Sweethearts and Wives CHAPTER 7.
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"Dear me!" ejaculated Mr. Milnor, one morning, about two weeks after his marriage, lifting his eyes from a newspaper which he held in his hand, and looking into the face of his wife with an expression of alarm on his countenance.
"What is it? What is the matter?" asked Grace, eagerly, her face reflecting the alarm visible upon that of her husband's.
"The Bank in Boston has failed!"
"Failed!" exclaimed Grace, starting to her feet, and becoming deadly pale.
"It is too true; and it is stated, besides, that not even the bills will be paid, leaving the stock a total loss. How much had you in that stock?"
"A large amount. Some thirty or forty thousand dollars, I believe."
"And the balance of your fortune is in bank-stock likewise?"
"Yes; the entire balance, whatever it is, is in the stock of the Bank."
"The Bank! Let me see!" and Milnor again referred to the newspaper. In a few moments he read aloud,
"Great excitement has existed throughout the city, and several of our institutions have been run upon; among them the Bank, from which nearly one hundred thousand dollars have been drawn. Few expect its doors to be opened tomorrow morning; but we shall see."
"Too bad! too bad!" were the bitterly-uttered words of Lewis Milnor, as he dropped the paper, and commenced pacing the room backward and forward, his lips tightly compressed, and a dark frown upon his brow. He seemed for the moment to forget his young bride — to forget everything but the fact that a handsome fortune, made his own in a moment — had, in as brief a space, passed beyond his grasp forever! He had flattered himself that the wealth which would go with the hand of the lovely girl made no part of the inducement which had led him to win her young heart. It had only been for herself, that he had loved her. Now the nature of his love was suddenly and severely tried — and the dross exposed not only to himself, but, saddest of all, to Grace, who saw, too plainly, that she had not been loved for herself alone. For one like her to make such a discovery, and at such a time, was a terrible trial — a trial that seemed too great for endurance. For a moment she seemed driven almost to the verge of madness; but she rallied with a vigorous effort, and was just passing from the room, when her husband, fully restored to consciousness, and painfully aware that he had betrayed his real feelings far too openly, caught her arm, and said,
"Grace! only for your sake, does this heavy reverse pain me."
But she had seen his true state written upon his countenance too plainly. No words could falsify it. She stood still, and, looking him steadily in the face, said calmly, but with marked emphasis,
"I only wish that it had occurred one month earlier."
"Why do you say that, Grace?"
"Then you would have been — "
"In the name of Heaven, what has happened?" exclaimed Mrs. Ellis, who came into the room at the moment, and was instantly struck with alarm at the changed aspect and manner of the young couple. Her interrogation prevented Grace from finishing her sentence, who, disengaging herself from the hand of her husband, glided away, leaving him to make to her aunt, the sad communication of her changed lot.
"Tell me, Lewis, what has happened!" Mrs. Ellis said, as soon as Grace had left the room.
"The Bank has failed, and the Bank has been run upon; and it was not supposed last night, that its doors would be opened this morning," Milnor replied, in a calm voice.
"Merciful Heaven! then are we indeed all beggars!" was Mrs. Ellis' instant exclamation, pressing her hands to her forehead, and sinking back upon a chair.
"Your money is not also in those institutions?" Milnor said, in a sympathizing voice.
"Yes, it is all there — and all doubtless gone!"
"Perhaps not. I will go instantly to Boston, and learn the whole truth. But be of good courage; let what will, come, I have something to fall back upon — not much, it is true. But, to make up for all deficiencies, I have a willing heart and ready hands. The cloud has gathered quickly, indeed, over our sky; let us not yield to the tempest, but rather meet the storm with calm brows and trusting hearts."
"My heart blesses you for such words, Lewis! They call my thoughts back to submission," Mrs. Ellis said, in a voice that had regained its firmness. "Go at once, as you propose, to Boston. Make all requisite investigations, and advise with my agent, and the guardian of Grace — as to the wisest course to be pursued. In the mean time, we will wait here as patiently as possible, and endeavor to be prepared for the worst."
Without pausing for farther conference, Milnor turned from Mrs. Ellis, and sought Grace in her chamber. There he found her, seated by a table, with her face buried in her hands, and her whole appearance indicative of a strong mental conflict. "Grace," he said tenderly, laying his hand upon her, "Aunt Mary thinks I had better go immediately to Boston."
No reply was made to this, nor the slightest indication given that Grace was aware of her husband's presence.
"Do you not think that I had better go?" he asked, after pausing for a few minutes.
"You can do just as you please," Grace replied to this, in a cold, indifferent tone, and without lifting her head.
Stung more by her manner and tone, than by her words, Milnor turned instantly away and left the room, though his heart reproved him as he did so; but his pride was deeply wounded. A weakness — nay, a mercenary spirit had betrayed itself, and had even been discovered by her from whom, above all the world, he would most have desired toconceal it; and she had felt its existence in him, and it had filled her heart — so he supposed — with an emotion of contempt, and had caused her, under this feeling, to repulse him.
