Volume II. The Wife CHAPTER 14.
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Mr. Riston tried his best to entertain, as far as his personal attentions were concerned, the mass of people he had, jointly with his wife, invited to be witnesses of his folly. But he felt like a criminal all the evening. There were more than a dozen people present to whom he was largely indebted, and upon whose confidence and forbearance towards him, depended everything. "How will all this effect them? was a question constantly in his mind. When, at a late hour in the morning, he shook hands with the last departing guest, and returned to his still brilliantly lighted, but deserted rooms — he threw himself upon a sofa with a heavily-drawn sigh.
"What ails you, man?" said his wife. "It won't kill you outright, I think. It is our first attempt at housekeeping, and we have opened handsomely."
"We have gone up like a rocket!" returned the husband, in a tone of bitterness.
Mrs. Riston looked at him with a slight curl of the lip.
"Soon to come down like the stick!" he added, still more bitterly.
"You talk very strangely. What am I to understand by such language?"
"Why, that, ten chances to one, this brilliant party of yours — not mine — will ruin me!"
"You are mad."
"I was insane, I confess, to let you make such a fool of yourself and me too. But I am sane enough now. I tried to tell you that I could not afford all this extravagant waste of money. But you shut your ears and would not hear me. You will both hear and feel before long. Your glory will be as short-lived as the early flower and the morning dew."
"You are raving mad, Mr. Riston!" said his wife, growing pale.
"I am not a man used to much extravagant speech. It would have been well for both of us, if you had made this discovery earlier; if you had believed me when I said I could not afford to spend money in certain ways proposed by you. I might as well have talked against the wind! But it is no use to upbraid you now. To throw your folly into your teeth.Necessity will do that soon enough; and Heaven grant that you may profit by the lesson you will receive."
"Mr. Riston, will you be kind enough to tell me what you mean? Speak out in plain and intelligible language?" This was said with an alarmed countenance, but in a steady voice; the wife looking fixedly at her husband. Her lips were firmly drawn together.
"The simplest language I can use is this," replied Mr. Riston; "and it is such as I have used over and over again without being heeded. I am not able to afford this style of living, nor to give an extravagant party such as you have given tonight. What is the natural consequence which follows, when a man expends more than he can afford to spend? Of course, he goes to the dogs, where I have now a very fair prospect of going, and that quite speedily. There were more than a dozen men here tonight, any of whom could make me a bankrupt in a week. It is only necessary to raise the cry that I am living beyond my means, which is a fact — and my credit is gone. Take that from me, and I am lost!"
"Credit! Have you nothing but credit?"
"Not much more, at present. I have lost ten thousand dollars by failures, in a year; and new my business is so clogged up that I am obliged to borrow large sums of money every day, in order to meet my payments. Destroy my credit — and you ruin me. That even you must see."
"But it is more than I can see, how this party or this house, is going to destroy your credit."
"A few weeks will probably open your eyes," Mr. Riston said, in an angry voice; and, rising, he left the room, and went up to his chamber.
"All very fine," he muttered, glancing around. "But these are frost-work luxuries. They will soon melt away."
The presence during the evening of so many of the very men on whose estimation of his standing in business depended his safety, had set Mr. Riston to thinking seriously about the ultimate effects of the extravagant expenditures apparent to every eye. It was this which had sobered him so much during the evening. The more closely he thought about it, the more he felt alarmed.
The next day was one of Mr. Riston's hard days. He had three heavy notes to pay, and two thousand dollars, borrowed money, to return. The thought of what was before him, kept him awake during the greater part of the night. He would not have been so uneasy, had he not felt that, after the extravagant display he had made, the effort to borrow money would be futile.
Everything wore a very different aspect at the breakfast table on the morning that followed to the splendid entertainment. Mr. Riston sat in thoughtful silence, and tried to eat, but every mouthful was taken with an effort. Mrs. Riston was the picture of distress. The solemn earnestness of her husband, more than his words, had alarmed her. If his affairs should be at the crisis he said they were — it would be, she felt, a terrible stroke. What! To give up her splendid mansion? To shrink back into a still deeper obscurity than that from which she had emerged? The thought alone almost drove her mad.
"You cannot be in earnest in what you told me last night, Mr. Riston," she said, unable to keep silence.
"If I was ever in earnest in my life, I am in earnest now," was replied. "I could have weathered through my difficulties, had I not insanely yielded to your miserable infatuation, and incurred all this expense, and what is worse, laid myself open to remarks and suspicions that will almost inevitably ruin me."
Mr. Riston spoke angrily. His wife made no answer; but burst into tears, and rising from the table left the room.
The unhappy man sat musing for some time, and then withdrew from the breakfast room and passed the parlors, where he looked around in order to satisfy himself by a new observation, in regard to the impression which must have been made upon the minds of certain individuals who were in his thoughts. A sigh escaped him as he turned away, and hurriedly left the house. It was nine o'clock when he reached the store. Two or three bills had arrived before him. One requested the return, on that day, of five hundred dollars, borrowed money, that he had not expected to be called on for in a week. The man who made this request had not been invited, with his wife, to the house-warming.
