PAGE 6
The Fiery Trial
by
“That is bad, truly,” Arnold rejoined, musingly, after Wilmer had ceased speaking. Then ringing a little hand-bell that stood upon the table, he ordered the waiter, was obeyed the summons, to bring some more brandy. Nothing further was said until the brandy was served, of which both of the young men partook freely.
“What do you intend doing?” Arnold at length asked, looking his friend in the face.
“I wish you would answer that question for me, for it’s more than I can do,” was the gloomy response.
“You must endeavour to rise in the world. It will never do to bring Constance down to the comparatively mean condition in which a clerk with a small salary is compelled to live.”
“That I know, too well. But how am I to prevent it? That is what drives me almost beside myself.”
“You must hit upon some expedient for making money fast.”
“I know of no honest expedients.”
“I think that I do.”
“Name one.”
“Do you know Hardville?”
“Yes.”
“He came as near failure as could possibly be, last week.”
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“And how did he get through?”
“It is the answer to that question which I wish you to consider. He was saved from ruin in the last extremity, and by what some would call a desperate expedient. Your case is a desperate one, and, if you would save yourself, you must resort to desperate expedients, likewise.”
“Name the expedient.”
“Hardville had one thousand dollars to pay, more than he could possibly raise. He tried everywhere, but to no purpose. He could neither borrow nor collect that sum. In a moment of desperation, he put one hundred dollars into his pocket, and went to a regular establishment near here, and staked that sum at play. In two hours he came away with twelve hundred dollars in his pocket, instead of one hundred. And thus he was saved from ruin.”
When Arnold ceased speaking, Wilmer looked him in the face with a steady, stern, half-angry look, but made no reply.
“Try another glass of this brandy,” the former said, pouring out a pretty liberal supply for each. Mechanically, Wilmer put the glass to his lips, and turned off the contents.
“Well, what do you think of that plan?” asked the friend, after each had sat musing for some time.
“I am not a gambler!” was the reply.
“Of course not. But your case, as I said, and as you admit, is a desperate one; and requires desperate remedies. The fact of your going to a regular establishment, and gaining there, in an honourable way, something, as a capital to begin with, does not make you a gambler. After you have got a start, you needn’t go there any more. And all you want is a start. Give you that, and, my word for it, you will make your way in the world with the best of them.”
“O, yes! Give me a start, as you say, and I’ll go ahead as fast as anybody. Give me that start, and I’ll show old Mr. Jackson in a few years that I can count dollars with him all day.”
“Exactly. And that start you must have. Now, how are you going to get it, unless in the way that I suggest?”
“I am not so sure that I can get it in that way.”
“I am, then. Only make the trial. You owe it to your wife to do so. For her sake, then, let me urge you to act promptly and efficiently.”
Thus tempted, while his mind was greatly obscured by the strong potations he had taken, Theodore Wilmer began to waver. It did not seem half so wrong, nor half so disgraceful, to play for money, as it did at first. Finally, he agreed to meet his friend that evening, and get introduced to some one of the many gambling establishments that infest all large cities.
A reaction in his feelings now took place. The elation of mind caused by the brandy, made him confident of success. He saw before him a rapid elevation to wealth and standing in society, and, consequently, a rapid restoration of Constance to the circle in which she had moved.