CHAPTER XXXI.
NEW ORLEANS, 10 A.M., OCT. 2D.
Our hero could scarcely realize that he was at last in New Orleans. That New Orleans, so pregnant with his hopes and attainings. New Orleans, his thought by day and dream by night. New Orleans, the first accomplishment of his life!
Yet so it was. He was safely landed in New Orleans, and it was the morning of the second of October!
"What time is it?" he asked, as he sprang on shore.
"Nine o'clock," replied a gentleman looking at his watch.
Nine o'clock! And atteno'clock Smythe would be awaiting his telegram in New York City!
Twenty thousand dollars, fairly won! And then came a dull, dead pain that nipped his exultations. What if it were twenty times twenty thousand dollars? The money could not give him happiness. He had lost what money could not recover. What was the vile stuff but a tantalization? An allurement that promised everything and was empty of fulfillments?
Hold on, friend Ben, don't speak disrespectfully of money. Money is the lever that moves the world, and love the fulcrum it rests upon. Had you a fortune would not the lady of your affections be within your reach? Is she notsellingherself to Arthur Blackoat, and would she not much rather effect the sale with you? The sale is to be a sacrifice, Ben, a sacrifice—the highest bidder takes her.
Then a great flash of hope illuminated his countenance. She had confessed she loved him. Aye, had given herself to him, and he had sacrificed her himself on the altar of Mammon for the good of her mother and that little bed-ridden sister. But circumstances were altered. He was now possessed of a small fortune. Twenty thousand dollars awaited his call in New York City, while four hundred, had, per agreement, been sent to a correspondent at New Orleans and was now subject to his order. Twenty thousand four hundred dollars! It was quite a sum of money. Twenty thousand dollars, judiciously invested, would afford an income of twelve or fifteen hundred dollars per annum. Enough for two persons to live quite comfortably on. He would give the whole of it to Bertha's mother and sister. He would present them with the twenty thousand dollars, and keeping the four hundred for a start in life, marry the girl he loved and be happy.
Remember, gentle reader, Ben was young and sanguine, andunmarried. His mother-in-law, at the time, was in embryo. We older heads look at these things differently.
What a wonderful change the face of nature wore after these bright hopes and satisfactory intentions had possession of him. Everything was light, airy, joyous, happy. He could fairly have shouted aloud in the fullness of his heart, and offered up many a mental thanksgiving as he hurried up Canal Street. Had his feelings not been so surcharged with resurrected hopes he might have noticed that he was on the handsomest thoroughfare in the world. A street that has not its equal in any city on the globe. The beauties of architecture that line it are not prominent (with the exception of one of the most ornate pieces of iron architecture in America, that stood at the foot of it and in the very centre of the street. It is now demolished, but a few years ago was one of the curiosities of the city.) It is not the buildings that make Canal Street the thing of beauty it is, but it is the great, wide picturesque street itself, with its tramways and grass-plots and trees andbanquettesin the very centre of it, and its broad roadways on each side. A noble artery for the great city.
But Ben cared little about streets or cities just then. His mind and body were alive with new projects for a gladsome future. He passed a jeweller's and learned the time. It was exactly twenty-five minutes past nine. The time was exact. Regulated to a second from the observatory at Washington daily. In five minutes more he had turned down St. Charles Street and entered the rotunda of the St. Charles hotel. He quivered with suppressed excitement as he wrote:
"New Orleans, Oct. 2d, 9.30 A.M., St. Charles Hotel."I am here. Answer immediately."Benjamin Cleveland."To Algernon Smythe, Esq., Park Row, New York City."
"New Orleans, Oct. 2d, 9.30 A.M., St. Charles Hotel.
"I am here. Answer immediately.
"Benjamin Cleveland.
"To Algernon Smythe, Esq., Park Row, New York City."
When he had handed this to the operator, and seen him tick it off upon his wonderful little instrument, he felt quieter, and sat down to await the reply.
We will not attempt to depict Ben's thoughts as he sat there. Suffice it for us to know that they were one great swell of triumph, and the pictures of future happiness that floated before his fancy were gorgeous with crimson and gold. Just as the hands of the clock announced ten o'clock, the operator called to him, and with the remark that the matter had been expeditiously attended to, handed him the following dispatch:
"Park Row, New York City, }October 2d, 10.45 A.M. }"Dear boy, we all sympathize with you. Your dispatch came to hand fifteen minutes ago. You have lost by thirty minutes. Money has been paid to Smythe."John Hough, stake-holder."Augustus Wasson, referee."
"Park Row, New York City, }October 2d, 10.45 A.M. }
"Dear boy, we all sympathize with you. Your dispatch came to hand fifteen minutes ago. You have lost by thirty minutes. Money has been paid to Smythe.
"John Hough, stake-holder."Augustus Wasson, referee."
Ben read it, and reread it, and read it over and over again. The date caught his eye, "10.45 A.M." He looked at the clock in the rotunda; it was but ten o'clock and five minutes then. He called the operator's attention to it.
"Oh, yes; you see the difference between New York and New Orleans time is sixty-two minutes. When it is nine-thirtyhere, it is a little pastten-thirty there. A great many people who don't think of this, are surprised to receive dispatches ahead of time, as they think. And it's laughable to see their astonishment sometimes." And the clerk laughed in verification of it.
But Ben heard him not. His mind was in a whirl. His body trembled. His legs refused their support and he would have fallen to the floor had not an attendant caught him.
"You 'pears to be sick, sah. Bettah take some fresh air, sah."
"Lost! Lost! Lost!" he cried. "EverythingLost!"