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Trumps: A Novel, a novel by George William Curtis |
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Chapter 86. In The City |
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_ CHAPTER LXXXVI. IN THE CITY It was a long journey. They stopped at Baltimore, at Philadelphia, and pushed on toward New York. While they were still upon the way Hope Wayne saw what she had been long expecting to see--and saw it without a solitary regret. Amy Waring was Amy Waring no longer; and Hope Wayne was the first who kissed Mrs. Lawrence Newt. Even Mrs. Simcoe looked benignantly upon the bride; and Aunt Martha wept over her as over her own child. The very day of the wedding Abel Newt and his companion arrived at Jersey City. Leaving Kitty in a hotel, he crossed the river, and ascertained that the vessel on which he had taken two berths under a false name was full and ready, and would sail upon her day. He showed himself in Wall Street, carefully dressed, carefully sober--evidently mindful, people said, of his new position; and they thought his coming home showed that he was on good terms with his family, and that he was really resolved to behave himself. For a day or two he appeared in the business streets and offices, and talked gravely of public measures. General Belch was confounded by the cool sobriety, and superiority, and ceremony of the Honorable Mr. Newt. When he made a joke, Abel laughed with such patronizing politeness that the General was frightened, and tried no more. When he treated Abel familiarly, and told him what a jolly lift his speech had given to their common cause--the Grant--the Honorable Mr. Newt replied, with a cold bow, that he was glad if he had done his duty and satisfied his constituents; bowing so coldly that the General was confounded. He spat into his fire, and said, "The Devil!" When Abel had gone, General Belch was profoundly conscious that King Log was better than King Stork, and thought regretfully of the Honorable Watkins Bodley. After a day or two the Honorable Mr. Newt went to his Uncle Lawrence's office. Abel had not often been there. He had never felt himself to be very welcome there; and as he came into the inner room where Lawrence and Gabriel sat, they were quite as curious to know why he had come as he was to know what his reception would be. Abel bowed politely, and said he could not help congratulating his uncle upon the news he had heard, but would not conceal his surprise. What his surprise was he did not explain; but Lawrence very well knew. Abel had the good sense not to mention, the name of Hope Wayne, and not to dwell upon any subject that involved feeling. He said that he hoped by-gones would be by-gones; that he had been a wild boy, but that a career now opened upon him of which he hoped to prove worthy. "There was a time, Uncle Lawrence," he said, "when I despised your warning; now I thank you for it." Lawrence held out his hand to his nephew: "Honesty is the best policy, at least, if nothing more," he said, smiling. "You have a chance; I hope, with all my heart, you will use it well." There was little more to say, and of that little Gabriel said nothing. Abel spoke of public affairs; and after a short time he took leave. "Can the leopard change his spots?" said Gabriel, looking at the senior partner. "A bad man may become better," was all the answer; and the two merchants were busy again. Returning to Wall Street, the Honorable Abel Newt met Mr. President Van Boozenberg. They shook hands, and the old gentleman said, warmly, "I see ye goin' into your Uncle Lawrence's a while ago, as I was comin' along South Street. Mr. Abel, Sir, I congratilate ee, Sir. I've read your speech, and I sez to ma, sez I, I'd no idee of it; none at all. Ma, sez she, Law, pa! I allers knowed Mr. Abel Newt would turn up trumps. You allers did have the women, Mr. Newt; and so I told ma." "I am very glad, Sir, that I have at last done something to deserve your approbation. I trust I shall not forfeit it. I have led rather a gay life, and careless; and my poor father and I have met with misfortunes. But they open a man's eyes, Sir; they are angels in disguise, as the poet says. I don't doubt they have been good for me. At least I'm resolved now to be steady and industrious; and I certainly should be a great fool if I were not." "Sartin, Sir, with your chances and prospects, yes, and your talents, coz, I allers said to ma, sez I, he's got talent if he hain't nothin' else. I suppose your Uncle Lawrence won't be so shy of you now, hey? No, of course not. A man who has a smart nevy in Congress has a tap in a good barrel." And Mr. Van Boozenberg laughed loudly at his own humor. "Why, yes. Sir. I think I may say that the pleasantest part of my new life--if you will allow me to use the expression--is my return to the friends best worth having. I think I have learned, Sir, that steady-going business, with no