"Philip Sheldon begs to inform the members of the House that he cannot
comply with his bargains."
A sudden flutter of the leaves of many note-books follows that awful
announcement. Voices rise loud in united utterance of surprise or
indignation. The doors swing to and fro, as hurrying members dash in and
out to scan the market and ascertain how far they may be affected by this
unlooked-for failure.
This was the scene which the watcher pictured to himself; and for him
Fate could wear no aspect more terrible. Respectability, solvency,
success--these were the idols to which he had given worship and tribute
in all the days of his life. To propitiate these inexorable ones he had
sacrificed all the dearest and best blessings which earth and heaven
offer to mankind. Best or happiness, as other men consider these
blessings, he had never known; the sense of triumph in success of the
present, the feverish expectation of success in the future--these had
stood to him in the place of love and hope, pleasure and idlesse, all the
joys and comforts of this lower world, and all the holy dreams of purer
pleasures in a world to come.
One vague brief thought of all that he had sacrificed flashed across
his brain; and swift upon his track followed the thought of what he
stood to lose.
Something more than his position upon the Stock Exchange was at stake. He
had done desperate things in the vain hope of sustaining that position
against the destroying sweep of Fortune's turning tide.
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