EXILED FROM HOME AND FRIENDS.
The Legislative season drawing to a close, Senator Hamblin made preparations to return home. Determining upon an active and early canvass for the nomination as Gubernatorial candidate, his money had been lavishly expended to win converts, while his large dinner parties—the finest of the season—were attended by leading men and high dignitaries. So successful had been his efforts to make friends for himself, that even when the session closed, and before his canvass began, he was spoken of as the probable choice of his party for the Governor's chair. He therefore concentrated all his energies to accomplish two objects: his own nomination and the marriage of his daughter to Walter Mannis.
When awake these two objects were constantly on his mind; when asleep his dreams were filled with them; when the impending financial hurricane forced itself upon his mind he always reasoned:
"Walter Mannis will make my daughter a magnificent husband, while his fortune will prevent my failure. Once Governor of the State, and I can wield influence enough to extricate myself from the present dilemma."
The session had not been a profitable one to him, for no large jobs that he was interested in came before the Senate; besides, while looking out for his pocket, he had to avoid injuring his chances for the nomination. The session had cost him several thousand dollars more than his salary, which added to his embarrassments, yet his lavish use of money made all believe his wealth increasing.
After the departure of Belle, George Alden became much depressed in spirits. He was anxious to enter the bank at once, but by the advice of Doctor Briar he went, accompanied by his sister, to visit a cousin about two hundred miles distant. The change of air and scene, together with the letters received from his wife, gave him renewed vigor, and his despondency wore away. After a visit of one week he made preparations to return home—his sister, as much in need of a change as himself, was induced to remain a few days longer.
On his return, Alden was welcomed by many friends, who warmly grasped his hand and expressed their gratification; but when, on the following day, he entered the bank, he felt hurt at the cold greeting of the teller. Removing his hat and stepping to his desk, he opened a book, when Sargent said:
"Beg pardon, Mr. Alden, but the president desires to see you in his private office before you resume your duties."
"See me?" said the astonished cashier. "For what?"
"That you will hear, sir, from his own lips."
His voice was full of irony, and the manner in which he spoke caused the cashier to tremble, his pale face indicating agitation.
"Well, I will see him at once," Alden replied, and stepping to the door of the private office, he gently rapped. Receiving a summons, he opened the door and entered the apartment. The president was sitting at his desk. Alden said:
"The teller informed me you desired my presence here."
The president, giving him a cold, meaning look, rose from his seat, turned the key in the lock, then said:
"Yes, he was right. Be seated. I have much to say, and of a painful nature."
George Alden's lips trembled. For a moment neither spoke, the silence being finally broken by the president.
"George, never in my whole life did I have such a painful duty to perform as now falls to my lot. You have served the bank for several years, and during that time have succeeded in winning the confidence of every officer of the institution. You have been trusted implicitly at all times, yet an examination reveals to us that this confidence placed in you has not been deserved."
He paused, when George Alden sprang to his feet, and gasped:
"I—I do not—that is—I cannot comprehend your meaning."
"Be seated, Alden. It almost unmans me; in fact, ever since this affair came to my knowledge my confidence in mankind has been shaken as never before. I see you are overcome; why not confess your crime, and let us see that you are not as depraved as your act would indicate."
"My God! what do you mean? Confess what? At least, inform me of what I am charged."
"Why inform you of what you already know? The abstraction of the funds has been discovered and the worthless bonds are here."
Turning to his desk and opening a drawer, he laid before the astonished cashier five thousand dollars in worthless paper.
"I swear before my Maker," exclaimed George, "that I never saw those bonds before. What conspiracy is this?"
The president affected surprise and answered:
"You act your part well. You little thought, I suppose, that we would discover your crime. The books, however, show that some time in August last year you took five thousand dollars in money from the bank, placing these worthless bonds in the vault as collateral."
George Alden rose to his feet, and lifting his clenched hand above his head, and bringing it down upon the table before him, said:
"It is a lie! If anything is wrong the villain is in the other room."
"Beware, young man, how you talk; the evidence is too strong for you to escape by any means whatever. Here is the entry made in your own handwriting. You cannot deny this. Look here—is that written by any other hand than your own?"
"It—it—it—does look—oh, my God! I never wrote it. Am I dreaming? No, I am the victim of that man who has been at my desk."
