Part 133 (1/2)

”I--fear that I am not well,” replied Ishmael, in a hollow voice, and with a haggard smile.

”What is it? Only exhaustion, I hope? You have been working too hard, and you never even left the courtroom to take any refreshments to-day.

You are too much in earnest, my young friend. You take too much pains.

You apply yourself too closely. Why, bless my life, you could floor us all any day with half the trouble! But you must always use a trip-hammer to drive tin tacks. Take my arm, and let us go and get something.”

And the stout lawyer drew the young man's arm within his own and led him to a restaurant that was kept on the same floor for the convenience of the courts and their officers and other habitues of the City Hall.

Wiseman called for the best old Otard brandy, and poured out half a tumblerful, and offered it to Ishmael. It was a dose that might have been swallowed with impunity by a seasoned old toper like Wiseman; but certainly not by an abstinent young man like Ishmael, who, yielding to the fatal impulse to get rid of present suffering by any means, at any cost, or any risk, took the tumbler and swallowed the brandy.

Ah, Heaven have mercy on the sorely-tried and tempted!

This was only the third gla.s.s of alcoholic stimulants that Ishmael had ever taken in the whole course of his life.

On the first occasion, the day of Claudia's betrothal, the gla.s.s had been placed in his hand and urged upon his acceptance by his honored old friend, Judge Merlin.

On the second occasion, the morning of this day, of Claudia's marriage, the gla.s.s had also been offered him by Judge Merlin.

And on the third occasion, this afternoon of the terrible day of trial and suffering, it was placed to his lips by the respectable old lawyer, Wiseman.

Alas! alas!

On the first occasion Ishmael had protested long before he yielded; on the second he had hesitated a little while; but on the third he took the offered gla.s.s and drank the brandy without an instant's doubt or pause.

Lord, be pitiful!

And oh, Nora, fly down from heaven on wings of love and watch over your son and save him--from his friends!--lest he fall into deeper depths than any from which he has so n.o.bly struggled forth. For he is suffering, tempted, and human! And there never lived but one perfect man, and he was the Son of G.o.d.

”Well?” said old Wiseman as he received the gla.s.s from Ishmael's hand and sat it down.

”I thank you; it has done me good; I feel much better; you are very kind,” said Ishmael.

”I wish you would really think so, and go into partners.h.i.+p with me. My business is very heavy--much more than I can manage alone, now that I am growing old and stout; and I must have somebody, and I would rather have you than anyone else. You would succeed to the whole business after my death, you know.”

”Thank you; your offer is very flattering. I will think it over, and talk with you on some future occasion. Now I feel that I must return home, while I have strength to do so,” replied Ishmael.

”Very well, then, my dear fellow, I will let you off.”

And they shook hands and parted.

Ishmael, feeling soothed, strengthened, and exhilarated, set off to walk home. But this feeling gradually pa.s.sed off, giving place to a weakness, heaviness, and feverishness, that warned him he was in no state to appear at judge Merlin's dinner table.

So when he approached the house he opened a little side gate leading into the back grounds, and strayed into the shrubbery, feeling every minute more feverish, heavy, and drowsy.

At last he strayed into an arbor, quite at the bottom of the shrubberies, where he sank down upon the circular bench and fell into a deep sleep.

Meanwhile up at the house changes had taken place. The wedding guests had all departed. The festive garments had had been laid away. The decorated dining room had been shut up. The household had returned to its usual sober aspect, and the plain family dinner was laid in the little breakfast parlor. But the house was very sad and silent and lonely because its queen was gone. At the usual dinner-hour, six o'clock, the family a.s.sembled at the table.

”Where is Ishmael, uncle?” inquired Beatrice.