"I will tell her that you are a brave, generous boy, and that I am eternally indebted to you," said the captain.
"That"s very kind of you captin; but if you could only say man--now a generous man--I should be much obliged. You haven"t no idea how much too short my winter trowsers are!"
"I will say any thing to prove how happy you have made me. The dear child--and this is her writing?" answered the captain, reading the letter a third time.
Tom watched him keenly, till the blood mounted into his fine face. Some great struggle was going on in his heart, that at last burst forth in words.
"Take it," he said; "keep the letter. I give it up; but when you see her remember that it bust my heart to do it. Good-by, captain. Some time or another I shall want something of you, but wait till I"ve stopped growing. There"s all the world afore us. Good-by."
The captain called after him. Tom refused to look back, but marched off at a quick pace, waving his hand. The truth is, our youngster"s face was bathed in tears. It really had almost broken his heart to give up the letter--the first and dearest epistle of his life.
CHAPTER LXI.
UNSATISFIED VANITY.
Mr. Nelson had placed a Nemesis in his household, and she gave him full measure of retribution. The few days of sunshine which he had purchased, soon faded away; and he was left to wander to and fro in that splendid house, more desolate than the pauper whom his wife sent haughtily from his door.
Step by step, the woman for whom he had sacrificed every thing, became a very tyrant in his house. Indifferent at first, then arrogant, and at last insufferably insolent, she scarcely gave him breathing room in his own home. The very tread of his foot in the vestibule filled her with a sort of resentment, as if he had no right, in any degree, to disturb the luxury of her existence. Nothing but her insatiable vanity won for him even a gleam of favor. That was the strong pa.s.sion of her nature, and in its complete gratification she sometimes condescended to endure his presence with some show of cheerfulness.
True, Mrs. Nelson was now comparatively independent. A few short weeks of coquetry--for that is really the name by which her attempts at affection should be given--had won this much from her infatuated victim; but it often happens that a woman who scatters her husband"s money with recklessness, proves parsimonious where her own is concerned. This was the case with Mrs. Nelson; she had no fancy for diminishing her own resources; on the contrary, she had, without consulting Nelson, placed them in a way to command more than the usual interest, at the inevitable result of more than ordinary risk.
Thus the demands of unlimited extravagance made it important that something like marital cordiality should be maintained with her husband, and from this necessity, gleams of coquettish affection would sometimes break upon his loneliness, which she foolishly believed would always prove sufficient to keep him at her feet.
It is generally the dregs of poor wine that become sour. That love can turn to hate, no one who ever felt the true pa.s.sion will believe. But there are mixed feelings that combine with affection in evil natures, like foreign ingredients in the wine, and these yield to circ.u.mstances as that does to the atmosphere, turning to indifference, contempt, or hate, as the case may be.
This change was going on with Nelson. His wife did not see it, for, with a good deal of cleverness, she had not the intellect to comprehend a character like his. Her reign over him had been so complete--he had received her slightest favors with such grat.i.tude--that any idea of revolt never entered her mind. A few blandishments had always obtained power over him to any extent, and these she had always at command.
But she too was setting up a Nemesis in the household, not the less powerful that it was slow to come.
This woman"s life had become one wild commotion--nothing contented her.
The desire of one day was flung off by the caprice of the next. The house was one thoroughfare of fashion. Her position once acknowledged in that world which every one talks of, but which, in a republic like ours, is never permanently defined--her hold upon it became complete; but it was maintained at great cost; morning breakfasts, evening parties, and those exquisite little suppers which are the gems of a sumptuous establishment, came and went in endless succession. Her life was a triumph of vanity--her ambition fulfilled. She had no character for higher aspirations, and only aimed at something new, something that would sweep all social compet.i.tion aside.
This was altogether opposed to Nelson"s ideas of domestic life. His ambition was of a sterner nature. He wanted power abroad, and domestic love at home. But the woman he had chosen overshadowed him with her dashing frivolity--put him aside with her insolent pretension. His strong nature revolted at last. Month after month he had walked through her magnificent festivities like a stranger, scarcely recognized by her guests, or approached by herself, unless the great need of money brought her smiling to his presence, and all this time one fact was brooding in his mind--for all his love the woman had given him nothing.
