An American Story of Real Life CHAPTER 20.
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After a passage of many weary days, Mrs. Ware arrived at Galveston, her last dollar expended, and her heart trembling with fear lest some new disappointment awaited her. Happily, her fears in this respect were vain. Her husband met her at the boat. The moment her eyes rested on him, changed in appearance as he was, and even to her, sadly changed for the worse--she forgot the circumstances by which she was surrounded, the people present, and all things relating to the time and place, and flung herself, with wild expression of delight, into his arms.
To him, such a public exhibition of affection was anything but agreeable, and he restrained and checked her instantly with something so icy cold in his manner, that poor Bell's heart felt sick as it had often, alas! too often felt before--when repelled in like manner. Still, there were expressions of pleasure, strong expressions, at seeing her, and instant kind inquiries as to how she had been, and how she had fared on her long journey. Then came a hurried removal to one of the hotels, where she was received into a very comfortable room, which, by special favor, her husband had obtained, in expectation of her arrival.
"Dear--dear Henry!" she said, as soon as they were alone, leaning her head upon his shoulders, and bursting into tears--"I cannot tell you how constantly, for three long years, my heart has longed to see your face--to hear your voice--to move once more by your side. Thank Heaven, we are again united!"
"Never, I trust, to part again," was the reply, in an assumed tone of tenderness.
"Never--never!" murmured Bell. "For myself, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death!"
"How did you leave our dear little ones, Bell?" her husband asked, after a few moments.
"Well. But oh! what a trial. I wonder that my heart did not break in the struggle of separation! Truly, mine is a hard lot!" And the tears gushed forth afresh. "But may we not hope one day to have them with us, dear husband?"
"That time may come, Bell. But it cannot come speedily," was the reply. "Your father could never be induced to give them up. And it will, perhaps, never be in our power todemand them. But let us not burden this hour with thoughts so painful and oppressive."
Then, after a few moments, he asked--
"Tell me. Bell, all about your getting away from Philadelphia, and the particulars of your long journey?"
In accordance with this request, Mrs. Ware gave her husband an account of her preparations for coming away, her departure, and a history of what occurred to her during the period that elapsed from the time she left Philadelphia, until her arrival at Galveston. Beginning with the borrowing of one hundred dollars from Mary, and ending with an account of the expenditure of her last penny. In the ending of this story, her husband felt the strongest--indeed, it might be said, the only interest. Deeply was he disappointed to find that Bell was upon his hands, penniless, and not at all encouraged from her accounts of her father's state of mind, in regard to receiving anything liberal from him, if, indeed, a single dollar were to be obtained from that quarter.
"And so you have got her out at last," said his friend Handy to him, a few hours after, as they met in the bar-room.
"Yes, and a bad bargain, I am afraid, it will turn out in the end," was the half angry reply.
"Why so?"
"She came off with only a hundred dollars, and had to borrow that. It took every cent to pay her expenses here."
"The devil! I expected that she would bring with her at least five hundred or a thousand dollars."
"So did I. But, instead of that, she has brought only herself, which could have very well dispensed with."
"Her father will send her money as a matter of course, as soon as he learns that she is here."
"I am not by any means certain of that. From what I can gather, he was very angry when he discovered that Bell sent me money, and threatened her with his permanent displeasure, if she continued to write to me."
"You must try and wheedle him out of some funds through her."
"That I am afraid, will be hard to do."
"I am not so certain. Make her believe that you are in business here, and that by the aid of a little more capital, you could do very well. Represent yourself as thoroughly reformed, and deeply penitent for past sins and iniquities, and as being exceedingly anxious to maintain in society, an honest and honorable position. All this, with amplifications, she can detail to her father, winding off with a request for a remittance to aid you in this praiseworthy effort at reformation. That will do the business for us, I'm thinking."
"I cannot say that I feel very optimistic in regard to the result," replied Ware; "still something must be done, for business is dull, and luck is against an empty pocket."
Acting upon this suggestion of Handy, which was but a repetition of the substance of former suggestions, prospective of his wife's arrival--Ware made plausible representations to Bell in regard to his position, to business, his changed views, and his anxious desire to take a fair and respectable station in the community, and of his great need of money to enable him to prosecute his business with success. Entering into all he said, with a deep and lively interest, Bell at once volunteered to write to her father, asking him for money, which, under the new aspect of affairs, she was expectant would be promptly sent. Accordingly, she wrote at once, appealing to him with all the pathos and eloquence that her heart, warm in what she was doing, could express.