"But he has, no doubt, heard of it already," Mr. Riston said, mentally.
He opened another bill. It contained the confectioner's bill. The amount was — three hundred dollars! Crushing this bill in his hand, he thrust it into his pocket, with a muttered execration against his wife, and turned to his desk to examine into his affairs for the day. A few hurried calculations made all plain. To his mind, the aspect of things was appalling.
"If a breath of suspicion is whispered against me, I am gone!" he mentally said. "Nothing can save me. In a few weeks, if I can retain the confidence of everyone — I shall be safely past the crisis of my affairs, and on smooth water again. But can I retain it? Alas! I fear not. Confound this housekeeping folly, and this party! They will prove my ruin!"
But idle fears and vain regrets would accomplish nothing. There must be action, and prompt action. As early as half past ten, the merchant was on foot.
"Good morning, Riston!" said the first man on whom he called, extending his hand as the money-seeker entered his store. "Really! that was a magnificent affair of yours last night. I have never in my life been present at a more splendid entertainment. And what a lovely house you have got. What rent do you pay?"
"Seven hundred dollars."
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"Rather high, I must confess," Riston said. "But we have no children, and my wife must have something to see after. We can live in handsome style, and not be at a very heavy expense."
"True, that does make a difference. Children, especially half-grown daughters, are a great expense. Mine, I know, are terrible hard on money. But that party must have cost you a thousand dollars, Riston."
"Nonsense! It didn't cost one-fourth of it."
Riston was far from suspecting how near the bill would amount to the sum mentioned.
"If you get off with less than a thousand dollars, you may think yourself a fortunate man. Why, your confectioner's bill will be three hundred dollars, at least."
"How do you know?" asked Riston, with surprise.
"I heard it, somewhere, yesterday. I believe it came from your wife."
"My wife, to speak the truth, is a little too fond of making a display. To please her, I consented to give a party, and as I had enough of business matters to occupy my time, I left all the arrangements with her. I must own that she astonished me with the result of her preparations. Three hundred dollars for confectionary! That will never, never do."
"I heard, also, and I believe it came from as authentic a source, that your wines were two hundred and fifty dollars."
"Impossible! They did not cost one-half of that sum."
"My wife saw Mrs. Riston only day before yesterday, and had it from her own lips."
Riston was confounded. It seemed that his wife had not only indulged the most lavish expenditure, but had actually blazoned it about. It was impossible for him to ask this man tolend him money. He could not have looked him steadily in the face while he made such a request. As quickly as he could, he withdrew, and called upon another business friend. Here he was met by remarks of a similar kind, though made with rather more delicacy. Before leaving, he ventured to put the question —
"Can you spare me anything today?"
"Nothing at all to spare," was replied.
The same allusions to the splendid party he had given, met poor Riston, go where he would. He found it almost impossible to borrow money; everybody would have been happy to accommodate him, but nobody had anything to spare. At one o'clock he returned to his store, without having accomplished, comparatively, anything at all. He had still five thousand dollars to raise, and no certain prospect of doing it. He had gone the entire round and could get no adequate assistance. Everyone congratulated him on his brilliant entertainment and splendid house — but few had any money to lend him. Even those who had been most willing, before, to assist him — were now reserved, and, professedly,unable to do anything.
"I am a ruined man!" he said to himself, bitterly, as he sat down to collect his thoughts. "As I feared, this last act of folly has decided my fate!"
In the hope of sustaining himself by a heavy sacrifice, until he could get over his accumulated difficulties, Riston went, as a last resort, to a money-broker, and offered him three percent a month, besides a liberal commission, if he would get him the amount he wanted, on his own note of hand, at four months. The broker promised to do his best, but was not expectant. Two o'clock came; nothing had yet been done. Half-past two — the broker was not in his office. Riston was unable to compose himself sufficiently to sit down and wait for him — he walked the floor with agitated steps for ten minutes.
"All is lost!" he ejaculated, stopping suddenly and looking up at the clock — the time had passed on until it lacked but a quarter to three.
"Even if I had the money now, there would scarcely be time to pay the bills. Fool! fool that I was, not to have gone to the holders of them, and endeavored to make some arrangement. It would have been less disastrous than to have my bills dishonored."
While thinking thus, the broker entered quickly. Riston looked eagerly in his face. Hope died instantly.
"I can do nothing for you," said the agent, in a voice of regret. "Money is very tight."
Without a reply, Riston took the note he had placed in the broker's hands, put it into his pocket, and thanking him for the trouble he had taken, retired. He felt, to his own surprise, perfectly calm. The great struggle had ceased. The end had come. He yielded passively to the current, and let it bear him down. Returning to his store, he informed his principal clerk, in a few words, of the state of his affairs; and then gave directions to have all the books settled up with the utmost despatch, previous to a meeting of creditors, which he should call at the earliest possible day, that a full exhibit of his business could be made. He then took his way homeward. As he walked along, with his eyes upon the ground, he thought of his wife — not with anger, but with pity. It was his intention to inform her fully of what had occurred, and to make her see clearly that her extravagance had been the cause of his ruin. He knew that this must produce acute pain; but it would, he trusted, be beneficial.
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