“What will you do?” they asked, and she replied:
“I am young and strong. I can get along somehow.”
The coachman and laundress knew they were not necessary, but the cook and housemaid felt that they were, and said:
“We will stay a few days, and matters may brighten.”
Louie thanked them, but knew that things would not brighten. She had talked with her mother, and made her understand how poor they were, and won her consent to sell everything which belonged to them, and pay the small depositors as far as possible. She was reckoning on paper how much the house and furniture and horses and carriage and diamonds and piano and plate would probably bring, when Herbert was announced. The moment she was alone with him Louie began to cry. Then, repressing her tears, she said, “It was kind in you to come. I knew you would, but you know everything is ended now.”
“What do you mean?” Herbert asked, pretending not to understand her.
“I mean,” she said, with a catch between every breath, “I cannot expect you to think of me as you have done, after what has happened. You asked me once if father was a gambler, and I was very angry. Now, I am too hurt to be angry at anyone. I feel as if every nerve was bruised with a sudden blow. We shall never rise above this disgrace, and you must not share it. You cannot. You are free, except as a friend. I do want you for that. Oh, Herbert!”
She broke down a little, then rallied, and her eyes bright with tears looked at the young man, who was silent a moment; then he said, “You mistake me if you think I wish to be free. I do not, but am so hedged in that I cannot do what I ought to do—come out openly as your future husband and stand by you. Father is like a raging lion. I must give him time to cool, and then I’ll tell him the truth, but give you up—never!”
He meant what he said, but he seemed depressed, and his visit was on the whole unsatisfactory, as he had no comfort to offer, except that others had failed besides Mr. Grey and come out all right, and that in any event he should love her always. He had not passed a very happy day, but he did not tell her so, or of the wild stories afloat with regard to the failure and its cause. Speculation and gambling were words freely used, and from being the most popular man in town, Mr. Grey was dragged so low that Louie would have shuddered had she heard all that was said of him. Herbert had heard, but what affected him most was his father’s attitude.
“Sorry? Of course I am. I am always sorry for the dog that is under, and Grey is so far under that he’ll never get up again,” he said to some men who were discussing the failure. “I always guessed he wasn’t square, and now I know it. There’s a family come to town, who lived in Denver. Quiet folks, who mind their own business. They didn’t know Grey personally, but they heard of him as a gambler. Yes, sir—a gambler, who kept a room on purpose for it, where young men went and old ones, too. They weren’t going to blab, but they’ve told it now he’s burst. Yes, sir—a gambler, and has kept it up with other folks’ money, I’ll bet you, and see what he’s got by it.”