The Lights and Shadows of Real Life Part 92

The blood mounted to the performer's cheeks. "Indeed you're mistaken though," half pettishly replied Miss Emma.

"But you _can_ play 'Yankee Doodle,'" retorted the first speaker.

Miss Emma left the instrument in anger.

"I'll never speak to the pert minx again as long as I live,"

whispered Miss Emma in the ear of a friend.

Thus ended the musical exhibition for that evening. As the spirit of wine grew more active, the men became less formal in their attentions, and the young ladies less reserved. Before the company broke up, I almost blush to say, that there was scarcely a lady present who had not suffered her red-ripe lips to be touched by those of every young man in the room. And on all these proceedings, the parents of Julia looked on with keen satisfaction! They liked to see the young people enjoying themselves!

Then there were rambles by moonlight, during which soft things were whispered in the ears of the young ladies. These were the occasions on which Warburton loved most to steal away the fond confidence of Julia; and, by degrees, he succeeded in fixing her regard upon himself. Consent was asked of the parents, and given; and soon Julia Forrester was Mrs. Warburton. It was only six months after the marriage that a commercial crisis arrived; one of those reactions from prosperity which occur in this country with singular regularity, every ten or fifteen years, and swept from Julia's father the whole of his property. This sudden revulsion so preyed upon his mind, that a serious illness came on, which hurried him in a brief period to the grave. The mother of Julia soon followed him.

Warburton, ere this, had neglected his wife, and wrung from her many a secret tear. He had married her for the prospect of worldly gain which the connection held out, and not from any genuine regard. And when all hope of a fortune was suddenly cut off, he as suddenly appeared in his real character of a heartless and unprincipled man.

He held the situation of clerk, at the time, in the same store where he had been for years. But immediately upon the death of his father-in-law, a flood of demands for debts due here and there came in upon him, and not having where with to meet them, he was thrown into jail, and obtained his freedom only by availing himself of the law made and provided for the benefit of Insolvent Debtors.

His poor wife knew nothing of the proceedings against him, until he was lodged in the jail. Hour after hour had pa.s.sed since the time for his return to dinner, and yet she listened in vain for his well-known footsteps. She felt strangely oppressed in feeling when the dim twilight came stealing sadly on, and still he came not home.

But when the clock struck nine, ten, eleven,--her distress of mind became heightened to agony. The question, so often asked of herself, "Where _can_ he be?" could find no answer. All night long she sat listening at the window, and sunk into a heavy slumber, just as the grey light of morning stole into the window and paled the expiring lamp. From this slumber, which had continued for nearly two hours, she was aroused by the entrance of a servant, who handed her a note, addressed in the well-known hand of her husband. Tremblingly she tore open the seal; at the first words:

Jail.

DEAR JULIA:

the note fell from her hand, and she pressed her aching head for a moment, as if she feared that her senses would leave her. Then s.n.a.t.c.hing up the paper, she read:--

"Yesterday I was sent here for debt. I owe more than I can possibly pay, and I see no chance of getting out but by availing myself of the Insolvent Law, which I am determined to do. Don't let it trouble you, Julia; I shall not be here long. To-morrow I shall probably be at liberty. Good-bye, and keep a brave heart,

H. WARBURTON."

For some time after reading this letter, a stupor came over her senses. Utterly unprepared for such a distressing event, she knew not how to act. The idea of a jail had ever been a.s.sociated in her mind with disgrace and crime, and to think that her own husband was in jail almost bereft her of rational thought. Slowly, however, she at length rallied, and found herself able to appreciate her situation, and to think more clearly on her course of action.

Her first determination was to go to her husband. This she immediately did. When admitted, she fell senseless in his arms, and it was a long time before she recovered her consciousness. Her presence seemed to move his feelings less than it annoyed him. There was nothing about his manner that sought affectionately her sympathy and confidence--that which gives woman, in situations no matter how distressing, something so much like happiness to bestow. He gave her but little satisfaction as to the manner in which he became involved, and when, after several hours, she prepared to go home, at his suggestion, he told her that she must not come there again, as it was not a fit place for her.

"If you are here, Henry," was her reply, the tears starting freshly to her eyes--"it is a fit place for me."

"That's all nonsense and sentiment, Julia! This is no place for you, and you must not come again. I shall be out in a day or two."

"A day or two is a long--long time,"--and the poor wife's voice trembled as she spoke.

"It will soon pa.s.s away."

"It will seem ages to me, and you in this dreadful place. I must come tomorrow, Henry. Tell me who has imprisoned you, and I will go to him, and come to-morrow with his answer. He cannot stand the pleadings of a wife for her husband."

"It's no use, at all, Julia. He is a hard-faced villain, and will insult you if you see him."

"He cannot--he dare not!"

"He dare do anything."

"Dear Henry, tell me his name."

"No!--no!--no!--It's no use to ask me."

