The Old Man's Bride CHAPTER 25.
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Mr. Bullfinch was not the man to pass through so terrible an ordeal, and bear the pain with but few external marks of suffering. The degree of agitation exhibited, when no eye but that of his wife saw the anguish of his spirit, was, at times, fearful to look upon. And yet, almost to the last, he hid from her the cause, notwithstanding she appealed to him, again and again, in the tenderest manner, to make her the sharer of his trouble. At last, the truth could no longer be concealed. Up to the final moment, he struggled to sustain himself with a tenacity of mercantile life rarely shown. All was activity, and profound agitation, until hope spread out her pinions and flew away! Then a deep calm fell upon his spirit.
"It is all over," said he in a composed voice, to his confidential clerk. "I have done all in human power to accomplish. The crash is coming at last. Whether I shall come out alive from beneath the ruins, or be crushed to death by the fall, is more than our weak foresight can determine. I think I am prepared for the worst; but we are only mortal at best."
The state of mind in which her husband had, for weeks, returned from his business, caused Mrs. Bullfinch to look, daily, for his coming, with something of dread. On this particular occasion, the dinner hour had long passed, yet he was still away. This, as it was not an unusual thing, caused her no greater concern than she had been daily suffering. At last, she heard him enter, and listened with more interest, perhaps, than common to his deliberate step, as he moved along the passage, and ascended the stairs. It was the old, familiar tread, to which her ear had become accustomed; and yet, there was something in it that marked a change in her husband's state of mind — whether favorable, or otherwise, her instincts were not informed — and she waited, with partially suspended respiration, his entrance. One glance sufficed. She saw that — whatever had been the causes from which he had suffered so profoundly of late — the struggle was over. His brow, where deep lines had fixed themselves for months past, was smooth, as if anxious care had never laid thereon a finger; but, as smooth as it was, it reflected not a single ray of light. His eye had lost its quick motion, and now looked heavy and fireless. His lips, long so tightly drawn together, or arched with earnest thought, were gently parted, and almost expressionless. His body, usually erect, was slightly bent forward. He was an impersonation of hopeless, yet patient endurance.
"Mr. Bullfinch!" exclaimed Helen, starting forward, and laying her hand, with an earnest pressure, on his arm, "what has happened?"
"Sit down," said he, in a voice so strangely unfamiliar to the ears of his wife, that the tones chilled her, "and I will tell you all. Concealment are no longer a virtue."
Helen allowed him to lead her to a chair. Taking one beside her, and still holding her hand, he continued —
"Helen — when I asked you to become my wife, I was rich. I offered you all the comforts and elegancies which wealth could buy. Even with these to lay at your feet, I have failed to make you happy. Heaven knows the pleasure it has ever given me to see a smile light up your countenance — alas! how few and feeble they have ever been."
He uttered the last words quickly, and with a slight unsteadiness in his voice. A moment he averted his face, and then resumed —
"Helen, as I have just said, when I asked you to become my wife, I was rich. But, this day, I am a beggar!"
He paused, and looked anxiously into the face of his wife. The change he had expected was not visible. She did not startle, nor grow pale, nor weep.
"Did you understand me, Helen? I said that I was a beggar. When I married you, I promised all the good things that wealth could procure. This day, I am reduced to poverty."
"Wealth alone!" replied Helen, in a composed voice, "never made a heart happy. True satisfaction of mind has its source in a higher spring."
The old man was greatly moved by so unexpected a reception of his communication. He had long since let go the delusion, that, for any other attraction than his wealth — his wife had consented to wed. She had plainly enough declared this in the beginning, but, in his blind self-delusion, he would not believe the assertion. Alas! in what rigid and unmistakable forms had the truth been since presented to his mind. Now that wealth was gone, he felt that the only uniting bond was severed, and in the hopeless spirit of a martyr, he made this declaration of his changed fortunes.
No wonder such an unexpected reception of his announcement moved him deeply.
