In these bad times Neil was the stay and comfort of the Semple household. He catered for their necessities cheerfully, but his heart was heavy with anxious fear; and when he saw those he loved deprived of any comfort, he reproached himself for the pride which had made him resign offices so necessary for their welfare. This pinch of poverty, which he must conceal, made his whole being shrink with suffering he never named to any one. And besides, there was always that desolate house to pass and repass. How was it that its shut door affected him so painfully? He could only feel this question; he could not answer it. But, though he was not conscious of the fact, never had Neil Semple in all his life been at once so great and so wretched: great because he was able to put his own misery under the feet of those he loved; to forget it in noble smiles that might cheer them and in hopeful words, often invented for their comfort.
One day as he was walking down Broadway he saw a sleigh coming toward him. It was drawn by four black horses blanketed in scarlet, glittering with silver harness and tossing their plumed heads to the music of a thousand bells. As it drew nearer a faint smile came to his lips. He saw the fantastically-dressed driver and footman, and the brilliant mass of color surrounded by minever furs, and he knew it was Madame Jacobus, out to defy any other sleigh to approach her.
He expected only a swift, bright smile in passing, but she stopped, called him imperatively, and then insisted that he should take a seat beside her. "I have caught you at last," she said with a laugh. "It is high time. I asked you to come soon and see me, and you said you would. You have broken your word, sir. But nothing is binding where a woman is concerned; we have to live on broken scraps of all kinds, or perish. You are going to dine with me. I shall take it very ill if you refuse;" then, more soberly, "I have some important things to say to you."
"It will be a great pleasure to dine with you," answered Neil.
"First, however, we will gallop a mile or two, just to show ourselves and get an appetite;" and the grave smile of pleasurable assent which accepted this proposition delighted her. In and out of the city ways they flew, until they reached the Bowery road; there they met the sleighs of generals and governors, dandy officers and wealthy commissioners, and passed them all. And Neil shared the thrill of her triumph and the physical delight of a pace no one could approach. Something like his old expression of satisfied consideration came into his face, and he was alive from head to feet when he reached Madame's fine house in lower Broadway,—a handsome, luxurious house, filled with treasures from every part of the world; no shadow of limitation in anything within it. The lunch, elaborately laid for Madame, was instantly extended for the guest, and Neil marvelled at the dainty liberality of all its arrangements. It was, indeed, well known that the Jacobus wealth was enormous, but here was a room warmed as if wood was of no great value; broiled birds, the finest of wheat bread, the oldest and best of wines.
"You see, I take good care of myself, Neil," said Madame. "I don't wish to die till the war is over. I am resolved to see Troy taken."
"You mean New York."
"I mean New York, of course."
"Do you really think the rebels will take New York?"
"The Greeks got into Troy by trying. I think others can do the same."