An American Story of Real Life CHAPTER 5.
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One day, about three months subsequent to the time in which occurred the incidents just related, Henry Ware called upon Mr. Martin at his counting-room. After passing a few common-place remarks, the young man said, with a serious air--
"I would like to have a little private conversation with you, Mr. Martin."
"Certainly, Henry," replied Mr. Martin, though not in a very encouraging tone. "We shall be uninterrupted here, as all my clerks are engaged at present in the store, and will be so for some time."
"You know, sir," began the young man after a few moments' hesitation, "that I have visited your daughter Bell, pretty often of late."
"I have observed as much," was the cold response.
"In doing so," resumed Ware, "I have been influenced, by an admiration and a regard for her that have fast ripened into affection. In a word, sir, my errand here today is to ask of you her hand in marriage."
"You ask of me, Henry, that which I cannot lightly give," readied Mr. Martin, with a still graver look and tone. "A father who loves his children as I love mine, must be fully satisfied that they will be happy, before he can consent to their marriage."
"I would have much mistaken the character of Mr. Martin, if he were to act otherwise," the young man said, with a perfectly unembarrassed manner. "No father ought to give his consent to the marriage of his child, without being fully satisfied as to the character of the man who proposes for her hand. I do not, therefore, expect you to accept of my proposal at once. But your manner leads me to infer, that in your mind, there are objections to me. Am I right?"
Ware was perfectly cool and self-possessed.
"You are right in your inference," was Mr. Martin's answer. "You know, Henry, that, like your father, I am a man of business views and habits. One who has been, mainly, the architect of his own fortune; and one who values in others the same qualities and habits that have made him successful in life. These, he has not perceived in you--or, at least only, in very feeble activity. The man who, with my consent, marries either Fanny or Bell, must be a man of energy, industry, and sound views and principles. These will bear him up under all circumstances. These will preserve him amid temptations. These will be a guaranty for my daughters' happiness."
"I fully appreciate what you say, Mr. Martin," returned Ware. "Your own success in life, and that of my father, are strong illustrations of the truth of those practical principleswhich you have adopted. Principles which, of late, have been presented to my mind as altogether worthy of adoption. I know that I have been a thoughtless young man, fond of company and pleasure. I know that there was a time when I laughed at sober industry, and those manly exertions which elevate individuals into positions of honor and usefulness--as something for the vulgar. But I have seen the folly and weakness of such views, and have entered, seriously, upon the business of life, with a steady, and I hope, vigorous determination to succeed. You are aware, sir, I presume, that I opened an office for the practice of law some months ago. Since that time, I have devoted myself with diligence to the profession I have chosen."
"It gives me great pleasure, Henry, to hear you express views that are so sound, and far more pleasure to hear you declare that you have adopted them as rules of life," replied Mr. Martin in a more encouraging tone. "Still, the change in your course of life is of such recent occurrence, that you cannot blame me for fearing that difficulties, unforseen by yourself in the new path you have so properly chosen, may prevent you persevering in it."
"Is there any other objection to me?" Henry Ware asked, in a serious tone.
"None other, Henry," was Mr. Martin's prompt reply. "You are the son of one of my oldest and most esteemed friends. Your father and myself grew up together as boys, and entered upon business at the same time. Thus far, we have been fast friends, and, I trust, will remain so through life. No objection can, therefore, possibly exist in reference to this matter, but what pertains to yourself, personally. If I can be satisfied that you will make Bell happy--that you will cherish her and care for her as I have cherished and cared for her, I will say, take her with my whole heart."
"How am I to satisfy you of this, Mr. Martin?"
"I can only be satisfied by such an assurance of the permanency of your present course of life, as will leave my mind free from all doubt upon the subject. In the mean time, I will not restrict you in your visits to Bell. A few weeks' observation and deliberation I shall take, before I make up my mind. When that is done, my decision will be final. And I can only say, that it will be to me a source of real pleasure, if I can make it in your favor."
