He spoke with the air of one who felt indifferent as to which way the decision had been made.

Without replying, Wilkinson took from under a paper weight on his desk a check for five hundred dollars, and presented it to the collector.
"All right," was the satisfied remark of the latter as he read the face of the check; and, immediately producing his large pocket-book, drew forth Wilkinson's due-bills, and selecting one for three hundred and one for two hundred dollars, placed them in his hands.
"On this day one week I will be here again," said the man, impressively, and, turning away, left the store.
The moment he was out of sight, Wilkinson tore the due-bills he had cancelled into a score of pieces, and, as he scattered them on the floor, said to himself--"Perish, sad evidences of my miserable folly! The lesson would be salutary, were it not received at too heavy a cost.
Can I recover from this?
Alas! I fear not.

Fifteen hundred more to be abstracted from my business, and in three weeks! How can it possibly be done ?" To a certain extent, the lesson was salutary.

During the next three weeks, Wilkinson, who felt a nervous reluctance to enter a drinking-house lest he should meet Carlton, kept away from such places, and therefore drank but little during the time; nor did he once go out in the evening, except in company with his wife, who was studious, all the time, in the science of making home happy.

But it was impossible for her to chase away the shadow that rested upon her husband's brow.
Promptly, on a certain day in each week of that period, came the man who held the due-bills given to Carlton, leaving Wilkinson five hundred dollars poorer with each visitation--poorer, unhappier, and more discouraged in regard to his business, which was scarcely stanch enough to bear the sudden withdrawal of so much money.
Under such circumstances it was impossible for Wilkinson to appear otherwise than troubled.