Living Too Fast; Or, The Confessions of a Bank Officer

by Oliver Optic

It was galling to me even to think of exposing myself to the fire of Mrs. Oliphant, and I was willing to drown myself rather than suffer the punishment she could inflict with her tongue. It was horrible to anticipate her “I told you so!” It would be the sum total of all miseries to be pitied and advised by her. I must either run away and leave Lilian to her fate, or pay this debt; for I could not think of breasting the storm which would follow an exposure of my financial condition.

The cold sweat stood on my brow as I thought of the situation. But I was naturally hopeful and sanguine. If I had not been so, I should never have incurred the burden of debt which now weighed me down. I began to devise expedients; and Aunt Rachel was always the foremost of expedients with me. The venerable spinster had thirty thousand dollars according to the calculations of Captain Halliard, which was one-third more than I had ever supposed. It was currently reported, and currently believed, that I was to be her heir. It was true that the old lady had never expressed herself to this effect in so many words, but among our friends and relations this theory was fully accepted.

It could make no difference to her if she advanced one or two thousand dollars before she shuffled off her mortal coil. I had so easily persuaded her to let me have a thousand dollars, that I was confident the second thousand would come without much difficulty. If I could only find time to see her, I was satisfied my powers of persuasion would do the rest. I wanted twelve hundred dollars; but this sum would barely cover my pressing liabilities, and I made up my mind that fifteen hundred would come as easily as twelve hundred, and the difference would enable me to meet the cost of the attachment, Lilian’s house-warming, and other little matters which would appear before the next pay-day.

I had entire confidence in my own powers. I could put my hand on my heart, and say that I had always treated Aunt Rachel with kindness and consideration. I had always been a favorite with her, and I was positive that the old lady could not resist my eloquence. In fact, I was as sure of the money as though it had already been in my pocket; and as I considered the subject I became hopeful and happy. But I could not go to Springhaven that night, and in a few hours more that abominable keeper might reveal his presence in my house to the whole neighborhood. Lilian did not understand the matter, and if any of her dear friends called, she might relate to them the wretched story I had written in my note.

The keeper must be sent out of the house as soon as I could get away from the bank. His staying there any longer would certainly ruin me. Whatever else was doubtful, this was plain. Tom Flynn stood near me. He had money, though he had just invested all he had in stocks; but I was sure, if I told him the whole truth, he would help me out of the difficulty even if he had to sell his stocks, and sacrifice his dividends. But it was too humiliating to think of telling him that I had plunged into a sea of debt, and was already struggling for life in the waves.

I did think of calling upon my uncle, but I rejected the suggestion on the instant, for I could not listen to the storm of invectives he would heap upon me; and, besides, he would tell my Aunt Rachel, and thus give her a bad opinion of me. The old lady might disinherit me as a “fast boy.”

Buckleton had offered to take a mortgage on my furniture for security. This seemed to be the most practicable solution of the problem which had yet presented itself. But what was the use of mortgaging the property when I could pay the debt as soon as I had seen Aunt Rachel? Besides, if there was a man on the face of the footstool whom I hated with all my mind, heart and soul, that man was Buckleton. He had induced me to purchase more extensively than I intended by holding out to me the most liberal terms of credit. Now, in less than a month, he was putting the twisters upon me. I regarded him as a treacherous and unfeeling man; one without a soul; one who would sell his friend for sixpence. I despised him from the deepest depths of my heart, and the idea of asking a favor of him, or even of having a word to say to him, was utterly repulsive to me. I could not see him; I could only treat him with cold and dignified contempt.

Perhaps it was not becoming in one situated as I was to put on such airs, or to attempt to save my dignity. I could not help it. I was proud—I wish I had been too proud to do a wrong deed. There appeared to be no resource to which I could turn for immediate relief. Of the fifteen hundred dollars for which I had decided to ask my aunt, I was perfectly sure. If the old lady hesitated, I could tell her that ruin stared me in the face, that I should be compelled to run away, and never show my face about Boston again, if I did not obtain this money. I was satisfied this threat would bring the money, if nothing else did. I could assure her it would be all the same with her. I would pay her the highest rate of interest, and return the principal in a short time. If she wished it, I could give her security on my furniture for the amount.

I was sure of the money from her. Why should I be distressed for the want of it during the few days that must elapse before I could see her? There was no reason, in my estimation. I need not inform the reader that by this time I meditated taking another loan from the bank funds in my keeping. I could borrow eleven hundred more, thus making my total indebtedness to the bank fifteen hundred. A few days, or even a week hence, I should receive the loan from Aunt Rachel, and I could slip the whole amount in the drawer. Then I should be square with the bank. Then no one would have the power to distress me.