“I acknowledge,” said he, somewhat reproachfully, “that this conviction is earnestly to be desired. If saves you from the agony that at this moment rends my heart.”
“My dear friend,” replied Frances, in a voice interrupted by deep and solemn emotion,
“religion is not given us for an opiate to be used at a last extremity, merely to lull the sense of pain. The views I express are not new to me; they have been for many years my daily food; they have supported me through hours of bodily anguish; . . . the human frame does not decay as gradually as mine without repeated warnings; . . . they will conduct me through the dark valley of death, when I can no longer lean upon your arm . . . Their efficacy does not merely consist in soothing the bitterness of parting; they have a health giving energy that infuses courage and fortitude amidst the disappointments and evils of life.”
“Henceforth,” exclaimed Mr. Draper,—and at that moment he was sincere,—“every thing of a worldly nature is indifferent to me!”
“All men,” continued Frances, without replying to his exclamation, “are subject to the reverses of life, but particularly men of extensive business connections. They are like the spider in his cobweb dwelling; touch but one of the thousand filaments that compose it, and it vibrates to the centre, and often the fabric is destroyed that has been so skilfully woven. There is a divine teaching in religion, which at
such times restores equanimity to the mind, gives new aspirations, and proves that all in this life is not lost, and nothing for that to come.”
New scenes were opening upon Mr. Draper. It became evident that a dark cloud hung over the business atmosphere. Unexpected failures every day took place. Some attributed the thick-coming evils to the removal of the deposits, others to interrupted currency; some to overtrading, and some to extravagance. Whatever was the cause, the distress was real. Mr. Draper’s cotton became a drug in the market; manufactories stopped, or gave no dividends. Eastern lands lost even their nominal value, and western towns became bankrupt. Ships stood in the harbor, with their sails unbent and masts dismantled. Day laborers looked aghast, not knowing where to earn food for their families. The whirlwind came; it made no distinction of persons. “It smote the four corners of the house,” and the high-minded and honorable fell indiscriminately with the rest. Well may it be asked, Whence came this desolation upon the community? No pestilence visited our land; it
was not the plague; it was not the yellow fever, or cholera. Health was borne on every breeze; the earth yielded her produce, and Peace still dwelt among us.
Mr. Draper felt as if “his mountain stood strong,” yet it began to totter. Frances was ignorant of the state of public affairs. Who would intrude the perplexities of the times into a dying chamber? Softly and gently she sank to rest, her last look of affection beaming upon her husband.
The next morning, the bankruptcy of Mr. Draper was announced. No blame was attached to him, though the sum for which he became insolvent was immense, and swallowed up many a hard-earned fortune. Where was Howard’s little capital?—Gone with the rest—principal and compound interest!