew, but I am forced to acknowledge now, what I did not believe then, that his information was correct. I was vexed and disconcerted, and as the forenoon wore away, and my wrath abated, I concluded to give him the mortgage on my household furniture. This matter was so absorbing that I hardly thought of the four hundred dollars I owed the bank till the memorandum I had put in the drawer attracted my attention. I do not know why I tore it up and threw it into the waste-basket, but I did so.

Mr. Bristlebach was very gentle towards me; so was the cashier; and I was confident that no one suspected my cash was four hundred short. The late inquiry into the condition of my department, instead of securing the bank, had opened the way for my first irregularity. I went on with my duties until about one o’clock, when I was not a little astonished to see Biddy come into the bank. My heart rose into my mouth. I was afraid that something had happened to Lilian, and that she was dead or very sick. But Biddy only handed me a note, instead of making the scene I had anticipated.

The note appeared to have been very hastily written, and was not in Lilian’s usually careful style. My name was scrawled hastily on the envelope. It occurred to me that Smith might have disappointed her, but I feared something worse than this. I tore open the note. The letter covered two pages, and it was evidently written under great excitement. I was alarmed, and hardly dared to read it, lest it should inform me that one of her family was dead.

I did read it, and it went on to tell me that, while she was away at Smith’s, a deputy sheriff had come to the house and attached all the furniture, and left a man there who called himself a “keeper.” She had talked with this man, and he had told her Mr. Buckleton was the person who had caused the goods to be attached. These were the material statements of the letter, to which Lilian added that the matter was “horrid;” that she never felt so strangely before in her life. She wanted to know if I really owed Mr. Buckleton a thousand dollars.

I was almost stunned by this heavy blow. Some observations I dropped in regard to Buckleton were not complimentary to that individual. I could not stop to think then. The first business was to quiet Lilian, and I wrote her a note, saying that Buckleton had taken offence at something I had said; that the affair was a mere trifle, and I would send the man away with a flea in his ear when I went home to dinner. I sent Biddy off with this note.

A keeper in my house! What could I do?

_CHAPTER XIII._

THE SECOND STEP.

“I TOLD you so!”

It was not easy for me to tell what to do. Eight hundred dollars and all the expenses of the attachment. The keeper was in my house at that moment and poor Lilian appeared to be frightened out of her wits. It was easy enough for me to flourish and call it a small matter, but I could not put my hand upon the money which was to lift the load from my shoulders.

What a crash there would be if this keeper was not driven from the house that very day! What a text it would afford for “dear ma!” How she would declare that it was a judgment upon me for my wickedness in turning Lilian from the maternal bosom! How poor Lilian would suffer under this terrible infliction!

It was galling to me even to think of exposing myself to the fire of Mrs. Oliphant, and I was willing to drown myself rather than suffer the punishment she could inflict with her tongue. It was horrible to anticipate her “I told you so!” It would be the sum total of all miseries to be pitied and advised by her. I must either run away and leave Lilian to her fate, or pay this debt; for I could not think of breasting the storm which would follow an exposure of my financial condition.

The cold sweat stood on my brow as I thought of the situation. But I was naturally hopeful and sanguine. If I had not been so, I should never have incurred the burden of debt which now weighed me down. I began to devise expedients; and Aunt Rachel was always the foremost of expedients with me. The venerable spinster had thirty thousand dollars according to the calculations of Captain Halliard, which was one-third more than I had ever supposed. It was currently reported, and currently believed, that I was to be her heir. It was true that the old lady had never expressed herself to this effect in so many words, but among our friends and relations this theory was fully accepted.

It could make no difference to her if she advanced one or two thousand dollars before she shuffled off her mortal coil. I had so easily persuaded her to let me have a thousand dollars, that I was confident the second thousand would come without much difficulty. If I could only find time to see her, I was satisfied my powers of persuasion would do the rest. I wanted twelve hundred dollars; but this sum would barely cover my pressing liabilities, and I made up my mind that fifteen hundred would come as easily as twelve hundred, and the difference would enable me to meet the cost of the attachment, Lilian’s house-warming, and other little matters which would appear before the next pay-day.

I had entire confidence in my own powers. I could put my hand on my heart, and say that I had always treated Aunt Rachel with kindness and consideration. I had always been a favorite with her, and I was positive that the old lady could not resist my eloquence. In fact, I was as sure of the money as though it had already been in my pocket; and as I considered the subject I became hopeful and happy. But I could not go to Springhaven that night, and in a few hours more that abominable keeper might reveal his presence in my house to the whole neighborhood. Lilian did not understand the matter, and if any of her dear friends called, she might relate to them the wretched story I had written in my note.