"Did you understand me, Helen?" he asked.
"I believe so," she answered.
"I am rich no longer. This day, I have failed to meet my payments — and tomorrow, all I have in the world must be surrendered to my creditors. Do you comprehend the meaning of all this?"
"Clearly," said Helen.
"But can you bear the change that comes inevitably?"
"I have borne it once," she replied. "I can bear it again."
"Once!"
For an instant, Mr. Bullfinch did not comprehend his wife. But memory quickly made all clear. Her father had, from wealth, been reduced to extreme poverty. How well he remembered all the events connected with Mr. Lee's failure, and the not over-generous part that he had acted as a creditor for a small amount.
"Ah! now I remember," he said, his voice falling.
"I have borne reverse of fortune, once," repeated Helen, "and I can bear it again; with some fortitude, I trust, for I am stronger now."'
Mr. Bullfinch gazed upon his wife in silent wonder. There were no marks of pain or fear on her countenance, which wore an elevated, truly dignified aspect. With what a shrinking reluctance had he looked to this stern necessity — how he had dreaded the effect upon his wife of the announcement she had received so calmly! For a little while, he was sustained by her fortitude. This, however, was but temporary. The consequences to himself were too direct and all-embracing; and he had too long rested for happiness in theexternal things that wealth and social position gave, to meet such utter ruin with any heart resignation whatever.
It was soon apparent to Mrs. Bullfinch, that her husband had fallen, never to rise again. That, in the destruction of his earthly fortune, self-control, under the pressure of appetite and habit, and self-respect also — were both to a great extent involved. If the announcement of his loss of property had in no way appalled her, the too certain signs of this personal abandonment, as they became more and more visible, day after day, began to startle, and alarm her with glimpses of a profounder depth of suffering, if that were possible, than any she had yet been called on to endure.
A week or two elapsed before Mrs. Bullfinch began to comprehend the exact position of her husband's business. Finding that, under the pressure of a great calamity, he was fast losing all manly control of himself — in fact, drowning thought, daily, in excessive quantities of wine or brandy — she took direct means for ascertaining the state of his affairs. That is, she called upon a merchant who had frequently visited at their house, and in whose good feeling and truthfulness she had entire confidence. From him she learned, that the declaration of Mr. Bullfinch, to the effect that he was a beggar, was no figure of speech. It was then that she began to feel dizzy, as her eyes wandered down the dark chasmwhich had suddenly opened at her feet, and she could see no bottom. Had her husband retained his balance of intellect, personal activity, and entire control of his appetites — she would have met the change with few emotions strong enough to leave an external sign.
But, unhappily, this was not so. Each recurring day made but the more apparent, the rapidity with which he was sinking all the manly qualities of his nature — drowning everything of good that remained — in the cup of utter confusion. Morning found him sober and serious enough. A few hours were then devoted to the business of conferring and acting with the assignees of his property. Dinner-time brought him home usually the worse for repeated glasses of brandy; while the afternoon, and often the evening, were spent in sleeping off the effects of deeper drafts.
One day he came home greatly agitated.
"All gone!" he exclaimed, on meeting his wife. "Everything swallowed up. Ruin! utter ruin!"
"I know the worst," said Helen.
"They will leave us nothing! House — household effects — everything is to be swept away! I never saw such rapacity — such lack of humanity."
It is scarcely to be wondered that the face of Mrs. Bullfinch grew paler now; nor, that her lips were tremulous as she said —
"They will at least spare us these." And her eyes glanced around the room in which they were sitting.
"Nothing. All must go! It is dreadful! Let a man once become unfortunate, and his fellow men hunt him to the death as if he were a criminal."
Mrs. Bullfinch replied not. But her thoughts were busy with new images, that took more fearful and repulsive forms.
As it had been for weeks before, it happened on this afternoon, Mr. Bullfinch sought temporary oblivion in wine.
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