To stir men’s blood. I only speak right on.”
Shakspeare.
Now during the first day of Markham’s visit to his parents no progress had been made in the matter of business, for as yet the answers of the creditors had not been received. The elder Markham had sent off by the same post the letter to his son, and those which were destined for his creditors. That which had been sent to his son was first answered, as we have stated.
On the morning, therefore, after the young man’s arrival, the coming of the postman was anxiously looked for by all three. The father, indeed, seemed more and more dejected; and ever and anon, instead of taking notice of his wife and son, he muttered to himself, “They won’t accept a composition; I am sure they won’t; it was foolish of me to expect it.”
This was at the breakfast-table; and when either his wife or son urged him to partake of the morning meal, he coldly said, “It is not mine, it belongs to my creditors.” That was very true; but it was distressing to his family to hear such language; and that not merely because it was true, but because it indicated a bitterness of soul in him who used it.
No answer was made; for neither mother nor son had steadiness enough to trust themselves to speak to one who was under the influence of such distressful feelings. They sat at the breakfast-table beyond their usual time, and the postman brought no letters. The elder Markham looked wildly and distractedly, and he said, “Pray give me the letters; let me know the worst. I can very well bear it.” But when they told him that no letters were arrived, he smiled incredulously, and replied, “It is very kind and considerate of you, that you will break the matter to me gradually.”
“Indeed, my dear,” replied Mrs. Markham, “there are no letters this morning.”
“Then they have detained the letters in the shop,” said Mr. Markham; “I will go and fetch them.”
He rose for the purpose, but he presently returned; and just as he was at the door of the apartment, he hastily came back again, and resuming his seat, he covered his face with his hands, and said, in a melancholy under tone, “Oh! I can never show my face there again.”
The poor man’s distress now increased to a degree that rendered it almost as painful to witness as to bear. It is indeed hardly to be imagined to what excess it might have proceeded, had it not been for an interruption of a peculiar and unexpected nature. This was the appearance of the principal creditor, whose high opinion of Mr. Markham’s integrity would not permit him to satisfy himself with a mere letter of reply to the communication which he had received from the embarrassed tradesman.