CHAPTER VI

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Before evening Hiram had informed himself fully (through Hill) of the current rumors about the failure of Allwise, Tenant & Co. He was glad to find a universal sympathy prevailing in all business circles for this old and respectable house.

'That's well, at any rate,' quoth Hiram to himself. 'No one will think of attacking the old gentleman, if he does secure a portion of his property, or, rather, nobody will suspect him of attempting it. He is bound in honor to me [oh, Hiram! _honor!_] to protect his daughter. Such was really the agreement, that is, by implication, when we became engaged. It won't be honest if he leaves me in the lurch. He need not think that he can do that, though. Twelve thousand dollars! Why, it will scarcely board the old folks in any decent place; and who does he think is going to marry his daughter at that rate?' * * *

Hiram was at the house at his usual hour. It was a lovely evening, about the first of June, and as he walked slowly along, he caught a glimpse of Emma through the blinds. She was seated at a window, evidently watching for his coming. He could perceive, before she knew it was he, that her countenance was troubled. Hiram turned away his head. Evidently something attracted him in another direction.

Mr. Tenant resided in a handsome house in one of the finest squares of the city. As Hiram mounted the steps, he paused a moment to survey the scene. The trees were in full leaf, and the odor of flowers filled with their fragrance the evening air.

'No, he must not give this up,' he muttered.

He turned and rang the bell sharply. It was a habit of Emma to open the door herself when she saw him coming, but this time the servant responded to the summons.

Hiram passed into the front parlor without speaking. As he approached Emma, she rose and threw herself into his arms, and burst into tears. She did not attempt to speak, but kept sobbing as if heart-broken.

Hiram stood still, and, in consequence of his undecided state of mind, a good deal embarrassed.

'Why, what is the matter, Emma?' he said at length. 'Has anything happened to your father or mother?'

'You know what has happened,' she finally articulated.

'Well, my dear child, is that anything to be so distressed about?'

'Don't _you_ care?' she exclaimed, looking up joyfully.

'To be sure I care, but only on your account, and'--

'Oh, never think of me. I shall be the most light-hearted creature in the world. I was only afraid--afraid'--

'Of what, pray?'

'I cannot tell. That--that--perhaps--perhaps--you would not--that--papa's losing everything might make a difference in your feelings. Now don't be angry. (Hiram was looking grave.) I did not _really_ think it would; but--but the bare possibility has made me so very unhappy--so very, very unhappy!' and she began to cry again.

'Come, Emma, you must not be so foolish. Sit down now with me, and let me say a few words to you; for your father will want me in a few minutes, and I shall have to be with him all the evening.'

'Oh, I am so glad; you will be such a comfort to him. I know you will.'

Hiram made no reply; both took their seats, and then he spoke.

'Emma,' he said, in a tone so solemn and important that it struck terror to her soul, she knew not wherefore--'Emma, this is a momentous period of your life, and everything depends on the steps you take'--

'Why, Hiram, what _do_ you mean--what _can_ you mean?'

'Nothing to alarm you, but everything to impress you with the fact that no time is to be lost. Your father has made the foolish resolution to give up all his private property to his creditors'--

'So he told mamma and me. Is that not right?'

'No, it is not right. It is wrong,' replied Hiram, in a harsh tone. 'More than wrong--sinful--wicked, very wicked. Do you know who it is the Scripture says is worse than an infidel?'

'I do not,' she replied faintly.

Hiram intended to frighten her, and he had succeeded.

'You do not! Well, it is the man who fails to provide for his own household. Why, we had the text in our Sunday-school lesson only three weeks ago.'

Emma sat paralyzed.

'Now, Emma,' continued Hiram, 'I want you to see your mother, and tell her what I say. Tell her your father is determined to ruin the whole of you--going to give up this very house--just think of that.'

'Papa has already told us so,' said Emma in a low, timid tone; 'but he says it is the only honorable course.'

'Honorable!' exclaimed Hiram, pettishly. 'Stuff--nonsense. I tell you that you are all crazy. You don't think what you are about. Wait till you are turned out of doors, bag and baggage, then see how you will feel--but then it will be too late. Do you understand?'

Emma Tenant was not a brilliant girl, but she had good sense and an honest nature. By degrees she recovered from the stupor into which Hiram's onslaught threw her; she began to feel something of her lover's purpose, and appreciate something of the position he might soon assume. Loving and trustful, these faint glimmerings of the truth appalled her. She did not cry any more. She became pale. She breathed short and quick.