Catching hold of a chair to prevent himself from falling, and turning toward the president, in piteous tones he said:
"Mr. Hamblin, certainly you do not think me capable of robbing the bank?"
His answer being only a cold wave of the hand, the distracted man stared at his tormentor; as he did so, anger succeeded amazement, and he exclaimed:
"It is a foul conspiracy, and you are at the bottom of it! You would ruin me to satisfy your own ambition, you scoundrel!"
The president turned white with rage, and said:
"Have a care what you say, young man, or I will hand you over to the courts, where your crime will receive its just punishment. Your assumed innocence cannot stand against proofs so damaging as these books reveal."
"But I never committed the deed. I am innocent of anything so despicable. I a defaulter! God knows I never wronged any man. Oh, why was I brought out of the burning factory!"
His weak condition showed that he had miscalculated his strength, and Senator Hamblin looking into his face, saw its deathly pallor, while the poor man's eyeballs seemed almost ready to burst from their sockets. Much alarmed, he rose hastily, and seizing the hand of George Alden, said:
"I pity you—God knows I do. You are only human, and I will try and help you out of this trouble, for I recognize you have claims upon me."
"Thank you; perhaps I spoke hastily just now, but answer me—do you think I am guilty?"
"The evidence is very strong against you."
"But have you never thought another might have desired to get me out of the way?"
"To whom do you refer?"
The cashier turned, and pointing toward the door opening into the banking department, replied:
"The man who once went back on you."
"No, I cannot believe that—for he pities you, and to him you owe the fact that no one knows of your crime but him and myself."
"My crime? Stop! do not call it that."
"Calm yourself, George, and let us talk of the future. Of course, it is impossible for you to remain in the bank. No one but Sargent and myself knows of the affair. You are without means to make good the missing sum. I have suffered great anguish of mind since I learned of this matter, and am not indifferent to the existing relations between you and my family, which makes my course toward you far different than it would be were our relations otherwise. Beside this, your brave act of last fall entitles you to consideration, therefore I will befriend and help you, if I can."
"Thank you, sir! thank you. I—I am so bewildered, I scarcely know what to do. I cannot realize that I am awake. I know I am innocent of any crime; but I have no adviser."
"Listen a moment," replied the president. "I can and will help you. I will replace the money, and thus make good the defalcation—advance you five hundred dollars beside, and you can quietly leave Cleverdale."
"I leave Cleverdale like a criminal! Confessing by flight that I am a thief! No, sir, I cannot do that."
"You do not realize your situation. At present no one knows of this affair. If you remain in town an excuse must be given for discharging you from the bank, for it will be impossible for you to retain your position here. Reflect a moment. If you desire to remain and face the evidence, I am powerless to prevent you. I am your friend so far as I can be, but should you remain here it will be necessary for me to report this matter to the board of directors. I wish I might do otherwise, but I cannot be placed in the attitude of sacrificing my own honor. I know that warm affection exists between you and my daughter; as the father of her whom you love and respect, I will help you if you will help yourself, but I cannot go beyond those limits and make myself the shielder of an openly apparent criminal. Ah! I know what you would say, but facts exist that we must look at squarely. I offer to help you, but you must leave Cleverdale at once."
The distracted cashier fell into a chair and groaned with agony. Through his mind rapidly passing many thoughts, he fully realized his situation, and knew he was the victim of a base trick, if not a conspiracy, yet he was powerless to prove his innocence. Thoughts of his young wife and sister passing rapidly through his mind, his first and only consideration was to shield them from disgrace. Once he thought of disclosing the secret of his marriage, but remembering the solemn promise made his wife, and knowing that Senator Hamblin was a cold-hearted man, he feared the disclosure might increase their difficulties.
These thoughts running rapidly through his mind, he wished for his wife and sister that he might consult them, but as they were far away, in whatever he did he must act alone, and in his weakened condition he was unfit to decide so serious a matter.
He believed his innocence would be established if he prevented the conspiracy from being made public; although he was a good enough judge of human nature to suspect Hamblin, he was loath to believe that the president desired his ruin. He believed that Hamblin's mind had been poisoned by Sargent, who had really robbed the bank and made a scapegoat of the cashier. At the same time he recognized the fact that Senator Hamblin was in the power of the teller, but desired to get rid of the cashier. The more he thought over the subject the more he saw the utter impossibility of proving his innocence, but concluded to make one more appeal to the president.