Then came the days of suspense. The looking, and anxious waiting for a reply. Weeks, and even months passed on, and yet this suspense was unbroken. No answer came. During the first part of this period, her husband treated her with every kindness and attention. But his manner grew cold as time elapsed, and no word was received from home. Again and again she wrote, but with no better success.
One afternoon, five months from the day she arrived in Galveston, her husband and his inseparable companion were seated in the bar-room of one of the principal hotels of the place, glancing over newspapers. Among these, were many old papers from New York, Philadelphia, and other cities on the sea board.
"Did you see this? suddenly asked Handy in a tone of surprise, pushing the paper he had in his hand across the table to Ware, and putting his fingers upon a paragraph. "Old Martin has failed in business!"
"O no, it cannot be!" was the quick reply.
"It is too true. Read that!"
Ware read the paragraph pointed out. It was, as Handy had said, too true. Mr. Martin had indeed failed. The truth was, the bankruptcy of his old friend, Mr. Ware, had very seriously affected him. Other losses, following in quick succession, so crippled his energies, and cut off his resources, that he had at last to yield to the pressure of uncontrollable circumstances, and sink down from his position of a merchant-prince, into a state little above mere poverty.
It was about the same time that her husband made this discovery, that Bell was running her eye over a group of papers, likewise from other cities. Many of them were old, bearing date some five or six months prior. Suddenly she startled, as a familiar name met her eye, and then bent eagerly down to read the unexpected paragraph. It was the announcement of her sister Fanny's death, which took place in New York a few days after her departure from home. It was with difficulty, that she could control an almost irresistible impulse to utter a cry of anguish, as the paper dropped upon the floor, so sudden and terrible was the shock to her feelings. For a long time she sat in a kind of stupor, unable fully to realize the dreadful truth. Then came a distinct and acute consciousness of the sad affliction, accompanied with thoughts of her parents, and children, and home, and touches of regret for having forsaken all for one who had already proved himself to have little true affection for the wife he had so often deceived, and had now lured away thousands of miles from her friends, with selfish and mercenary ends, already too apparent, even to her.
After the feelings of Mrs. Ware had calmed down, in a degree, she began to desire her husband's return, that she might communicate the sad news to him, and find in his sympathy, some relief to her distressed feelings. Yet even in this desire was mingled a consciousness that from him, little comfort would flow; for he had, of late, grown too apparently indifferent toward her, and too careless of her comfort--often remaining away until after midnight, and frequently not coming in until morning.
The afternoon passed heavily away--evening came, and hour after hour rolled by, until midnight, and still poor Mrs. Ware was waiting and watching for her husband--but waiting and watching in vain. After midnight, she threw herself upon the bed, and fell into a troubled sleep, full of distressing dreams--from which she awoke at day dawn, and found herself still alone. And alone she remained all through the day, her husband neither returning nor sending to inform her of the reason. On the following morning, Mr. Ware not having yet made his appearance, she had a visit from the landlord of the hotel where she had been since her arrival at Galveston.
"Do you know where your husband is, madam?" he asked, abruptly, and yet not in a rude or unkind manner.
"Indeed, sir, I do not," replied Mrs. Ware, the tears starting to her eyes, and seeming ready at each moment to leap forth.
"When did you last seen him?"
"I have not seen him since the morning of the day before yesterday."
"And never will again, in these parts, I'm thinking," was the rough, straight-forward remark of the landlord, not rude, nor meant to be unkind.
"O, sir! what do you mean?" ejaculated poor Bell, endeavoring to rise, but utterly unable to do so.
"I mean just what I say, madam. I only know how to speak the truth--and that, in a plain, straightforward manner. Your husband, I am told, left here, yesterday morning, with a companion, for Mexico. He has not acted, since he has been here, in a way just to please the people, and finding that it would not be safe to stay much longer--he has quietly taken himself off. Now, my advice to you is, to get home to your friends as quickly as possible, for it will be folly to hope for his return. He is not only heavily indebted to me for his own and your boarding, but owes a great many others, and will not be allowed to come back to this place. And now, while I am on this subject, I might as well say what you ought to know, and that is, that he only induced you to come out here, in the hope that large sums of money would be sent to you by your father."
"It is false, sir!" exclaimed Bell, rising to her feet with sudden energy, her eyes dilating and flashing, as she looked the landlord steadily and angrily in the face.
"I wish from my heart, for your sake, that all I have said were false," replied the landlord, in a softened tone. "But it is, believe me, madam, too true, as I know to my cost, and you will know to your sorrow."
