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Updated: May 1, 2025
Wilmer Voss, speaking to his wife, "you must get to bed. It is past twelve o'clock, and you cannot bear this loss of rest and sleep. It may throw you all back again." The woman addressed was sitting in a large easychair with a shawl drawn closely about her person. She had the pale, shrunken face and large, bright eyes of a confirmed invalid.
Wilmer looked at him for some moments, vainly attempting to reply, his face exhibiting the most painful emotions finally, he laid his head upon the desk without a word, and gave way to tears. It was a weakness, but he was not then superior to it. "How much do you owe for rent?" "Forty dollars." "Forty dollars! And is it for this sum alone that your furniture has been taken?"
He, accordingly, left the large pile of iron which he had commenced assorting, and entered the counting-room. He felt a great degree of hesitation, but strove to keep it down, while he summoned up resolution to utter distinctly and mildly his request. The man of iron was busy over his bill-book when Wilmer sought his presence, and looked up with a stern aspect.
"Try another glass of this brandy," the former said, pouring out a pretty liberal supply for each. Mechanically, Wilmer put the glass to his lips, and turned off the contents. "Well, what do you think of that plan?" asked the friend, after each had sat musing for some time. "I am not a gambler!" was the reply. "Of course not.
But the milder airs had no kind effect upon the fast sinking frame of her husband. He was rapidly going down to the grave, his last hours embittered by the sight of his wife and children suffering before him. During the month of August, Wilmer declined so fast, and needed such constant attention, that his wife could find but little time to devote to her needle.
"It isn't bad," said Marshby, unconsciously straightening. "Go ahead, Jerome. Turn us all into field-marshals." "Not all," objected Wilmer, seeming to dash his brush at the canvas with the large carelessness that promised his best work. "The jobs wouldn't go round. But I don't feel the worse for it when I see the recruity stepping out, promotion in his eye."
Then his left hand dived into his waistcoat pocket and, taking the place of his right, thrust three sovereigns into Wilmer's palm. "For the kiddies," said he. Wilmer looked at the coins in his palm, and then at Paul, and the tears spurted. "I can't, my boy. You must be as broke as any of us you half salary no, my boy, I can't. I'm old enough to be your father.
Their uniform kindness towards me seemed a sure guarantee for this aid. But the result has been, not only their estrangement from me, but my dismissal from their service. And now, what to do, or where to turn myself, I do not know. Really I feel desperate!" "That is bad, truly," Arnold rejoined, musingly, after Wilmer had ceased speaking.
The time was one of great commercial pressure, and many long-established houses were forced to yield; others were driven to great curtailment of expenses. The consequence was that few were employing clerks, and many dispensing with their services. Under the circumstances, Wilmer found it impossible to obtain employment.
Regularly did the lovers meet, about once every week, at this friend's; and, encouraged by her, they finally took the hazardous and decisive step of getting married clandestinely. Three days after this event, Wilmer entered the store of the merchants in whose service he had been for years, for the purpose of resuming his regular duties which had been briefly interrupted.
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