It was some time before, under the conflicting thoughts and feelings which ruled alternately, he could again bring up his mind to the determination to repair to Boston, and make an effort to secure at least a portion of his wife's suddenly-wrecked fortune. Had it not been that Mrs. Ellis' interests were deeply at stake, as well as his own — it is more than probable that he would not have left Westbrook that day, and perhaps not at all, for the purpose of taking steps to secure a dollar of his wife's property. Conscious that his heart, all unknown to himself, had rested, with no small share of affection, upon the handsome fortune that was to go with the hand of Grace Harvey — and angry with himself for having been governed in any degree by so base a motive, it was trying him too severely to have added thereto the heart-sickening knowledge, that this had been discovered and resented by his wife before the first month of their married life had passed away. The richest dowry in the world seemed now like unattractive earth — compared to the confidence and love of his bride. To win back these, he would have thrown a dozen fortunes like that she had lost, to the wind, nor given a sigh for the vanishing treasures.
But, as whatever was to be done had to be done quickly, Milnor held another brief interview with Mrs. Ellis in regard to her own affairs, and then, without again seeing Grace, started for Boston. A ride of four hours gave him time for much reflection and close self-examination — not unmingled with troubled thoughts for the future. That he had calculated much, though before all unacknowledged to himself, upon the standing, and power to follow out some fondly-cherished schemes which the wealth of Grace would give him — was now too apparent to his mind; and, try all he could, he found it impossible not to feel disappointed, on his own account, at the threatened loss of every dollar of this wealth. His conscious selfishness chafed him exceedingly, and was ten times more galling from the fact that he had, in a moment of weakness, betrayed it to his wife. So strongly was he affected by this, that, before his arrival in Boston, he had pretty well made up his mind, not to see the guardian of Grace at all. The motive for this was twofold: primarily, to let his wife feel that he was indifferent whether he received any property by her or not, and, therefore, that in her judgment of him as mercenary — she had done him a wrong; and, secondarily, as a kind of punishment for this very mercenary feeling, which he was so anxious to make Grace believe, he had never experienced.
Mrs. Ellis did not see Grace from the time when she had learned from Milnor the fact of the failure in Boston, until after he had departed for the city. She then sought her in her chamber, and found her seated by a table, her face hidden in her hands, very much in the same position that her husband had left her in so suddenly, a short time before.
"My dear Grace!" she said, tenderly, as she seated herself by the side of her niece, and drew an arm around her, "do not weakly give way under this sudden loss of mere external things. I, too, will doubtless lose all, and be left, in the decline of life, without the support which you can lean upon — a husband's devoted affection."
A free gush of tears was the only indication that Grace heard the words of her aunt, who, after a pause, went on:
"It may not, however, be as bad as would at first appear. Perhaps we shall save a portion of our property — enough to keep us above poverty."
"Heaven grant that it may be so!" sobbed out Grace. "I would rather die, than be dependant upon my husband for a support."
"That, my child, is a wrong feeling. Upon whom, if not on him, can you have any claim?"
"I would rather die than be dependant upon him!" was the young wife's only reply, made with something of indignation in her voice.
"Grace! this must not be. Such a feeling is unworthy of your own heart, and unjust to a husband whose love a change like this, can only increase, not diminish. It is, doubtless, a source of pain, and even mortification, to find that, instead of rewarding him with a rich dowry of external blessings, as well as the blessing of a true heart, you will, in all probability, be able only to give him the latter. Still, do not wound him, do not insult him by an intimation that you suspect him to have been influenced by a regard for yourfortune, more than by a love for yourself."
"I only wish it had happened a month ago — then he would have been free!" Grace returned, with warmth.
"If it had, it would not have retarded your marriage a day."
"It would have put it off forever!" bitterly responded the young wife, her tears flowing freely.
"Are you mad, Grace!" exclaimed Mrs. Ellis at this, in a voice of mingled astonishment and rebuke. "Have you really had so little true confidence in the man you were willing to marry, as all this indicates? Shame on you for the base suspicion against a true heart, which you have suffered yourself to entertain! I know Lewis Milnor better!"
But to all this, Grace remained silent. Gladly would she have believed that her aunt's rebuke was just — that her husband had loved her for herself alone. But she could not. She had seen a different sentiment in his face. Too vividly had the keen disappointment he felt at the sudden loss of her property, been pictured there — and too correctly had she read the blasting record. At first, this had made her feel indignant; but too truly and too deeply had she loved him, to suffer such an emotion to remain long predominant. It gradually gave place to a most heart-sickening state of mind — one in which a consciousness of having poured out her heart's best treasures upon one who had loved her mainly fromselfish ends — crushed down her feelings, and made her almost wish to die.
It was all in vain that her aunt talked to her, and represented the wicked injustice of the suspicion which it was evident to her had been awakened in the mind of Grace. Had Mrs. Ellis known the cause of Grace's convictions — her better knowledge of human nature, with its infirmities, and its struggles against conscious evils — it might have been in her power to have given Grace some thoughts which would have elevated her into a truer appreciation of Milnor's character and state of mind. But, altogether ignorant in this respect, she could not truly meet the mentally-diseased state of her niece, whom she was at last compelled to leave to her own bitter thoughts.
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