Home Lights and Shadows Part 15

"I feel the same inclinations. But I am unwilling to encourage them.

And yet, I am not an advocate for continual visitings. The delights of our own sweet fireside, small though the circle be, I would enjoy often. But these pleasures will be increased tenfold by our willingness to let others share them, and, also, by our joining in their home--delights and social recreations."

A pause of a few moments ensued, when Mrs. Gray said,

"Suppose, then, Walter, we call over and see how they are getting on at 'home?' Pa and Ma are lonesome, now that I am away."

"Just what I was thinking of, Jane. So get on your things, and we will join them and spend a pleasant evening."

These brief conversations will indicate to the reader how each of the young men and their wives were thus early beginning to reap the fruits of true and false principles of action. We cannot trace each on his career, step by step, during the pa.s.sage of many years, though much that would interest and instruct could be gathered from their histories. The limits of a brief story like this will not permit us thus to linger. On, then, to the grand result of their lives we must pa.s.s. Let us look at the summing up of the whole matter, and see which of the young men started with the true secret of success in the world, and which of the young ladies evinced most wisdom in her choice of a husband.

CHAPTER III.

"Poor Mrs. Wilton!" remarked Mrs. Gray, now a cheerful, intelligent woman of forty, with half-a-dozen grown and half-grown up daughters, "it makes me sad whenever I see her, or think of her."

"Her husband was not kind to her, I believe, while she lived with him," said Mrs. Gray's visitor, whom she had addressed.

"It is said so. But I am sure I do not know. I never liked him, nor thought him a man of principle. I said as much as I thought prudent to discourage her from receiving his attentions. But she was a gay girl herself, and was attracted by dashing pretension, rather than by un.o.btrusive merit."

"It was thought at one time that Mr. Wilton would lead in the profession here. I remember when his name used frequently to get into the newspapers, coupled with high compliments on his brilliant talents."

"Yes. He flashed before the eyes of the crowd for awhile, but it was soon discovered that he had more brilliancy than substance. The loss of two or three important cases, that required solid argument and a well-digested array of facts and authorities, instead of flights of fancy and appeals to the feelings, ruined his standing at the bar.

The death of his father-in-law, with an insolvent estate, immediately after, took wonderfully from the estimation in which he was held. Thrown, thus, suddenly back, and upon his own resources, he sunk at once from the point of observation, and lingered around the court-house, picking up petty cases, as a matter of necessity.

Long before this, I had noticed that Mrs. Wilton had greatly changed. But now a sadder change took place--a separation from her husband. The cause of this separation I know not. I never asked her, nor to me has she ever alluded to it. But it is said that his manner towards her became insufferable, and that she sought protection and an asylum among her friends. Be the cause what it may, it is enough to make her a poor, heart-stricken creature."

"How well I remember, when their parties were the most splendid and best attended of the season."

"Yes, I well remember it too. Still, even then, gay and brilliant as Mrs. Wilton was, I never thought her happy. Indeed, seeing her often alone as I did, I could not but mark the painful contrast in her spirits. At home, when not entertaining company, she was listless or unhappy. How often have I come in upon her, and noticed her moistened eyes."

"Ah me! it must be a wrong beginning that makes so sad an ending."

The truth of the remark, as applicable in this case, struck Mrs.

Gray forcibly, and she mused in thoughtful silence for a few moments.

"Have you heard the news, Judge Gray?" said a lawyer, addressing the individual he had named, about the same hour that the conversation, just noted, occurred.

"No. What is it?"

"Why, Wilton has committed a forgery."

"O no, it cannot be!" said the Judge, in tones of painful surprise.

"It is too true, I fear, Judge."

"Is the amount considerable?"

"Ten thousand dollars is the sum mentioned."

"Has he been arrested?"

"No. But the officers are hard after him. The newspapers will announce the fact to-morrow morning."

Judge Gray leaned his head upon his hand, and, with his eyes cast upon the floor, sat for some moments in painful thought.

"Poor man!" he at length said, looking up. "The end has come at last. I have long feared for him. He started wrong in the beginning."

"I hope they will catch him," remarked the individual he was addressing.

Judge Gray did not reply, but cast his eyes again upon the floor.

"He has lived by gambling these six years," continued the lawyer, "and I suppose he has committed this forgery to pay some 'debt of honor.' Well, I can't say that I am sorry to be rid of him from this bar, for he was not a pleasant man to be forced into contact with."

"And yet he was a man of some talents," remarked the Judge, musingly.

"And when that is said all is said. Without industry, legal knowledge, or sound principles of action, what was he good for? He would do for a political stump declaimer--but, as a lawyer, in any case of moment, he was not worth a copper."

And thus saying, the lawyer turned away, and left Judge Gray to his own thoughts.

"I have unpleasant news to tell you, Jane," said Judge Gray, coming into the room where sat his wife, an hour afterwards.

"What is that, husband?" asked Mrs. Gray, looking up with a concerned countenance.

"Why, our old friend Charles Wilton has committed a forgery!"

"Poor Cara! It will break her heart," Mrs. Gray said in a sad tone.

"I do not suppose she has much affection for him, Jane."

"No, but she has a good deal of pride left--all, in fact, that sustains her. This last blow, I fear, will be too much for one who has no true strength of character."

"Would it not be well for you to call in and see her to-morrow? The papers will all announce the fact in the morning, and she may need the consolation which a true friend might be able to afford her."

"I will go, most certainly, much as my natural feelings shrink from the task. Where she is, I am sure she has no one to lean upon: for there is not one of her so-called friends, upon whom she feels herself a burden, that can or will sympathize with her truly."

"Go, then. And may mercy's errand find mercy's reward."

On the next morning all the city papers teemed with accounts of the late forgery, and blazoned Charles Wilton's name, with many opprobrious epithets before the public. Some went even so far as to allude to his wife, whom they said he had forsaken years before, and who was now, it was alleged, living in poverty, and, some hinted in disgrace and infamy.

Early in the day, Mrs. Gray repaired to the cheerless home of her early friend. She was shown to her chamber, where she found her lying insensible on the bed, with one of the newspapers in her hand, that alluded to herself in disgraceful terms.

Long and patient efforts to restore her, at length produced the desired result. But it was many days before she seemed distinctly conscious of what was pa.s.sing or would converse with any degree of coherency.

"Come and spend a few weeks with me, Cara."

Mrs. Gray said to her, one day, on calling in to see her; "I am sure it will do you good."