"I will cheerfully await your decision, Mr, Martin," young Ware said. "And I thank you for the frankness with which you have dealt with me. If you do not find me worthy to claim the hand of your daughter, reject my suit. But do not judge of me by the past. Let me be estimated by what I am, not by what I was."
"My mind will no doubt incline in your favor," replied Mr. Martin. "And I more than suspect that, at home, I shall find many reasons for encouraging your suit. Be that as it may, however, I shall endeavor to decide the matter soon, and in doing so, be governed by a regard for the happiness of my child."
The young man, after a few further words, arose, and went away. For nearly an hour after, old Mr. Martin remained seated, in deep thought.
In a few minutes from the time Ware left the store of Mr. Martin, he entered his own office, and ascended to the upper room, before mentioned. There he found, as he had expected, his very particular friend, Thomas Handy, who was lounging in an easy chair, and filling the room with tobacco smoke.
"Halloo! Back already!" was that individual's salutation as Ware entered, rising up with a quick movement, and a look of interest as he spoke.
"Yes, I'm a prompt man, you know."
"Did you get around the old fellow?"
"O, yes."
"Indeed! Has he consented?"
"No--of course not. I didn't expect that. But I've got him safely enough, or I'm very much mistaken."
"How did he take your proposition?"
"Coldly enough at first. But I saw his weak side, and so dropped in a little ingenious flattery. Then I made him believe that I was going to be one of the most industrious, exemplary young men in the whole city--a very pattern of plodding, dollar and cent dullness. That green briefcase, with the documents peeping out of it occasionally, has touched the old codger's heart, I can see plainly enough."
"Did you ask for Bell, outright?"
"O, yes. I thought it best to come to the point at once."
"What did he say?"
"He put me off for a month or so, to give him time to consider."
"A month or so?"
"Yes, confound it! I shall have to walk a straight line until my knees grow stiff. If in that time anything should go wrong, or I should, unfortunately, be betrayed into any little indiscretion while under the influence of a bottle of wine, the whole jig will be up."
"You will have to be prudent, Harry," replied his friend, gravely.
"Indeed, I will. I've taken almost as much trouble now as the jade is worth, and could hardly be tempted to act such a farce over again, were the present enterprise to prove a failure. To be compelled to stick up my name as a miserable lawyer, and go, regularly, day after day, to my office; and what is worse, lug a green briefcase about the street, with a mock business air, is going it a little too strong for a gentleman."
"It is rather hard, I confess, but two months will soon slip by."
"Yes. And during the time, I must endeavor to enjoy myself as much as possible, and thus rob it of a portion of irksomeness."
"We haven't been to Pandora's together for some time," remarked Handy, after a pause in the conversation.
"No. It's too expensive sometimes--especially as the money doesn't come quite as easy as formerly," was the reply of Ware.
"It seems to me, Harry, that you and I ought to have wit and skill enough to prevent that."
"I've often thought as much myself. But they're keen hands at turning a card there."
"So are all these professional men. The only thing is for us to be just as keen as they are, and I believe we can be. The fact is, I find that I am gaining skill and nerve every day. Last night I came away from Twitter's worth a hundred dollars more than I was when I went to the rooms."
"You did?.
"Yes, I did. But I had to work for it, and no mistake."
"Your hand is improving."
"Very much. And so is yours."
"Yes, I believe it is." Then, after a pause--
"You propose going to Pandora's tonight?"
"Yes."
"How much can you raise, Tom?"
"About two hundred dollars."
"That's more than I can, by one hundred and ninety."
"So low as that?" in a tone of surprise.
"It's a fact. My old man, you know, isn't too liberal in his supplies."
"Nor mine either. But I thought this office, the green briefcase, and all that, had mollified him considerably."
"So it has. Still, he makes me ask him, every time I want a dollar--and that is not so very pleasant, you know."
"Of course not, but no matter--my purse is yours. We can take a hundred dollars apiece, and go to Pandora's to night."
"And come away without a hundred pennies in our pockets, I suppose."
