THE ATTEMPTED SUICIDE.
Over a year had elapsed since the supposed death of George Alden. During that time Senator Hamblin had become not only changed in manner, habits, and disposition, but lines indicative of approaching age had appeared upon his brow and features. Instead of forgetting his responsibility for the supposed death of George Alden, he steadily reproached himself for his villainy.
His daughter carried her load of sorrow until it almost broke her heart. Losing all interest in worldly matters, despondency eclipsed the brilliancy and self-will that had always been characteristic of her. Fannie Alden passed many hours with her, although resisting the persistent efforts of Senator Hamblin, his wife, and daughter to induce her to become an inmate of the mansion.
She was a cheering comforter, for having arrived at an age where she could look back upon many sad and unhappy hours, she had become nerved to bear affliction with better grace than the young wife.
The inroads of grief upon Belle's health caused much alarm, her friends fearing she would not survive the shock. Her father, watching the gradual decline, and knowing he was the cause of all her trouble, lost all desire for public advancement. The efforts of his political friends to arouse and make him renew his canvass for the gubernatorial nomination proved futile. Attributing his physical condition to overwork and excitement, his business associates, ignorant of the true cause, urged him to temporarily lay aside all care and seek rest. His financial ruin appeared more imminent than before, and as the crisis seemed close at hand, peace of mind was impossible.
Still believing Mannis a rich man, and seeing no other way to extricate himself from financial embarrassment, he secretly hoped to induce Belle to become the young Congressman's wife. His critical situation had been sedulously kept from his wife and daughter, but he now realized it could not be a secret much longer. Renewing his notes often, and asking friends for re-endorsements, he began to be questioned. He passed many hours in his private office trying to devise a way out of his difficulties, but all without success. Since Sargent had become cashier of the bank, Senator Hamblin knew his situation must be known to at least one man, yet the cashier never uttered a word on the subject. Aware that the president was using the funds of the institution, Sargent cared not so long as the directors possessed such confidence in the presiding officer that they never looked into the affairs of the bank. The president was in full command, so the cashier never talked.
When fully convinced that the calamity could not be averted, Senator Hamblin determined to inform his wife and daughter of his condition. Belle's gradually declining health alarmed him, and he made himself believe that if prevailed upon to marry she might be spared. One day, upon leaving the dinner-table, he requested the presence of both ladies in his private room, and when they were seated he said:
"What I have to say will undoubtedly surprise you both. For many years, enjoying the station money gives, we have been called the wealthiest family in the county. For a long time everything I touched turned to gold, and you, my dear wife and daughter, have never known lack of luxuries. Freely giving to charity, my means have been devoted toward the advancement of the community. Foolishly believing there was no end to my success, in an evil moment I stepped aside from legitimate business, and entered the political arena. I now curse the day the temptation of power and station in public life allured me from my path, for that prize once grasped only leads one farther away from friends. It is the old, old story, yet man never considers the nine hundred and ninety-nine engulfed in the maelstrom, without believing that he can be the thousandth man to overcome all obstacles and attain the desires of his heart. What fatal error!"
"Husband, what do you mean?" Mrs. Hamblin asked.
Pausing a moment to overcome his emotion, the Senator continued:
"Engrossed in public affairs, I have forgotten my duty to you both, and spent thousands of dollars to gratify my ambition. I have neglected vast business interests and suffered heavy losses. I have been blind—yes, mad! Now I must pay the penalty. Oh, pity me, help me! For a year past the torments of hell have been mine, and to-day—oh, I can hardly speak the words—to-day I am—am bankrupt."
"Bankrupt!" exclaimed both women, rising.
"Yes, I have said it; bankrupt! Oh, I knew it would surprise you. No one else knows of it. The world calls me a millionaire, but my estate and business would not pay my debts."
"Darius," quietly but feelingly spoke Mrs. Hamblin, "why have you kept us in ignorance of this? We could have helped you instead of increasing your burden."
"I know it; but I have been a coward, walking about for a year vainly hoping a miracle would extricate me. My poor child's troubled face constantly before me, and my remorse at the crime of sending off her husband, have almost made me take my own life. My daily actions have been a lie, and the time is not far distant when I must be branded a villain—for all men failing are so called."