nonsense about it, is the permanent thing. It isn't flopdoddle, Sir, but it's solid food." "Tonguey," thought old Jacob Van Boozenberg, "but vastly improved. Has come to terms with Uncle Lawrence. Sensible fellow!" "I think he takes it," said Abel to himself, with the feeling of an angler, as he watched the other. Just before they parted Abel took out his pocket-book and told Mr. Van Boozenberg that he should like to negotiate a little piece of paper which was not altogether worthless, he believed. Smiling as he spoke, he handed a note for twenty-five thousand dollars, with his uncle's indorsement, to the President. The old gentleman looked at it carefully, smiled knowingly, "Yes, yes, I see. Sly dog, that Uncle Lawrence. I allers sez so. This ere's for the public service, I suppose, eh! Mr. Newt?" and the President chuckled over his confirmed conviction that Lawrence Newt was "jes' like other folks." He asked Abel to walk with him to the bank. They chatted as they passed along, nodded to those they knew, while some bowed politely to the young member whom they saw in such good company. "Well, well," said Mr. Zephyr Wetherley as he skimmed up Wall Street from the bank, where he had been getting dividends, "I didn't think to see the day when Abel Newt would be a solid, sensible man." And Mr. Wetherley wondered, in a sighing way, what was the secret of Abel's success. The honorable member came out of the bank with the money in his pocket. When the clock struck three he had the amount of all the notes in the form of several bills of foreign exchange. He went hastily to the river side and crossed to Jersey City. "They have sent to say that the ship sails at nine in the morning, and that we must be on board early," said Kitty Dunham, as he entered the room. "I am all ready," he replied, in a clear, cold, alert voice. "Now sit down." His tone was not to be resisted. The woman seated herself quietly and waited. "My affectionate Uncle Lawrence has given me a large sum of money, and recommends travelling for my health. The money is in bills on London and Paris. To-morrow morning we sail. We post to London--get the money; same day to Paris--get the money; straight on to Marseilles, and sail for Sicily. There we can take breath." He spoke rapidly, but calmly. She heard and understood every word. "I wish we could sail to-night," she said. "Plenty of time--plenty of time," answered Abel. "And why be so anxious for so long a journey?" "It seems long to you, too?" "Why, yes; it will be long. Yes, I am going on a long journey." He smiled with the hard black eyes a hard black smile. Kitty did not smile; but she took his hand gently. Abel shook his head, mockingly. "My dear Mrs. Delilah Jones, you overcome me with your sentimentality. I don't believe in love. That's what I believe in," said he, as he opened his pocket-book and showed her the bills. The woman looked at them unmoved. "Those are the delicate little keys of the Future," chuckled Abel, as he gloated over the paper. The woman raised her eyes and looked into his. They were busy with the bills. Then with the same low tone, as if the wind were wailing, she asked, "Abel, tell me, before we go upon this long journey, don't you love me in the least?" Her voice sank into an almost inaudible whisper. Abel turned and looked at her, gayly. "Love you? Why, woman, what is love? No, I don't love you. I don't love any body. But that's no matter; you shall go with me as if I did. You know, as well as I do, that I can't whine and sing silly. I'll be your friend, and you'll be mine, and this shall be the friend of both," said he, as he raised the bills in his hands. She sat beside him silent, and her eyes were hot and dry, not wet with tears. There was a look of woe in her face so touching and appealing that, when Abel happened to see it, he said, involuntarily, "Come, come, don't be silly." The evening came, and the Honorable Mr. Newt rose and walked about the room. "How slowly the time passes!" he said, pettishly. "I can't stand it." It was nine o'clock. Suddenly he sprang up from beside Kitty Dunham, who was silently working. "No," said he, "I really can not stand it. I'll run over to town, and be back by midnight. I do want to see the old place once more before that long journey," he added, with emphasis, as he put on his coat and hat. He ran from the room, and was just going out of the house when he heard a muffled voice calling to him from up stairs. "Why, Kitty, what is it?" he asked, as he stopped. There was no answer. Alarmed for a moment, he leaped up the stairs. She stood waiting for him at the door of the room. "Well!" exclaimed he, hastily. "You forgot to kiss me, Abel," she said. He took her by the shoulders, and looked at her before him. In her eyes there were pity, and gentleness, and love. "Fool!" he said, half-pleased, half-vexed--kissed her, and rushed out into the street. _ |
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