“Why, what in the world is the matter, Wilmer?” his friend replied to this.  “You look as if you had buried instead of married a wife.  But come, you want a glass of something to revive you.  Let us step in here.  I am a little dry myself.”

Without hesitation or reply, Wilmer entered a drinking-house, with the young man, where they retired to a box, and ordered brandy and water.  After this had been taken in silence, the friend, whose name was Wilbert Arnold, said—­

“The state of mind in which I find you, Theodore, surprises and pains me greatly.  If it is not trespassing too far upon private matters, I should like very much to know the reason.  I ask, because I feel now, and always have felt, much interest in you.”

It was some time before Wilmer replied to this.  At length, he said—­

“The cause of my present state of mind is of such recent occurrence, and I have become so bewildered in consequence of it, that I can scarcely rally my thoughts sufficiently to reply to your kind inquiries.  Suffice it to say, that, in consequence, I presume, of my having run off with Mr. Jackson’s daughter, I have lost a good situation, and the best of friends.  I am, therefore, thrown upon the world at this very crisis, like a sailor cast upon the ocean, with but a plank to sustain himself, and keep his head above the waves.  When I married Miss Jackson, it was with the resolution to rise rapidly, and show to the world that she had not chosen thoughtlessly.  Of course, I expected the aid of Rensselaer, Wykoff & Co.  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.  Then ringing a little hand-bell that stood upon the table, he ordered the waiter, was obeyed the summons, to bring some more brandy.  Nothing further was said until the brandy was served, of which both of the young men partook freely.

“What do you intend doing?” Arnold at length asked, looking his friend in the face.

“I wish you would answer that question for me, for it’s more than I can do,” was the gloomy response.

“You must endeavour to rise in the world.  It will never do to bring Constance down to the comparatively mean condition in which a clerk with a small salary is compelled to live.”

“That I know, too well.  But how am I to prevent it?  That is what drives me almost beside myself.”

“You must hit upon some expedient for making money fast.”

“I know of no honest expedients.”

“I think that I do.”

“Name one.”

“Do you know Hardville?”

“Yes.”

“He came as near failure as could possibly be, last week.”

“He did?”