"Papa," said Belle, gently putting her arms about his neck, "I can do something to help you, and will get well for your sake. I have nothing to live for but you, dear mamma, and brother Geordie—all else that my heart yearns for lies in yonder graveyard. Fannie Alden supports herself, and why cannot I?"
"My dear daughter, I little deserve this from you, whom I have caused so much misery. Had it not been for my wife and children, I should not have hesitated crossing the border of eternity; but meditating such an act, the faces of my loved ones rising before me seemed to say: 'Would you leave us to bear the disgrace alone?' My heart has been full of secret woe, and now public humiliation and disgrace must be added."
Hiding his face, for a few moments emotion overwhelmed him, and it required the combined efforts of wife and daughter to calm his agitation. For a long time he talked of his condition. He told the two women every detail of his affairs, sorrowfully confessing his own responsibility in the matter; but withholding, of course, his part in the conspiracy against George Alden.
"I have done it," he said. "No one is to blame but myself. Had I turned a deaf ear to fame, I should not now be standing on the verge of bankruptcy."
"Is there no way to extricate yourself?" asked his wife.
"I fear not, for I owe large sums of borrowed money which must be paid. People with funds lying idle have forced their hard-earned savings upon me. With unbounded credit I can raise large sums of money, but that cancer, interest, is eating the vitals of my principal. I have much real estate—enough, in fact, if advantageously disposed of, to relieve me; but what will a forced sale return? Had I another fortune to assist, I could prevent the impending disaster, and, in time, extricate myself from my present dilemma."
"Is there not a way to do what you mention?" asked Belle.
"There might be—but no—" he said, suddenly checking himself, "no—not now—I cannot hope for that."
He spoke hesitatingly, as if revolving in his mind a method whereby he could receive help. His companions noticing this, Belle said:
"Be frank with us, and if there is any possible way to assist you, let us know; perhaps we can advise you."
Gazing intently upon his daughter, he replied:
"Yes, there is one way out of this dilemma, and only one. But do not ask me now, for I cannot expect aid in that direction—no, it would be asking too much of my loved one."
"Tell us to what you refer; if in our power to assist, the danger might be averted."
Like a drowning man catching at straws, he seemed to be filled with hope of rescue; hesitating a moment, he said:
"You, my daughter, can save me."
The bewildered girl started with surprise.
"I can save you? How?"
"By becoming the wife of Walter Mannis."
The unexpected words went with crushing effect to the daughter's heart, causing her to sink into a chair. Choking spasmodically for a moment, she regained her feet, and replied:
"Marry him? No, I would die, beg, or even starve, before becoming his wife. Oh, you know not what you ask."
The look of partial joy that had gathered upon the Senator's face was followed by one of deep despair. He became very pale, and clasping both hands across his head, sighed heavily.
"No, that was too much to expect. I cannot blame you, Belle; but all is lost. We will say no more about it now. Let the crisis come; and we must take the consequences, be they what they may," and imprinting a kiss upon the foreheads of both wife and daughter, he left the room.
Belle, greatly agitated, when alone with her mother indulged in a paroxysm of tears. Sadly grieved at her father's distress, his wish that she should marry Walter Mannis almost overpowered her, for, believing Mannis indirectly to blame for the death of her husband, the mention of his name by her father seemed almost a crime.
"To think that papa desires me to marry him!" she said. "Were I to comply, his victim would rise from the grave to haunt me. I wish I could prevent the calamity. Poor papa! He is greatly overcome, and I fear his failure will kill him. But marriage—and with Mannis—oh!"
In the mean time Senator Hamblin, entering his own apartment, threw himself into a chair, and muttered, "Lost—all is lost! Ruin irretrievable confronts me. The last hope is gone. I cannot blame Belle. The poor girl has greater cause than she knows for refusing to marry Mannis, but the act would have saved me. I cannot remain to face the disgrace of failure. It is only a step across the chasm, and I will take it."
