Roads of Destiny

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O Henry. Roads of Destiny

I. ROADS OF DESTINY

II. THE GUARDIAN OF THE ACCOLADE

III. THE DISCOUNTERS OF MONEY

IV. THE ENCHANTED PROFILE

V "NEXT TO READING MATTER"

VI. ART AND THE BRONCO

VII. PHŒBE

VIII. A DOUBLE-DYED DECEIVER

IX. THE PASSING OF BLACK EAGLE

X. A RETRIEVED REFORMATION

XI. CHERCHEZ LA FEMME

XII. FRIENDS IN SAN ROSARIO

XIII. THE FOURTH IN SALVADOR

XIV. THE EMANCIPATION OF BILLY

XV. THE ENCHANTED KISS

XVI. A DEPARTMENTAL CASE

XVII. THE RENAISSANCE AT CHARLEROI

XVIII. ON BEHALF OF THE MANAGEMENT

XIX. WHISTLING DICK'S CHRISTMAS STOCKING

XX. THE HALBERDIER OF THE LITTLE RHEINSCHLOSS

XXI. TWO RENEGADES

XXII. THE LONESOME ROAD

Отрывок из книги

Not the least important of the force of the Weymouth Bank was Uncle Bushrod. Sixty years had Uncle Bushrod given of faithful service to the house of Weymouth as chattel, servitor, and friend. Of the colour of the mahogany bank furniture was Uncle Bushrod – thus dark was he externally; white as the uninked pages of the bank ledgers was his soul. Eminently pleasing to Uncle Bushrod would the comparison have been; for to him the only institution in existence worth considering was the Weymouth Bank, of which he was something between porter and generalissimo-in-charge.

Weymouth lay, dreamy and umbrageous, among the low foothills along the brow of a Southern valley. Three banks there were in Weymouthville. Two were hopeless, misguided enterprises, lacking the presence and prestige of a Weymouth to give them glory. The third was The Bank, managed by the Weymouths – and Uncle Bushrod. In the old Weymouth homestead – the red brick, white-porticoed mansion, the first to your right as you crossed Elder Creek, coming into town – lived Mr. Robert Weymouth (the president of the bank), his widowed daughter, Mrs. Vesey – called "Miss Letty" by every one – and her two children, Nan and Guy. There, also in a cottage on the grounds, resided Uncle Bushrod and Aunt Malindy, his wife. Mr. William Weymouth (the cashier of the bank) lived in a modern, fine house on the principal avenue.

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"Well, I'll have to admit," said the judge, thoughtfully, as they climbed into the waggon, "that the old darkey's argument can't conscientiously be overruled."

"Still," said Mr. Robert, with a ghost of a sigh, "there was two quarts of the finest old silk-velvet Bourbon in that satchel you ever wet your lips with."

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