"O, can it be true?" said poor Bell, after a pause, clasping her hands tightly across her forehead. Then, as the conviction came stealing over her mind, that it was indeed the truth which the straight-forward landlord had uttered, she looked up in his face and said in a broken voice:
"Then, sir, what can I, what shall I do?"
"Go home to your friends as quickly as possible."
"But I have no means of getting home."
"Then write to them at once to send you the means. You are welcome to remain here until you get a remittance from them, as much as I have been deceived and wronged by your husband."
As Mrs. Ware uttered her almost inarticulate thanks, the landlord bowed and left her alone in her chamber--a prey to most harrowing reflections. As soon, however, as she could compose her thoughts, she sat down and wrote to her mother, imploring her to send her instantly, the means of returning home.
Month after month passed away, but there came no word from her husband, nor any letter from home. Again and again she wrote, but all her letters remained unanswered. Grateful for the kindness and consideration of the landlord and the different members of his family, Mrs. Ware, after the time had passed by in which she had hoped to hear from her father, began to feel that it was her duty to try and render them, if possible, some service. This thought was the form of acknowledgment to herself, of the heart-sickening fear that her father and mother had cast her off. Any more distinct acknowledgment of this fear, would have been more than she could have borne. Accordingly, she proposed to instruct the landlord's two daughters in music, as some compensation for the burden of her support.
This proposition was accepted, and in the occupation of mind which it afforded, proved to her a great relief from afflicting thoughts. There being no music teacher then in the town, and many young ladies being extremely desirous to learn--Mrs. Ware received several applications to give lessons, so soon as it was known that she was engaged in so doing at the hotel. For a time, she declined acceding to these propositions, all her feelings shrinking away from such an exposure of herself. But as month after month continued to pass, and no tidings came from home, her intense longings to get back to her children, made her determine to make the teaching of music a means of procuring sufficient money to pay her passage to Philadelphia. As soon as this was determined upon, she let it be known, and was at once engaged to give lessons in several families.
This brought her, for the first time in nearly twelve months, once more within the precincts of the private domestic circle--once more among mothers and their children. How vividly did it bring back the memories of home and the dear little ones she had left behind her--moving her often to tears that no effort on her part could restrain. In more than one family where she gave lessons, a strong interest was felt in her; but delicacy prevented the kind inquiries that were often ready to be made. All felt drawn toward her, for all saw and felt that she had indeed seen better days--but none ventured to inquire the particulars of her history.
Six months more had passed wearily away, and Mrs. Ware's gradually accumulating fund had nearly reached the sum required to pay her way to Philadelphia, when nature, too long and too painfully tried, suddenly, and from an unlooked for shock, gave way--and she sunk down under the influence of a raging fever. For weeks she hung lingering on the brink of the grave, but finally her system began to rally and she slowly recovered, but did not regain her former strength. Her nervous system was much shattered, and her spirits almost entirely gone. Few were aware of the cause of her severe illness. It was this. A Houston paper had fallen in her way; and there she read the summary execution of two men, under lynch-law, by hanging. Full particulars were given. They had been detected in cheating at cards, when a quarrel ensued, and a young man who had been engaged with them, was killed. The incensed populace at once wrecked their vengeance on the gamblers. Their names were given as Johnson, alias Ware, and Haines, alias Handy.
A long history of their previous lives was appended, relating minutely the particulars of the forgery in Philadelphia, the scene on the Mississippi, with many other things new and startling to the already too deeply afflicted wife. In closing the narrative, it was added that he had induced his wife to leave her home and join him a few months before in Galveston, where he had heartlessly forsaken her in a strange place, among strangers, and penniless; "though," finally added the account, "we cannot sanction the summary proceedings in this case, yet we do sincerely rejoice that we have been freed, even in this way, of two of the most unprincipled scoundrels that ever disgraced this part of the country!"
When Mrs. Ware arose from the severe illness occasioned by this dreadful news, her spirits were gone, as has been stated, and her nervous system sadly shattered. The kindness of the hotel keeper and his family had enabled her to retain unbroken her little treasure, amounting to between sixty and seventy dollars, and with this, as soon as she was able to start, she took passage for New Orleans. She arrived safely there, after a quick voyage, and on the day following went on board of a boat that was going to Louisville. Two tedious weeks were consumed in reaching the falls of the Ohio. Hence she proceeded, without waiting a single day, to Wheeling. But alas! when she arrived at Wheeling, she, found herself with but four dollars, and the fare to Baltimore alone was fourteen, exclusive of the expense of meals.
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