_ FROM that period, Mr. Markland not only avoided all conference with
his wife touching their daughter's relation to Mr. Lyon, but became
so deeply absorbed in business matters, that he gave little earnest
thought to the subject. As the new interests in which he was
involved grew into larger and larger importance, all things else
dwindled comparatively.
At the end of six months he was so changed that, even to his own
family, he was scarcely like the same individual. All the time he
appeared thinking intensely. As to "Woodbine Lodge," its beauties no
longer fell into thought or perception. The charming landscape
spread itself wooingly before him, but he saw nothing of its varied
attractions. Far away, fixing his inward gaze with the fascination
of a serpent's eye, was the grand result of his new enterprise, and
all else was obscured by the brightness of a vortex toward which he
was moving in swiftly-closing circles. Already two-thirds of his
handsome fortune was embarked in this new scheme, that was still
growing in magnitude, and still, like the horse-leech, crying "Give!
give!" All that now remained was "Woodbine Lodge," valued at over
twenty-five thousand dollars. This property he determined to leave
untouched. But new calls for funds were constantly being made by Mr.
Fenwick, backed by the most flattering reports from Mr. Lyon and his
associates in Central America, and at last the question of selling
or heavily mortgaging the "Lodge" had to be considered. The latter
alternative was adopted, and the sum of fifteen thousand dollars
raised, and thrown, with a kind of desperation, into the whirlpool
which had already swallowed up nearly the whole of his fortune.
With this sum in his hands, Mr. Markland went to New York. He found
the Company's agent, Mr. Fenwick, as full of encouraging words and
sanguine anticipations as ever.
"The prize is just within our grasp," said he, in answer to some
close inquiries of Markland. "There has been a most vigorous
prosecution of the works, and a more rapid absorption of capital, in
consequence, than was anticipated; but, as you have clearly seen,
this is far better than the snail-like progress at which affairs
were moving when Mr. Lyon reached the ground. Results which will now
crown our efforts in a few months, would scarcely have been reached
in as many years."
"How soon may we reasonably hope for returns?" asked Mr. Markland,
with more concern in his voice than he meant to express.
"In a few months," was answered.
"In two, three, or four months?"
"It is difficult to fix an exact period," said Mr. Fenwick,
evasively. "You know how far the works have progressed, and what
they were doing at the latest dates."
"There ought to be handsome returns in less than six months."
"And will be, no doubt," replied the agent.
"There _must_ be," said Mr. Markland, betraying some excitement.
Mr. Fenwick looked at him earnestly, and with a slight manifestation
of surprise.
"The assessments have been larger and more frequent than was
anticipated. I did not intend embarking more than twenty thousand
dollars in the beginning, and already some sixty thousand have been
absorbed."
"To return you that sum, twice told, in less than a year, besides
giving you a position of power and influence that the richest
capitalist in New York might envy."
And, enlarging on this theme, Fenwick, as on former occasions,
presented to the imagination of Mr. Markland such a brilliant series
of achievements, that the latter was elevated into the old state of
confidence, and saw the golden harvest he was to reap already
bending to the sickle.
Twice had Markland proposed to visit the scene of the Company's
operations, and as often had Mr. Fenwick diverted his thoughts from
that direction. He again declared his purpose to go out at an early
date.
"We cannot spare you from our councils at home," said Mr. Fenwick,
pleasantly, yet with evident earnestness.
"Oh, yes, you can," was promptly answered. "I do not find myself of
as much use as I desire to be. The direction at this point is in
good enough hands, and can do without my presence. It is at the
chief point of operations that I may be of most use, and thither I
shall proceed."
"We will talk more about that another time," said Mr. Fenwick. "Now
we must discuss the question of ways and means. There will yet be
many thousand dollars to provide."
"Beyond my present investment, _I_ can advance nothing," said Mr.
Markland, seriously.
"It will not be necessary," replied Mr. Fenwick. "The credit of the
Company--that is, of those in this and other cities, including
yourself, who belong to the Company, and have the chief management
of its affairs--is good for all we shall need."
"I am rather disappointed," said Markland, "at the small advances
made, so far, from the other side of the Atlantic. They ought to
have been far heavier. We have borne more than our share of the
burden."
"So I have written, and expect good remittances by next steamers."
"How much?"
"Forty or fifty thousand dollars at least."
"Suppose the money does not come?"
"I will suppose nothing of the kind. It must and will come."
"You and I have both lived long enough in the world," said Markland,
"to know that our wills cannot always produce in others the actions
we desire."
"True enough. But there are wills on the other side of the Atlantic
as well as here, and wills acting in concert with ours. Have no
concern on this head; the English advances will be along in good
season. In the mean time, if more money is wanted, our credit is
good to almost any amount."
This proposition in regard to credit was no mere temporary
expedient, thought of at the time, to meet an unexpected
contingency. It had been all clearly arranged in the minds of
Fenwick and other ruling spirits in New York, and Markland was not
permitted to leave before his name, coupled with that of "some of
the best names in the city," was on promissory notes for almost
fabulous amounts.
Taking into account the former business experience of Mr. Markland,
his present reckless investments and still more reckless signing of
obligations for large sums, show how utterly blind his perceptions
and unsettled his judgment had become. The waters he had so
successfully navigated before were none of them strange waters. He
had been over them with chart, compass, and pilot, many times before
he adventured for himself. But now, with a richly freighted argosy,
he was on an unknown sea. Pleasantly the summer breeze had wafted
him onward for a season. Spice-islands were passed, and golden
shores revealed themselves invitingly in the distance. The haven was
almost gained, when along the far horizon dusky vapours gathered and
hid the pleasant land. Darker they grew, and higher they arose,
until at length the whole sky was draped, and neither sun nor stars
looked down from its leaden depths. Yet with a desperate courage he
kept steadily onward, for the record of observations since the
voyage began was too imperfect to serve as a guide to return. Behind
was certain destruction; while beyond the dark obscurity, the golden
land of promise smiled ever in the glittering sunshine. _