While in this sad dilemma, so distressed in mind that he often walked the floor for half the night, the owner of the other mill, which had been kept steadily at work, offered him two thousand dollars for the whole concern, which had cost him seven thousand. This offer he accepted without a moment’s hesitation. It was the severing of one fold of the horrible serpent that had entwined itself around him, and whose contractions were almost crushing out his life. The next step was to offer the four hundred acres of land for sale. It so happened that there were three large property-holders in D——, each of whom had particular reasons for wanting the tract of land. From this cause a better sale than even Ellison anticipated, was made. Twenty dollars per acre was realized, or eight thousand dollars for the whole tract.
Three thousand dollars canceled the debt to Claxton. About five hundred more went to pay various bills and accounts that were brought in as soon as it was known that Ellison was closing up his business. Of some of these the young man had no kind of recollection; but he paid them. After all was settled, only about six thousand five hundred dollars of the entire property which Ellison had received by his wife remained. In other words, in a little over a year, he had lost one half of it. During the progress of these disasters, Clara, who had never approved of what her husband was doing, avoided saying a word that he could construe into disapproval or disappointment. Still she felt troubled, and could not always keep her brow free from shadows. Whenever they were seen by Ellison, he felt them as smarting rebukes; and his quick fancy gave them a language which they did not really convey.
About two months prior to the closing up of Ellison’s disastrous business in D——, Clara presented her husband with a daughter. The birth of this child was not so glad an event to the father as it would have been a flew months earlier, when, waking or sleeping, his mind was full of golden dreams. From the effects of her illness Clara recovered but slowly. A change in her bodily feelings produced a change in her thoughts, which turned toward her old home and her old friends. From a small beginning the wish to go back grew into an intense desire. She had never been really happy since coming to the West; and now every thing she saw around her but increased her dissatisfied feelings. But as far as it was in her power to do so, all this was concealed from her husband.
One day, it was when Ellison was about making his closing transactions in D——, he spoke of their removal from that city, and mentioned Cincinnati.
“Why not go back to Philadelphia?” said Clara, with an eagerness that showed how much her heart was in her words. She spoke from an impulse, and therefore with a fuller exhibition of her real feelings than would otherwise have been the case.
“I’d rather hang myself!” was the equally impulsive and much less guarded answer of Ellison.
The effect of this rude, in fact, unfeeling reply, was a gush of tears, that flowed long and silently. The heart of Ellison smote him for the unkindly spoken words. But they had found an utterance, and he felt that an attempt to recall them would be of no use.
For the space of full half an hour the unhappy young man, and his equally unhappy wife, sat silent and almost motionless, yet their thoughts were busy all the while. What passed in the mind of Ellison will hereafter appear.
“We will go back, Clara,” he at length said, breaking the oppressive stillness of the apartment in which they sat, and speaking in a voice of affectionate sympathy. “Forgive me that I thought too much of myself. I know it must be a hard trial for you—this separation from all your early associations and most cherished friends. I hoped to make this visit to the West one of prosperity to us both. But I have erred, and a heart-crushing disaster has been the result. I will atone for this error in the future as best I can.”
“Alfred! Alfred! do not speak so,” said Clara, lifting her eyes from the floor. Tears were again upon her cheeks. “All has been done for the best. Do not think of the past. Do not reproach yourself. We have still something left, and it is enough, and more than enough, to sustain us until your own professional efforts meet with their deserved reward. Let us go to Cincinnati, or any where else that you may think best.”