But the banker’s thoughts were of Mabel Willey. “She brings me right back to the dear old days,” he sighed—“the dear old days. She is the living image of her mother.”
For once in his life Mr. Fletcher was absent-minded, and the president of a trust company, who came to talk with him upon important business, fancied that he did not evince his usual shrewdness and penetration. They were still engaged in earnest conversation when a piece of news reached them, a startling piece of news, that made them both stare and wonder if their ears told the truth: the Confidence Trust Company had closed its doors!
But Harry, who heard of it at Delmonico’s, was not startled in the least; nay, he rather enjoyed the excitement which quickly followed. He was rich; how could this failure harm him? Ere long other failures were announced, and Wall Street became filled with an excited crowd—so filled that it was well-nigh impossible to move about; crash followed crash, and, judging by men’s faces, you might have thought the end of the world was at hand.
Yet Harry calmly edged his way through the throng, always careful of the pretty rosebud, over which he frequently placed his hand for protection.
But ere this memorable day came to an end Harry grew serious.
“This is going to prove the greatest financial crash our country has known since the Revolution,” said Mr. Fletcher to him in the evening; “and, my son, I may be utterly ruined.”
“And I’ll not be able to go to Paris,” said Harry inwardly. “Oh! what will Kitty say?”
But it was not so much Miss Gibbon as Miss Gibbon’s mother, who took to heart the sudden, unexpected, astonishing change in Mr. Fletcher’s fortune; for the banker, who had been entangled in many speculations, did indeed lose nearly all he possessed—so little had he left that the widow made up her mind that her daughter should not marry his son if she could prevent it.
A few days after the panic Harry called on his betrothed, who was now back from Philadelphia. He meant to tell her the whole sad truth, and afford her an opportunity to break off the engagement, if she wished to do so. In the parlor he found Mrs. Gibbon, who seemed to be expecting him (he had written Kitty a note to say he was coming), and the widow’s countenance chilled his heart as he entered. Harry began by making a commonplace remark about the weather—the equinoctial was raging—then went on to speak of the unhappy change in his father’s fortune, wondering all the while why Kitty did not appear.
“We have heard of it,” answered the other, “and needless to tell what a shock the news gave us. However, such misfortunes will happen—c’est la vie. And now that you have been so frank with me, Mr. Fletcher, let me be equally frank with you, and say that my daughter and I have had a long, serious talk on the subject. Miss Gibbon, you know, has set her heart upon living abroad—indeed, we wish to be back again by the end of the month, and—”