CHAPTER x.x.x.

FINANCIAL EMBARRa.s.sMENT.

And now let us turn to Mr. Verne, who is in a sad state of physical prostration.

The financial storm which overhung his daily prospect has at last swooped down upon him in merciless fury, hurling down every hope that hitherto buoyed him up and whispered encouraging words as he struggled on.

Mr. Verne had shut himself in his private apartments and asked that he might be left alone.

But ere long he was besieged by interviewers. Reporters, anxious to give the full benefit of the sad disaster to the clamoring public, who must know to a farthing the amount of the liabilities, and, of course, the a.s.sets.

But before "morning wore into evening" Mr. Verne had the comforting a.s.surance of a sympathetic heart. Mrs. Montgomery had a telegram conveying news of the a.s.signment, and in a few hours she was at home in "Sunnybank," trying every means within her power to console her stricken brother-in-law.

"It will never do to allow him to give up in this manner," said the true-hearted woman in a conversation with an old and tried friend of the family. "Something must be done to rouse him."

On the same evening a _Globe_ containing the news of the failure was handed to Mr. Verne as he sat with bowed head gazing mechanically at the list of figures before him. The notice was favorable to the man of business. It spoke of the sterling integrity of Stephen Verne, and showed that the disastrous crash was from circ.u.mstances over which he had no control.

The cause of the a.s.signment, it said, was due to the uncertainty of the moneys due him. The liabilities were large, but the a.s.sets would nearly cover them, and one thing was certain, the estate would not hold back one cent.

"Thank G.o.d," cried Mr. Verne as he threw down the paper and once more folded his arms across his breast, looking, as indeed he was, a total physical wreck.

But human charity is not common to the general public, nor among the weaker s.e.x.

"What will the Vernes do now without their grand carriages and retinue of servants? That stuck up old Mrs. Verne will have to go into the work herself, and do as other people, and not be sticking on any more airs or she will get snubbed up pretty often."

"Yes, and I wonder how she will manage her trains now going through the kitchen when it was almost impossible for her to get along the aisle in Trinity."

"Pride always has a fall," chimed in another.

It was indeed a noteworthy fact that throughout the whole range of uncharitable remarks made upon the matter not one syllable was uttered against Marguerite.

On the contrary she excited the compa.s.sion of the most callous- hearted. "Poor Marguerite, she will feel it bitterly."

"Yes, most of all, for she loved her father dearly. It will almost break her heart to see him looking so ill."

"It was none of her doings I a.s.sure you. I have seen much of Miss Verne, and have learned that her tastes are of the most simple kind, and if she had her own way they would have lived in a more quiet style than that of Sunnybank."

The speaker was an intelligent woman of the middle cla.s.s, whose business brought her in daily contact with the young lady, and she had thus formed a correct opinion of her.

Mrs. Montgomery did not wish to intrude upon the privacy of the stricken man, but she saw that he must be aroused from his apathy.

"It will kill him sooner or later," thought she, "but he must live to see a change for the better."

"Stephen, you have not written Matilda. It is better that she should know at once," said the woman, taking a seat beside her brother-in-law, and placing her hand upon his shoulder as gently as if he were an infant.

"G.o.d bless you, Hester, I am not alone; I yet have warm friends, let the world say what it will."

Mr. Verne's frame shook with emotion, and the tears stood in his eyes--a pitiable sight to the friend beside him.

"The world may say that you are an unfortunate man, Stephen, but it cannot say that you are a dishonest one," said the woman, cheerily; "and remember, Stephen," added she, "it is partly to the delinquency of others that you owe this."

"True, indeed, Hester," said Mr. Verne, brightening up, "had they given me time I would have redeemed every dollar of my common debts, but as it is now, every cent's worth of property I own shall go into the a.s.signee's possession as a.s.sets, for the benefit of each and every creditor."

"Why, then, take such a gloomy view of the affair, Stephen? Hundreds have been in the same position and came out all right in the end, and I see no reason why you should form an exception."

"That is true enough, Hester, but I feel that I am going downward."

And as Mr. Verne spoke he shut his teeth very firmly as if suffering intense pain.

Mrs. Montgomery was quick to detect the cause, but she made no comment upon it.

Prom the woman's heart went up a fervent prayer that Heaven would avert the threatening blow, and that quiet and content would yet reign in the now desolate home.

It was only by the utmost persuasion that Mr. Verne could be induced to eat a morsel of food.

"You are doing yourself a great injustice, Stephen. Think what you owe to your family. Think of Marguerite. Surely you will break her heart."

"Ah, Hester, you have spoken truly. I must bear up for the sake of my child; but oh G.o.d, it is hard to be branded in the eyes of the world as a rogue and a scoundrel. Mothers will curse me, and the orphan's wail will haunt me throughout time and eternity!"

Once more Mr. Verne placed his hand against his breast as if to ease the spasmodic pain which had then seized him.

"He is going fast," murmured Mrs. Montgomery, as she noted the livid lips and pallid face that followed the spasm.

"This cup of coffee will tempt anybody, and the rolls are delicious; just taste one, Stephen."

"I was thinking of my darling child, Hester; how do you think she will bear the news? And to think of her being exposed to the scoffs of the world. Hester, I can stand anything but that," and the groans that followed were agonizing.

"Stephen, I have more faith in Marguerite than you have. If you think she will mope and worry herself to death you are sadly mistaken." Then in a.s.suring tones added, "I do not wish to hurt your feelings, Stephen, but I firmly believe that as regards the financial trouble, Marguerite will not care a straw. She is not one of your namby-pamby girls, whom you could dress up and put under a gla.s.s case to look at. No, Marguerite is a rational, human being, capable of taking her place in the world, and looking misfortune in the face with a determination to succeed in whatever she may attempt."

"Hester, you are a student of human nature. You are capable of judging aright. G.o.d grant that my child may meet this trouble as you predict," said Mr. Verne, as he tried to swallow the food which had been so temptingly prepared by the ministering angel who now strove to make smooth the hard, rough pathway over which he now daily trod.

It was Mrs. Montgomery's hard, strong hand, that penned the lines conveying the news to Marguerite. "I11 news comes soon enough." was the former's remark, "and we can afford to await the next mail."

As the important missive is on its way across the broad waters of the Atlantic, let us take the liberty of intruding upon the privacy of the mother and daughter who are still occupying their handsome suite of apartments in Picadilly Square.

Marguerite had returned from "Ivy Cottage," the pretty little home of the Stanhope family, feeling much stronger and looking brighter and more cheerful.

"Mamma," exclaimed the girl looking intently into the handsome face.

"I have been thinking so much of home lately that it seems as if I had room for no other thoughts, and, oh, you cannot imagine how much I want to see papa."

Marguerite made a striking picture reclining beside her mother, and one arm resting on her knee. Her delicate morning wrapper lay in graceful folds around her, and reminded one of the draperies of a Venus de Medici.

What a world of expression was in the violet eyes as they pleaded for the return to the dreary cheerless home. What a depth of meaning lay in the purely oval face so beautifully defined in every lineament. What nature could withstand Marguerite Verne's entreaties?

"My dear, I am thinking just as much about home as you are, but I keep it to myself. It is impossible for us to go for another month, and you know we have promised Sir Arthur to make a visit at his country seat--a beautiful spot I am told."