She kissed the tips of her fingers to him, and entered the adjoining room. Then, turning the key in the door Christian Almer admitted the Advocate.
Pause we here a moment, and contemplate the threads of the web which Chance, Fate, or Retribution was weaving round this man.
With the exception of a few idle weeks in his youth, his life had been a life of honour and renown. His ambition was a worthy one, and success had not been attained without unwearying labour and devotion. Close study and application, zeal, earnestness, unflagging industry, these were the steps in the ladder he had climbed. Had it not been for his keen intellect these qualities would not have been sufficient to conduct him to the goal he had in view. Good luck is not to be despised, but unless it is allied with brain power of a high order only an ephemeral success can be achieved.
Never, to outward appearance, was a great reputation more stable or better deserved. His wonderful talents, and the victories he had gained in the face of formidable odds, had destroyed all the petty jealousies with which he had to cope in the outset of his career, and he stood now upon a lofty pinnacle, acknowledged by all as a master in his craft. Wealth and distinction were his, and higher honours lay within his grasp; and, in addition, he had won for his wife one of the most beautiful of women. It seemed as if the world had nothing to add to his happiness.
And yet destruction stared him in the face. The fabric he had raised, on a foundation so secure that it appeared as if nothing could shake it, was tottering, and might fall, destroying him and all he had worked for in the ruins.
He stood at the door of the only man in the world to whom he had given the full measure of his friendship. With all the strength of his nature he believed in Christian Almer. In the gravest crisis of his life he would have called this friend to his side, and would have placed in his hands, without hesitation, his life, his reputation, and his honour. To Almer, in their conversation, he had revealed what may be termed his inner life, that life the workings of which were concealed from all other men. And in this friend's chamber his wife was concealed; and dishonour hung over him by the slenderest thread. Not only dishonour, but unutterable grief, for he loved this woman with a most complete undoubting love. Little time had he for dalliance; but he believed in his wife implicitly. His trust in her was a perfect trust.