'Hiram,' she gasped, 'you mean something--I fear you mean something. Papa knows best what is honest, better than you--a young man. To lose our property would make me unhappy. And I thought--yes, I conceived--oh, Hiram--tell me--_am_ I going to lose you?' she cried, interrupting herself. 'If it be so, say it--say it now. Do not keep me in suspense.'

'Why, Emma, how nervous you are! Ah, here comes your father. I see you are waiting for me. I am quite ready, sir.'

'Good. Emma, can you spare him for one evening? You will soon have him all to yourself--eh?' and, with a pleasant tap on her cheek, Mr. Tenant turned and left the room.

Hiram followed without saying a word.

Emma sat by herself an hour--at least an hour. The servant came in to light the gas, but she would not permit it. I won't attempt to describe her thoughts.

At length she rose, and took her way to her mother's room. She told her just what had passed. Mrs. Tenant was a superior woman. Her experience taught her, despite her good opinion of Hiram, for he had spared no pains to present himself favorably, that he might prove to be merely mercenary. Yet, after all, she did not think it probable. She said all she consistently could say to soothe her child, without absolutely declaring that she believed her fears to be groundless. _That_ she dared not utter. She finished by a very common and rational argument, which, by the way, has very little comfort in it:

'I know, my darling, that you love him, but you cannot love a mean, low-spirited creature; and if he prove to be such, let us be thankful for your escape.'

She kissed and caressed her child--her only child. But her words were poor consolation to Emma, whose heart was devoted to this man--very meagre consolation. Mrs. Tenant knew it; but what could she say or do more, just then? She could only watch and stand ready to protect her daughter's happiness, when events should decide what course she was to take.

* * * * *

Hiram spent the entire evening looking over accounts and papers with Mr. Tenant. His manner was quiet but assiduous. Very useful he made himself. Frequently in the course of the evening he drew from that gentleman well-merited encomiums on his clear head and methodical ideas.

As he was about leaving--it was fully twelve o'clock, and Mr. Tenant had just thanked him for the twentieth time--Hiram ventured to speak again about his property.

'Dear sir, I feel impelled to speak once more to you. Do listen to me. Do not beggar yourself, and then turn yourself out of doors. Permit me to tell you that you can save this house very easily.'

'I know it, Hiram. I know it. Don't think I have forgotten Emma and you. I have thought it all over. Recollect, I don't blame you. I know it is Emma you are thinking about. But, my dear boy, I can't do it--it would not be _honest_. I can't do it. Never mind, we shall be all the happier for doing right--all the happier, all the happier. I will see you to-morrow. Good night. God bless you.'

They had gradually got to the door, and Hiram, echoing the good night, stepped into the street.

''God bless you,' indeed,' he muttered. 'Soft words butter no parsnips. 'God bless you!' What idle profanity!'

He walked slowly down the street, unconscious that a young face from a window of the second story watched his retreating steps--that a young heart beat painfully as he passed out of sight.

A few moments later Emma's mother entered her room, and found her still at the window.

'Not yet in bed?' she said tenderly. 'I thought you left me because you were too much fatigued to sit up.' She came and put her arms about her daughter's neck and kissed her.

'My dear, I have joyful news for you. Your papa says Hiram takes just the right view of everything--that nothing can be more satisfactory than his whole conversation. He explained all to Hiram, and he declares he never passed a happier evening in his life. Is not that worth coming to tell you of?'

'Indeed, it is, dear mamma.'

'Now you can sleep?'

'Oh yes.'

But she did not sleep, though. It is not so easy to recover from a heart shock such as she had just experienced. No, she did not sleep a moment during the night. Hiram's harsh, repulsive tone and manner haunted her. Oh, _how_ they haunted her! Never before had he exhibited such traits. Whatever the future had in store for her, here was a revelation, sudden, unexpected, _true_.

* * * * *

Honest, simple-minded Mr. Tenant! How he is chattering away to his wife, repeating again and again his encomiums on Hiram, till she is really convinced. Why should she not be?

Meanwhile Hiram has reached his lodgings. He goes through with his usual devotions, and is soon sound asleep. From his composed manner it may reasonably be inferred that he has made up his mind just what course to take.

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