Taking his pen he wrote hastily the following letter:
"My Dear Wife AND Daughter: Forgive and pity your poor distracted husband and father. I am lost; financial ruin cannot be averted. When this meets your eyes, I shall have solved the problem of eternity. Deeply wronging you both, I have also the death of my daughter's husband to account for before the throne of God. I cannot longer bear the burden laid upon me by my mad and insatiable ambition. I charge you both to caution my boy against following in the footsteps of his father. Politics and ambition have held out tempting promises to me, which have never been fulfilled. I have used honorable public positions for my own selfish ends. Instead of assisting at making this the best government in the world of nations, my efforts have been joined with men laboring to attain place and emolument by overthrowing honesty. By precept and example I have done my share in making my country the reverse of that intended by its founders. Educate my boy to rise above the demoralizing ways of modern politicians. Impress upon his mind the necessity of joining with better men than his father in establishing this republic upon a foundation that will assure its perpetuity. Make him understand that politics should only be avoided when it leads men to seek company that destroys self-respect and corrupts honest purpose. Have him understand that 'nothing is right in politics that is wrong in any other field of life.' I lay great stress on this now, because I feel my duty in this direction has been sinfully neglected.
"Poor Belle! Had I been mindful of your happiness, you would not have been a victim to my mad ambition. The house and grounds were deeded to you, my wife, several years since for your maintenance and that of your children. You must not part with the property without securing a price commensurate with its value. Think of me occasionally, and remember me as the loving companion and father I was before I became infatuated with the demon who has ruined so many.
"Farewell forever.
"Your Distracted Husband AND Father."
Enclosing the letter in an envelope, he addressed it "To my Wife and Daughter," and placed it where it would be seen. With a sad face he then proceeded to arrange his papers and carefully prepare a schedule containing a full inventory of his indebtedness. Then he arose, and taking a hasty survey of the room, said:
"Farewell to all my sorrows and happiness!"
Then he left the house, going toward the barn. Passing through the yard where Geordie was at play, he went to him, and putting his arms about the little fellow, said:
"My son, always be a good boy and obey your mother and sister."
As he kissed him Geordie said:
"Yes, Papa; I will try and be good to them, and to you too."
Senator Hamblin entered the barn, and looking about saw he was alone. Taking a knife from his pocket and cutting a piece from a coil of rope upon the floor, he fastened it to a beam overhead, and placing a box underneath measured the length necessary to reach his neck. Falling upon his knees he poured forth his voice to God in prayer. Yes, for the first time in many years, Senator Hamblin prayed. But the act did not seem to do him any good, for when he had finished he mounted the box, and adjusted the rope about his neck; his face was overspread with the pallor of death and his eyes were suffused with tears.
"God forgive me," he said, and as he kicked away the box it went crashing through the window near him.
The noise reaching the ears of Geordie, in an instant the boy stood in the doorway. One glance toward the writhing form suspended in mid-air, and the little fellow ran with lightning speed toward the house, meeting his mother and sister coming toward him.
"Papa! quick! in the barn!" he exclaimed.
Mother and daughter, not waiting for further information, flew wildly in the direction indicated, and entering the barn, both paused as if paralyzed, Mrs. Hamblin catching the door for support. Belle quickly ran and, seizing the quivering body in her arms, cried to her mother:
"Quick! quick! Cut the rope, for he is not dead." Mrs. Hamblin, pulling the knife from the beam where her husband had placed it, a quick stroke severed the rope, and the limp form fell to the floor. Movements of hands and limbs showed that life still remained, and the two women quickly began the work of restoring consciousness. After five minutes they observed signs of returning life. Soon the Senator opened his eyes, and seeing the women bending over him, he said:
"Why, why did you do this? I care not to live."
Half an hour later he lay upon the bed in his own room, his wife and daughter standing over him, administering to his comfort, for he was utterly prostrated.
"Why, oh, why did you cross my purpose?" he said. "I am lost. Belle destroyed my last hope. But I do not blame her."
His daughter, engaged bathing his temples, said:
"Oh, Papa, do you wish to leave us?"
"No! but I cannot remain and face this disgrace. No! I must go, I must go unless, unless—" He hesitated.
"Unless what?" quickly interrupted Belle.
"Unless you save me by marrying Walter Mannis," he said.
Belle, looking into his pale face and blood-shot eyes, fully realized his broken-down condition. Finding that there was but one hope of saving his life, a deep sigh escaped her, and she gasped:
"Well—I—I—I will sacrifice myself—I will—marry Mr. Mannis," and she fell fainting across the form of her father.