The Houma courier. (Houma, La.) 1878-1939, 1900-04-21
a Narrow Escape

EHE end had come. The old firm
name which had been carried like
a banner above the commerce of the city
was down. Itwas dragging in the dust.
Arthur Wilkinson, last of his line, heir
to his fathers fortune and responsible
3ties, who had made a mucker of af-
fairs too large and far reaching for him
to manage, attained the conclusion thai
the simplest thing for him to do was
to put sharp quietus to life whose
energies had evidently been misappIied.
There were, of course, complications.
There always are. To begin with, there
was Winnifred Inderrierden. He had ex-
Pected to marry her-they had, in fact,
had an unusual courtship, the particu-
lars Of which it would be a pleasure to
relate, il there. were time. Which there
As not. He knew what her expectations
were. She had always been surrounds
ed by Injuries. Tt would hardly occur
to her that there could be any other
conditions-for Winnifred Inderrier-
den. She loved him, he thought, but
after all, it had been a love that fed
on the beautiful and on the luxurious.
They had usually met in the evening,
she eyquisitely attired sand in her best
mood, he eager for the diversion which
her Vivacity afforded him, and the de-
light which her Ioveliness gave. They
had eaten in the stately Inderrierden
dining toge ther. Theyhad driven
abroad on the boulevard at the gayest
hour, in the most fetching, of carts; they
knew the opera together and the or
'chestral concerts. Their love had ''fed
on the roses and lain in the lilies of
life" How would it weather storms of
poverty and sef-deniaI and social OBJ
livion? The simplest way out Of his
difficulties, Arthur Wilkinson assured
himself again, was to make the sharp
quietus.
Why could he not stop thinking, hav-
ing made his resolution? Why must he
remember these hideous details that
brought the blood in hot rush to his
jaded face? Why must he recolIect
old Ef1nger, for 20 years the manager
of the house, whose careful savings
had gone up with the rest? Efinger
impoverished, and in his old age, and
because of the fatuous folly of an in
competent ass who lacked the ability
80 run a concern himself, and who had
not the sense to ask advice of his
elders!
There were other things which were
no less distressing to remember. There
were the men and women who had
counted on steady employment from
the firm, some of whom had every
reason to suppose. that their vocation
for life was fixed. He knew some of
the young men who had married upon
this supposition, men who had been
his friends for years, and who trusted
him entirely. He was, unfortunately
for his peace of mind, acquainted with
the private life of many of his en-
ployes. He knew what their response /
bilities were. He thought of Maggie
O'Neill, who cared for five brothers
and sisters and who had no one to help |
her in the fight-patient Maggie, whose |
eyes had always looked into his with |
frank goodwill and gratitude.
He calmly set a date for his decisive |
act, and counted the days with some |
thing like anticipation. The burden
Of chagrin and regret upon him was so |
heavy that the thought of rest was
heavenly indeed. He had no doubt, |
he told himself, that the grave meant /
absolute oblivion. When that ingenious
piece Of workmanship, thes brain,
ceased its restless labors, there was
nothing knowledge, no fears, no
joys. Oblivion was best. Still, what
if his reckonings were wrong? What
IL he found himself plunged yet more
irretrievably into a sea of remorse?
What if-but what childish folly. The
grave was the grave. 1t was the pc
riod. When one achieved death, one
wrote "fnis."
This is the day of my release"
said he. and the heart which had
dragged at him till it seemed an un-
supportable physical burden was
eassd trifle. He fingered long over
hia bath and took note of all the CON
forts he enjoyed in his pleasant rooms.
Then he made an inventory of the
furniture and bric-a-brac and laid it
where it could be easily found. lie
look his watch, which had been a gift