"That doesn't follow, by any means, Harry. Rather say we will come away with a cool thousand a-piece."
"Very pleasant to contemplate, but difficult to realize," was Ware's reply.
"Though difficult, it is yet possible to realize all that, and more. For my part, my mind is fully made up to do something for my self in this way. If I don't, I shall, like you, be driven to marry some silly girl, or else be forced into some kind of business, than stoop to which, I would almost as well drown myself."
"And you seriously think that something may be done in this line?"
"Certainly I do. Didn't I win a hundred dollars last night?"
"So you have said. But might not that have been the result of accident?"
"It might have been--but it was not. I had as keen a fellow to deal with, as is to be found in a hundred. He did his best, but I was wide awake all the time. Practice makes perfect, you know, and I have been practicing for the last three or four months, pretty steadily."
"I don't know, but that it would be well for me to improve myself in this way, too. There's no telling what may turn up, after I secure Bell."
"That is true enough, Harry."
"Of course, I don't intend keeping this shop open a day. For three or four months I shall manage to have forty good excuses for not attending to business. At first, you know, we will have to travel for a few weeks; then I shall want to spend some time in New York, and so on to the end of the chapter. But the mark will have to be toed at last. I shall have to take a deliberate stand, and make a plain avowal of my determination not to have a stone laid upon my back, and be crushed down and kept down, to the level of a mere worker. When that comes--and come it must, Tom--there is no telling what two hardheaded old fellows, like Bell's father and mine, may attempt. But they'll find their match, or I'm mistaken. They'll discover that I'm a boy that is hard to beat. The first movement will, no doubt, be to cut off supplies. Of course, I must prepare for such an event. I must, if possible hit upon some expedient for keeping up supplies."
"Of course you must. And that which propose, is the only honorable expedient. And, besides, you can manage it with the utmost secrecy. You can go night after night to Twitter's, or Pandora's--and old Martin will be none the wiser. No secrets leak out of those places."
"We will go tonight, as you propose Tom," was Ware's prompt reply.
That night, at about nine o' clock, the young men met according to arrangement, and proceeded together to a house in the upper part of Chestnut Street, which, in external appearance, bore all the indications of a private dwelling. They rang the bell, and were regularly admitted by a servant. First, they entered, with an air of freedom and self-possession, the parlors below, which were brilliantly lighted, exhibiting a rich display of furniture, costly mirrors and pictures, with frames of the richest manufacture. Here were to be found all the newspapers, and the choicest periodicals of the day. A few individuals were to be seen, reading, or lounging upon the sofas.
The two young men lingered here but a few moments, and then ascended to a room ranging along the back buildings of the house, which was fitted up as a bar, with great elegance. Here was exhibited in tempting array everything that could please the taste of the epicure, or delight the thirsty seekers for wines or mixed liquors; while smiling attendants stood ready to answer with promptness, any demand. All this was free--provided by the generous munificence of the rich proprietors of the establishment.
"We must take a strong drink to make our nerves steady," remarked Handy to Ware, as the two entered the bar-room door.
"Of course." was the brief answer.
A stiff glass of the liquor named by Handy was taken in silence by the young men, and then they turned away, and ascending two or three steps, entered the large room that fronted the street, which was brilliantly illuminated. From without, the windows, although presenting the appearance of being lightly draperied, gave no sign of the busy life within. The passer-by, if he lifted his gaze to the building, concluded, if he thought of the matter at all, that few, if any, were its inhabitants--for all was as dark and silent as desolation.
In this room were arranged many small tables, at several of which people were engaged at play. Two or three were walking backward and forward, evidently absorbed in thought; and one was seated alone, his head drooping upon his breast, and but a portion of his features visible. For a moment or two, Ware let his eye rest upon the last mentioned individual, and observed that his lips were separated, and that his teeth were closely shut, and in a slight oblique position, as if he were just about grinding them together. His hand, too, was clenched, and had a perceptible nervous twitching.
