Woman's Trials

MEANWHILE the hours passed with the mother, sister, and brother in the most agonizing suspense.  Henry, who had been drawn away into evil company by two young men who boarded in the house, was neglecting his studies, and pressing on towards speedy ruin.  To drinking and association with the vicious, he now added gaming.  Little did his mother dream of the perilous ways his feet were treading.  On this occasion he had come in, as has been seen, with a demand for ten dollars.  When he left home in the morning, it was in company with the young man named Barling.  Instead of his going to the office where he was studying, or his companion to his place of business, they went to a certain public house in Chestnut Street, where they first drank at the bar.

“Shall we go up into the billiard-room?” said Barling, as they turned from the white marble counter at which they had been drinking.

“I don’t care.  Have you time to play a game?” replied Henry.

“Oh, yes.  We’re not very busy at the store to-day.”

So the two young men ascended to the billiard-room, and spent a couple of hours there.  Both played very well, and were pretty equally matched.

From the billiard-room, they proceeded to another part of the house, more retired, and there, at the suggestion of Barling, tried a game at cards for a small stake.  Young Darlington was loser at first, but, after a time, regained his losses and made some advance on his fellow-player.  Hours passed in playing and drinking; and finally, Darlington, whose good fortune did not continue, parted with every sixpence.

“Lend me a dollar,” said he as the last game went against him.

The dollar was lent, and the playing renewed.  Thus it went on, hour after hour, neither of the young men stopping to eat any thing, though both drank too frequently.  At last, Darlington was ten dollars in debt to Barling, who, on being asked for another loan, declined any further advances.  Stung by the refusal, Henry said to him, rising as he spoke—­

“Do you mean by this that you are afraid I will never return the money?”

“Oh, no,” replied Barling.  “But I don’t want to play against you any longer.  Your luck is bad.”

“I can beat you,” said Darlington.

“You hav’n’t done it to-day certainly,” answered Barling.

“Will you wait here a quarter of an hour?” asked Henry.

“For what?”

“I want to pay you off and begin again.  I am going for some money.”

“Yes, I’ll wait,” replied the young man.

“Very well.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

It was for this work and for this purpose that Henry Darlington came to his mother just at the moment the absence of Miriam and her purpose in leaving had been discovered.  The effect of the painful news on the young man has already been described.  From the time he became aware of the fact that Miriam had gone away with Burton for the purpose of becoming his wife, until ten o’clock at night, he was in an agony of suspense.  As the uncle could not be found at the office where he wrote, nor at the house where he boarded, it was concluded that he had reached the boat before its departure, and gone on with the fugitives in the train to New York.  Nothing was therefore left for the distressed family but to await his return.

How anxiously passed the hours!  At tea time Edith only made her appearance.  Henry and his mother remained in the chamber of the latter.  As for the young man, he was cast down and distressed beyond measure, vexing his spirit with self-accusations that were but too well founded.

“Oh, mother!” said he, while they were alone, starting up from where he had been sitting with his face buried in his hands—­“oh, mother! what evils have come through this opening of our house, for strangers to enter!  Miriam, our sweet, gentle, pure-hearted Miriam, has been lured away by one of the worst of men; and!”—­the young man checked himself a moment or two, and then continued—­“and I have been drawn away from right paths into those that lead to sure destruction.  Mother, I have been in great danger.  Until Barling and Mason came into our family, I was guiltless of any act that could awaken a blush of shame upon my cheek.  Oh, that I had never met them!”

“Henry!  Henry! what do you mean by this?” exclaimed Mrs. Darlington, in a voice full of anguish.

“I have been standing on the brink of a precipice,” replied the young man with more calmness.  “But a hand has suddenly drawn me away, and I am trembling at the danger I have escaped.  Oh, mother, will you not give up this mode of life?  We have none of us been happy.  I have never felt as if I had a home since it began.  And you—­what a slave have you been! and how unhappy!  Can nothing be done except keeping boarders?  Oh, what would I not give for the dear seclusion of a home where no stranger’s foot could enter!”

“Some other mode of living must be sought, my son,” replied Mrs. Darlington.  “Added to all the evils attendant on the present mode, is that of a positive loss instead of a profit.  Several hundred dollars have been wasted already, and daily am I going in debt.”

“Then, mother, let us change at once,” replied the young man.  “It would be better to shrink together in a single room than to continue as we are.  I will seek a clerkship in a store and earn what I can to help support the family.”

“I can think of nothing now but Miriam!” said Mrs. Darlington.  “Oh, if she were back again, safe from the toils that have been thrown around her, I think I would be the most thankful of mortals!  Oh, my child! my child!”

What could Henry say to comfort his mother?  Nothing.  And he remained silent.

Long after this, Mrs. Darlington, with Henry and Edith, were sitting together in painful suspense.  No word had been spoken by either for the space of nearly an hour.  The clock struck ten.

“I would give worlds to see my dear, dear child!” murmured Mrs. Darlington.

Just then a carriage drove up to the door and stopped.  Henry sprang down stairs; but neither Edith nor her mother could move from where they sat.  As the former opened the street door, Miriam stood with her uncle on the threshold.  Henry looked at her earnestly and tenderly for an instant, and then, staggering back, leaned against the wall for support.

“Where is your mother?” asked Mr. Ellis.

“In her own room,” said Henry, in a voice scarcely audible.

Miriam sprang up the stairs with the fleetness of an antelope, and, in a few moments, was sobbing on her mother’s bosom.

“Miriam!  Miriam!” said Mrs. Darlington, in a thrilling voice, “do you return the same as when you left?”

“Yes, thank God!” came from the maiden’s lips.

“Thank God! thank God!” responded the mother, wildly.  “Oh, my child, what a fearful misery you have escaped!”

In a few minutes, the mother and sisters were joined by Henry.

“Where is your uncle?” asked Mrs. Darlington.

“He has gone away; but says that he will see you to-morrow.”

Over the remainder of that evening we will here draw a veil.