The jewels were only a few rings, a
brooch, a pair of earrings, and a bracelet; but they were good of their
kind, and in all worth something like two hundred pounds.
These, and the gold chronometer which he carried in his waistcoat-pocket,
constituted all the worldly wealth which Mr. Sheldon could command, now
that the volcanic ground upon which his commercial position had been
built began to crumble beneath his feet, and the bubbling of the crater
warned him of his peril. He put the trinkets into his pocket without
compunction, and then went upstairs to his dressing-room, where he
proceeded to pack his clothes in a capacious portmanteau, which in itself
might constitute his credentials among strangers, so eminently
respectable was its appearance.
In this dread crisis of his life he thought of everything that affected
his own interests. To what was he going? That question was for the moment
unanswerable. In every quarter of the globe there are happy
hunting-grounds for the soldier of fortune. Some plan for the future
would shape itself in his mind by-and-by. His wife's desertion had left
him thoroughly independent. He had no tie to restrain his movements,
nothing to dread except such proceedings as might be taken against him by
the holders of those bills. And such proceedings are slow, while modern
locomotion is swift.
What was he leaving? That was easily answered.
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