 | CHAPTER XI.
In which a catastrophe begins. Sheppard Lee |  |
11. CHAPTER XI.
In which a catastrophe begins.
The various mischances and afflictions, as narrated
in the preceding chapter, which rewarded my
virtue, had begun to affect my mind with sundry
pangs of melancholy and misgiving. I perceived
that the world was ungrateful, and I had my doubts
whether it was a whit the better for my goodness.
These doubts and this persuasion were confirmed
by the experience of each succeeding day; and by
the month of September as aforesaid, I found myself
becoming just as miserable a man as I had
ever been before, and perhaps more so, being pierced
not merely with the ingratitude of those I had
befriended, but convinced that the unworthiness of
man was a thing man was determined to persevere
in.
It was at the moment of my greatest distress,
that the catastrophe alluded to before happened;
and this was nothing less than the sudden bankruptcy
of Abel Snipe, whereby I was reduced in a
made the calamity still more painful, was a conviction
forced upon me by my own reflections, as well
as the representations of others, that the failure
could not have happened without a fraudulent design
on the part of the fiduciary. It is true, this
worthy gentleman was the first to inform me of his
mishap, which he did with tears in his eyes, and
with divers outbreaks of self-accusation and despair;
he declared that his imprudence had ruined
me, his benefactor, and implored me, his benefactor,
to knock him on the head with a poker I had
begun to embrace in my agitation; but how he
had effected such a catastrophe I could not bring
him clearly to explain. The only answers I could
get from him were, “Speculation, speculation—bad
speculation!—ruined my benefactor! might as
well have murdered thee!” and so on; and having
given vent to some dozen or more of such frantic
interjections, he ran out of the house.
Enter Jonathan the very next moment. The
sight of him renewed my grief; he, poor youth,
was ruined as well as myself, yet not wholly; for,
as good luck would have it, I had, a week or two
before, after long cogitation on the subject, resolved
to marry him to the maid Ellen Wild, and so secure
his happiness more certainly than, it appeared
to me, it could be secured by a life of philanthropy.
To effect this desirable purpose I bestowed
upon him the only property which I had not thought
fit to put into Abel Snipe's hands, being the new
sum of money, as soon as it could be conveniently
withdrawn from the concern. He received the
gift and the promise with much joy and gratitude,
but betrayed surprising indifference on the score of
matrimony, saying that he was in no great hurry,
and in fact giving me to understand that there was
a difference between him and the maiden.
“Jonathan,” said I, as soon as I saw him, “thee
is a ruined young man. Abel has broken.”
“All to smash!” said Jonathan; “I know all
about it. Horrible pickle we're in. But I say,
uncle, if thee can borrow twenty thousand dollars,
we can save friend Abel yet.”
“Does thee say so?” said I; “is it true?”
“Verily,” said Jonathan, “I have looked over
the demands, and twenty thousand dollars by nine
o'clock to-morrow will make all straight. But
where will thee get twenty thousand dollars?”
“Where?” said I, fairly dancing for joy. “It
was but two days since that thy friend Ebenezer
Wild did offer me exactly the sum of twenty
thousand dollars for the new house as it stood, not
knowing I had conveyed it to thee, until I told him
the same, as a reason why I could not take such a
handsome offer.”
“Well,” said Jonathan, opening his eyes, “what
then?”
“Surely,” said I, “if he would give twenty
thousand then, he will give twenty thousand now.
And so, Jonathan—”
“And so,” said Jonathan, “thee wants me to
sell the house, does thee? and give thee back the
money? Uncle Zachariah, thee should be a little
more reasonable. Thee must remember that the
house is mine; and as it seems to be all I am ever
to get, why, uncle, thee must excuse me, but—I
have no notion of parting with it.”
If Jonathan had picked up the poker and served
me the turn Abel Snipe had so piteously entreated
me to serve him—that is, knocked me on the
head, I could not have been more shocked and
horror-struck than I was by these words.
“What, Jonathan,” said I, “does thee refuse to
save me from ruin—me, who have been a father to
thee, and given thee all that thou hast?”
“No,” said Jonathan, coolly, “I am not so bad
as that; but as this house is all I have, I can't
think of running too much risk with it. Suppose
thee borrows that twenty thousand dollars that
Ebenezer Wild has so handy: he is thy friend as
well as mine. Or suppose thee tries some of thy
other friends. Thee has often loaned to them, and
not often borrowed. Sure thee has many friends
who can spare money better than I can.”
“Oh, thou ungrateful young man!” said I.
“Don't go to call me hard names,” said the perfidious
and unfeeling youth; “for, if thee comes to
that, uncle Zachariah, I can tell thee, thee is the
ungrateful man—though not a young one. Haven't
I been as a son to thee for eighteen long years?
haven't I humoured all thy foolish old notions, even
and philanthropy, and so on? haven't I given up
Ellen Wild to please thee? And hasn't thee, after
all my pains, choused me out of the portion I had
a right to expect of thee, except a poor beggarly
unfinished house, only worth twenty thousand dollars?
Yes, thee has, uncle Zachariah, thee can't
deny it. Don't thee talk to me of ingratitude.”
“Thou art a viper,” said I.
“If I am,” said Jonathan in a huff, “I won't stay
to be trodden on.”
And with that, the heartless creature, tossing up
his head like an emperor, stalked out of the house,
leaving me petrified by the enormity of his baseness.
| CHAPTER XI.
In which a catastrophe begins. Sheppard Lee | |