She had many times before suffered from his petulance and coldness; but under present circ.u.mstances, when she sought to bring him sympathy and relief, to be repulsed, seemed as though it would break her heart. Slowly and in tears did she leave the dreadful place that confined her husband, and sought her home. There she endeavoured to rally her scattered thoughts, and devise some means of relief. Her first movement was to go to the employers of her husband. They received her coldly, and after she had stated the condition of her husband, told her that they could offer no relief, and hinted that his conduct had been such as to forfeit their confidence. This was a double blow; and she returned home with but strength enough to seek her chamber and throw herself, almost fainting, upon her bed.

For hours she lay in a kind of nervous stupor, the most fantastic and troubled images floating through her brain. Sometimes she would start up, at the imagined sound of her husband's voice, and spring to the chamber-door to meet him. But the chilling reality would drive her back in tears. Where now were the crowds of friends that but a short time since had hovered round her? They were but fashionable, soulless insects--the cold winds of adversity had swept them away. Since the failure and death of her father, not one of the many who had called her friend had come near her lonely dwelling.

But she could not complain. More than one friend had she deserted, when misfortune came suddenly upon them.

She took no food through the whole of that dreadful day, and could find no oblivious sleep during the night of agony that followed. On the next day, just as she had determined to go again to the prison, her quick ear recognised the foot-fall of her husband. She sprang to meet him, with a gladder heart than she had known for many weeks--but his cold manner and brief words threw back upon her feelings a sickening chill.

"We must move from here, Julia," said he, after a few silent moments, and looked at her as though he expected objection as a matter of course.

"I am willing, if it is necessary, Henry. I will go anywhere with _you_."

Her manner softened his feelings, and he said more tenderly,

"Things are changed with me, Julia. In expectation of something handsome from your father, I have been imprudent, and am now largely in debt. The Messrs. R. & L. will not, I am sure, take me back into their store, and it will be hard, I am afraid, for me to get a situation in town. Our furniture, which I have secured to you, is all we have, except about money enough to pay our quarter's rent now due. I see no wiser plan for us than to sell this furniture, except enough for one chamber, and then go to boarding. It will bring a sum sufficient to pay our board and other expenses for at least one year, if we manage prudently; and, surely, I can get something to do in the mean time."

"I am willing for anything, dear Henry!" said his wife, twining her arms about his neck, and laying her pale cheek to his. The furniture was accordingly sold, and the reduced and humbled couple removed to a boardinghouse.

As he had expected, Warburton found it hard to get employment.

Finally, after doing nothing for two months, he accepted the situation of bar-keeper at one of the city hotels. Julia pleaded hard with him not to go there, for she feared the influence of such a place upon him, but he would listen to no argument.

His wife soon began to observe indications of a change for the worse in his character. He grew more pettish and dissatisfied, and frequently acted towards her with great unkindness. He was rarely, if ever, at home before midnight, and then repulsed every affectionate act or word. Several times he came in intoxicated, and once, while in that state, he struck her a severe blow on the head, which caused an illness of several weeks.

At the end of a year, Warburton had not only become dissipated in his habits, but had connected himself with a set of gamblers, who, as he proved to be a skilful hand, and not at all squeamish, resolved to send him on a trip down the Ohio and Mississippi, to New Orleans, for mutual benefit. To this he had not the slightest objection. He told his wife that he was going to New Orleans on business for the Stage Office, and would probably be gone all winter. Unkind as he had grown, it was hard parting. Gladly would she have taken all the risk of fatigue, to have accompanied him with her babe but four months old, but he would listen to no such proposal. When he did go, she felt sick at heart, and, as the thought flashed across her mind that he might probably desert her, helpless and friendless as she was, it seemed as if the fever of her mind would end in madness.

Regularly, however, for several months, she heard from him, and each time he enclosed her money; but little more than was sufficient to meet expenses. In the last letter she received, he hinted that he might return home in a few weeks. At the usual time of receiving a letter, she waited day after day, hoping and almost fearing to receive one--anxious to hear from him, and yet fearing that he might have changed his mind as to his contemplated return.

Week after week pa.s.sed, and there were no tidings. Day after day she went to the post-office with an anxious heart, which throbbed quicker and quicker as the clerk mechanically and carelessly turned over letter after letter, and at last p.r.o.nounced the word "none,"

with professional indifference. Then it would seem to stop, and lie like a motionless weight in her bosom, and she would steal away paler and sicker than when she came. At last, her distress of mind became so great, that she went, reluctantly, to the stage-office, to inquire if they had heard from him recently. To her hesitating, anxious inquiry, she received the brief reply that they knew nothing of him.

"But is he not in the employment of this office?"

"I hope not," was the short, sneering reply of one of the clerks.

"What do you mean, sir?" she asked, in an excited tone--"he is my husband."

The manner of the man instantly changed. "Nothing, ma'am.--It was only a thoughtless reply. He is not, however, in our employment, and never has been."

Mrs. Warburton turned pale as ashes. A chair was instantly handed to her, and a gla.s.s of water, and every kind attention offered.

At this moment a man entered, who eyed Mrs. W. with a vulgar stare.

The person who had first spoken to Mrs. W. took him aside, and after conversing in whispers for a few moments, turned to her and said that he had just learned that her husband had joined a band of traders, and was now on his way to Mexico.

"How do you know?" was the quick reply.

"This gentleman has just told me."

"And how do you know, sir?"