So the mate passed carelessly on, leaving the Colonel to manage the negotiation, with the understanding that they were to share the profits of the transaction between them.
Just at this moment, Mr. Chauncy, who was looking down upon this scene from above, called out to the woman,--
"My good woman, your ticket has drawn the prize. The Colonel has come to pay you the money."
The Colonel was overwhelmed with astonishment and vexation at this interruption. He looked up, with a countenance full of rage, to see from whom the sound proceeded. There were one or two other gentlemen standing with Chauncy as witnesses of the scene; and the Colonel saw at once that his scheme was defeated. So he made a virtue of necessity, and, taking out the purse, he poured the ten sovereigns into the poor woman's lap. She was overwhelmed and bewildered with astonishment at finding herself suddenly in possession of so much money.
As for Hilbert, there were no bounds to the vexation and anger which he experienced in the failure of all his hopes and expectations.
"What a miserable fool I was!" said he. "I might have had that very ticket. He as good as offered to exchange with me. Such a stupid dolt as I was, not to know when it was upside down! Then, besides, I was offered two pounds for my ticket, sure--and I believe I should have taken it, if my father had not advised me not to do it. That would have come to almost fifteen dollars, and that I should have been sure of. So much for taking my father's advice. I hope they'll get up another lottery to-morrow, and then I'll buy a ticket and do just as I please with it, and not take _any body's_ advice. I shall be sure to make fifteen dollars, at least, if I don't do any better than I might have done to-day."
The rest of the company felt very much as Hilbert did about their losses and disappointments, though the etiquette of gambling, which they understood better than he, forbade their expressing their feelings so freely. In fact, one source of the illusion which surrounds this vice is, that the interest which it excites, and the hilarity and mirth which attend it during its progress, are all open to view, while the disappointment, the mortification, the chagrin, and the remorse are all studiously concealed. The remorse is the worst ingredient in the bitter cup. It not only stings and torments those who have lost, but it also spoils the pleasure of those who win. That is, in fact, always the nature and tendency of remorse. It aggravates all the pain and suffering that it mingles with and poisons all the pleasure.