These thoughts hardened the rich man against the woman he had almost adored. He grew sombre and stern as a rock. No one ever saw him smile, or if he did, the gleam of a serpent stole into his eyes, revealing the venom within. This state of things might have gone on for months, perhaps years, but for a new source of excitement which the lady had searched out for herself. Hitherto the expense and ostentation of her life had been its chief objection. But display requires great genius in its arrangement not to become monotonous, and of all things on earth the routine of a merely fashionable life is the least interesting. Mrs.
Nelson began to feel this. Even the triumphs of her vanity grew sickly; she wanted new fields for display. This feeling led her to the very verge of a precipice. There was one corner in Nelson"s heart in which a sleeping serpent lay coiled, which even she must not dare to arouse. But with her usual audacity she trampled even there.
In New York there is always a floating population of foreigners whose business it is to be amused, and who have, with the aid of liberal travel abroad, introduced many customs into our republican society which a New Englander of any cla.s.s is not quite prepared to accept.
Now Mrs. Nelson began to weary of her fashionable dissipation--the attentions of those very men made one of the chief attractions of her life. They were invited to her house; she received with pleasure their exaggerated flatteries, and gradually her whole mode of thought became so changed that the woman was scarcely to be recognized.
What Nelson suffered at first is beyond the power of description; although it wounded his pride terribly, he gave these troubles no utterance, and had scarcely expressed a word of disapproval, but his brow grew heavy with frowns and an iron pressure of the mouth became habitual. He never sought his wife"s presence now, and even pa.s.sed her, if they chanced to meet, with lowering avoidance.
With this new caprice Mrs. Nelson"s extravagance had somewhat abated, and having no special favors to ask, she treated her husband"s frowns with the utmost disdain, if for a moment they excited her attention. He took no pains to enforce his displeasure upon her, but with stolid firmness went on his way.
During her married life this woman had made many efforts to find out the sources of her husband"s wealth, but except that all her expenditures were supplied in foreign gold, she could form no real idea of his resources. But this fact convinced her that he must have made vast investments abroad, and the strongest desire she had left was to ascertain the exact position and amount of these investments, which, in the end, must, she was certain, become her own, either by depletion or bequest.
But for the fixed conviction of his wife"s indifference, the art of this woman would, in the end, have gained the information she craved; but Nelson felt that in this secret lay his entire hold on her. In fact he dared not trust her or divide the corroding anxieties of his existence with any human being.
At length, in the pauses of a foreign flirtation, for with her these things never approached a point beyond that of gratified vanity, she began to reflect on the persistent silence of her husband, and viewing him as the source of all her luxuries, became vaguely uneasy, as she had done once before, lest he should escape her control.
One evening, when it chanced that she had no visitors, this doubt came across her, and under its influence she went in search of her husband.
CHAPTER LXII.
ARTFUL FASCINATIONS.
Thrasher was sitting alone in the room we have spoken of, reading or appearing to read, a large book that lay open on the library table. The rustle of a purple brocaded dress as it swept over the tessellated floor, disturbed him. He raised his head and looked steadily in his wife"s face as she approached, but without a sign either of gladness or anger.
"Always alone," she said, playfully leaning over his shoulder--"always studying and leaving his poor wife to her solitude."
He looked at her keenly, turning his head with a gesture of avoidance, but still reading her with his eyes.
"What do you want now, madame?"
She absolutely turned pale to the lips. There was no anger in his tone, but it cut through her flippancy like a sword.
"What do I want, Nelson?" she faltered.
"Yes, how much?"
The tones were sharp with sarcasm; she winced under them, and slowly removed her arm from his shoulder. The ma.s.sive bracelets she wore jingled faintly with the motion. Nelson glanced at them with a bitter sneer.
"Those things were not among the jewels I gave you."
She flushed to the temples.
"No," she said, with some truth; "you always seemed anxious and troubled, so----"
"So you accepted these from some one else?"
"No, I bought them. Who would give me any thing that I cannot purchase for myself? The jeweller imported them expressly to tempt me."
She resumed all her confidence now. This allusion to the jewels soothed her into the idea that it was only a spasm of jealousy which had influenced his words. She leaned her white arm on his shoulder again, and touched his cheek with her own, glancing down on the book he had been reading.
He closed the volume suddenly, and leaned his arm upon it.
"And you wont let me read?"
"No."