"That poor devil has been fleeced, I suppose," whispered Handy, with a contemptuous smile, and toss of the head.
"Yes, I suppose so--and now sits here making a fool of himself," was Ware's heartless reply. "But come," he added, "let's go to the upper room in the rear building. This is too near the street. I can't bear the noise of the carriages--nor to hear the sound of voices on the pavement It doesn't seem private enough."
"My own feelings," rejoined Handy.
The two young men accordingly withdrew, and ascended to the room which Ware had indicated. It was much longer than the one they had just left, running the whole length of an extensive back building. The floor was covered with rich Brussels carpeting, the windows were hung with costly curtains, and the walls glittered with mirrors which reflected light from three splendid chandeliers. Here, as below, were ranges of tables, some occupied by individuals with cards, and others vacant. As Ware and Handy came in, they were approached by a man of the blandest manners, and the most polished address. He supposed the young gentlemen desired to amuse themselves--there were tables with cards, and other means of passing an agreeable hour. The young gentlemen thanked him with a manner as polite and courteous as his own; and acting upon his hint, took possession of a table.
"Rather dull work for two," this very considerate and gentlemanly personage remarked, with his pleasant smile, passing near them a few minutes afterwards.
"Rather," was Handy's response. "Won't you sit down with us?"
"No objection, if agreeable," was the prompt reply, as he drew up a chair.
"Still rather dull work," he said, after a short time, leaning back and throwing an eye around the room. "I wonder if we can't find somebody else that would like to take a hand? We are not now evenly balanced. There comes a man who looks as if he wanted to be either winning or losing something. Look here, friend!" addressing the individual to whom he had alluded, "don't you want to take a hand?"
"No objection," was the reply,
"Come along, then. I need a partner; and one with a clear, cool head, too; for one of my young friends here, at least, I know to be a sharp hand, and I more than guess that the other is not much behind him."
The stranger sat down with the rest, and the four were soon deeply burled in the game at once commenced. Ten dollars a round was the stake, and for a time the games all ran in favor of Handy and Ware. A proposition to double the stakes had just been made by Handy, when the individual whom they had noticed below, as sitting apart, absorbed in some intensely painful struggle of mind, entered the room, and came and stood beside the table at which they were seated. As he did so, Ware looked up, and observed that his face wore a fierce, malignant, determined expression. He had hardly time to notice this, when the intruder said--addressing the individual who had spoken to them so blandly, on their entering the room--in low, emphatic tones while his eye flashed, and his face grew dark with suppressed anger--
"You are a cheating scoundrel! Here, to your teeth, in the presence of these young gentlemen, I brand you as a miserable, cheating scoundrel!"
The change that instantly passed upon the face of the individual. addressed, was fearful to look upon. The bland, open countenance became in a moment rigid, and almost fierce--while his eyes, before so mild in expression, were now dilated, and seemed to throw out corruscations of fiendish hate. For an instant only he paused, and then springing to his feet, he dashed both fists into the face of the person who had insulted him, before the latter had time to defend himself. Quick as thought, however, the other regained his feet, a large knife already gleaming in his hand, and made a headlong plunge toward the assailant.
That individual dexterously avoided the blow aimed at his heart, which was made with such a desperate energy, that its failure caused the stranger to fall forward upon one of the tables. Before he could recover himself, the other was upon him, bearing him down, while his hand made two or three quick plunges, striking his sides as he did so with some sharp instrument, that glistened each time it was raised in the light.
Desperate were the struggles now made by the stranger to throw off his antagonist, but the gambler held him down by bearing his whole weight upon him, every now and then stabbing him in the side! With a fierce energy, accompanying each blow with some hellish imprecation. All this passed before anyone had time to interfere. But a crowd gathered round, one catching the hand that held the deadly weapon, and another dragging him off of the wounded man, from whose side the blood already gushed in copious streams. Instantly upon being thus released, the latter turned and dashed his knife into the abdomen of the gambler. As he did so, his arm fell nerveless by his side and he sank upon the floor, a ghastly corpse!
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