"Give me time to think, sir," he replied to Senator Hamblin, when the latter asked for his decision. "Before you drive me from home and friends, make a more thorough examination, for I am confident you will be convinced of my innocence."
"No, that cannot be. This was discovered immediately after your heroic adventure. I was astonished and could not believe you guilty. I have investigated thoroughly, and after due deliberation am convinced in my own mind concerning this matter."
"But Sargent—what does he say?"
"He pleaded for you, as never before man did for another. When it looked as if you must die, I decided to make good the amount and let your grave cover the crime. I am entrusted with the funds of this institution. If you remain in the village I must give a reason for your discharge—if you go away your absence must be attributed to mystery; I shall never follow you. If you can ever repay me the amount I advance, all right; if you cannot, I shall feel that I have protected you as well as the honor of a member of my own household."
Eloquence can make deceit appear as the purest of truths. This gift accounted in part for Senator Hamblin's great power, for he was a natural actor. His persuasive manner and strong language had a perceptible effect upon George Alden, who gave evident signs of weakness of mind and body. Long months of confinement left him powerless to cope with a strong mind, and gradually his will succumbed to that of his persecutor.
He could write to Belle and Fannie, he reasoned, and be advised by them. Yes, he would save himself and friends the disgrace that must inevitably follow the charge he knew to be false, yet was unable to disprove. It would be a terrible ordeal, but he thought it would be only temporary and his vindication must surely follow. As for Belle, who never could doubt his honesty, he could keep her informed of his whereabouts, awaiting her summons to return.
"What is your decision, George? I must know at once," asked the president.
"Give me one day to decide."
"No, you must make your choice at once—the directors will meet this evening, and if you remain here I must tell them of the defalcation, and then I shall be powerless to aid you. I wish it were otherwise, but it is not."
"Well, sir, to shield those I love I accept your offer. I hope I have not made a wrong decision, but my vindication is sure to follow."
Senator Hamblin opened a private drawer, and taking from it five hundred dollars, said:
"Here, George, is money—no, do not push it back—you will require it—you need not take it as a gift, it is only lent you."
At first Alden refused the loan, but the president, pretending to be affected almost to tears, at last succeeded in forcing the money upon him.
The interview ended, Alden left the building and wended his footsteps homeward. Alone in the privacy of his chamber he gave way to his feelings, after which he began making preparations for leaving Cleverdale. Taking up a picture of his wife that lay upon the table before him, he covered it with kisses, and said:
"I am her evil genius, and thus far have only caused her unhappiness. But she shall know all; yes, every word that passed between her father and me shall be written her."
For two hours he sat beside the table, writing. He wrote of the terrible charges against him, and placed on paper every word that passed between the bank president and himself. He asserted his innocence; told of his love, and begged his wife to do everything in her power to clear up the mystery. He read and reread his letter, and added more, telling her of his assumed name and destination. He then wrote another letter, containing substantially the same matter, which he directed to his sister.
Not one word concerning his marriage, or his legal relationship to Belle, appeared in either letter. He was too much absorbed in his situation to think of anything but his flight and the causes that led to it.
At nine o'clock George Alden, bidding farewell to his home, went directly to the post office, mailed his letters, and then turned toward the depot. Meeting many friends, to their inquiries whither he was bound he replied, he was "going for his sister." It was a falsehood, and his conscience troubled him for it.
As the train steamed out of the depot his heart was too full of sadness to speak to any one. Although an innocent man, his sorrows must affect the two noble women whom he believed he was serving by leaving home.
God pity the three! Business reverses may drive a man from home and friends, death may inflict anguish hard to be endured, calumny may cast dark shadows over noble lives, but ambition alone can inflict unmerited misery on honorable natures; and worse than the ambition that causes war—worse because meaner—is the feeling that political necessities engender and stimulate in a man until he can coolly perform deeds more fiendish than Holy Writ anywhere ascribes to Satan. In proof whereof it is only necessary to quote a word or two of Senator Hamblin's soliloquy after Alden left the bank.
"I am the scoundrel.—Well, a man must be one to succeed in politics."