Books: Heart Histories and Life Pictures
T >>
T. S. Arthur >> Heart Histories and Life Pictures
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 | 16
"How many?"
Mrs. Grimes looked confused, and stammered out, "I do not now
exactly remember."
"How many did she tell you, Mrs. Raynor?"
"She said there were three yards."
"And you, Mrs. Fisher?"
"Six yards."
"And you, Mrs. Florence?"
"Fifteen yards, I think."
"Oh, no, Mrs. Florence; you are entirely mistaken. You misunderstood
me," said Mrs. Grimes, in extreme perturbation.
"Perhaps so. But that is my present impression," replied Mrs.
Florence.
"That will do," said Mrs. Comegys. "Mrs. Grimes can now go on with
her answer to my inquiry. I will remark, however, that the overplus
was just two yards."
"Then you admit that the lawn overran what you had paid for?"
"Certainly I do. It overran just two yards."
"Very well. One yard or a dozen, the principle is just the same. I
asked you what you meant to do with it, and you replied, 'keep it,
of course.' Do you deny that?"
"No. It is very likely that I did say so, for it was my intention to
keep it."
"Without paying for it?" asked Mrs. Markle.
Mrs. Comegys looked steadily into the face of her interrogator for
some moments, a flush upon her cheek, an indignant light in her eye.
Then, without replying to the question, she stepped to the wall and
rang the parlor bell. In a few moments a servant came in.
"Ask the gentleman in the dining-room if he will be kind enough to
step here." In a little while a step was heard along the passage,
and then a young man entered.
"You are a clerk in Mr. Perkins' store?" said Mrs. Comegys.
"Yes, ma'am."
"You remember my buying this lawn dress at your store?"
"Very well, ma'am. I should forget a good many incidents before I
forgot that."
"What impressed it upon your memory?"
"This circumstance. I was very much hurried at the time when you
bought it, and in measuring it off, made a mistake against myself of
two yards. There should have been four dresses in the piece. One had
been sold previous to yours. Not long after your dress had been sent
home, two ladies came into the store and chose each a dress from the
pattern. On measuring the piece, I discovered that it was two yards
short, and lost the sale of the dresses in consequence, as the
ladies wished them alike. An hour afterward you called to say that I
had made a mistake and sent you home two yards more than you had
paid for; but that as you liked the pattern very much, you would
keep it and buy two yards more for a dress for your little girl."
"Yes; that is exactly the truth in regard to the dress. I am obliged
to you, Mr. S----, for the trouble I have given you. I will not keep
you any longer."
The young man bowed and withdrew.
The ladies immediately gathered around Mrs. Comegys, with a thousand
apologies for having for a moment entertained the idea that she had
been guilty of wrong, while Mrs. Grimes took refuge in a flood of
tears.
"I have but one cause of complaint against you all," said the
injured lady, "and it is this. A charge of so serious a nature
should never have been made a subject of common report without my
being offered a chance to defend myself. As for Mrs. Grimes, I can't
readily understand how she fell into the error she did. But she
never would have fallen into it if she had not been more willing to
think evil than good of her friends. I do not say this to hurt her;
but to state a truth that it may be well for her, and perhaps some
of the rest of us, to lay to heart. It is a serious thing to speak
evil of another, and should never be done except on the most
unequivocal evidence. It never occurred to me to say to Mrs. Grimes
that I would pay for the lawn; that I supposed she or any one else
would have inferred, when I said I would keep it."
A great deal was said by all parties, and many apologies were made.
Mrs. Grimes was particularly humble, and begged all present to
forgive and forget what was past. She knew, she said, that she was
apt to talk; it was a failing with her which she would try to
correct. But that she didn't mean to do any one harm.
As to the latter averment, it can be believed or not as suits every
one's fancy. All concerned in this affair felt that they had
received a lesson they would not soon forget. And we doubt not, that
some of our readers might lay it to heart with great advantage to
themselves and benefit to others.
THE HEIRESS.
KATE DARLINGTON was a belle and a beauty; and had, as might be
supposed, not a few admirers. Some were attracted by her person;
some by her winning manners, and not a few by the wealth of her
family. But though sweet Kate was both a belle and a beauty, she was
a shrewd, clear-seeing girl, and had far more penetration into
character than belles and beauties are generally thought to possess.
For the whole tribe of American dandies, with their disfiguring
moustaches and imperials, she had a most hearty contempt. Hair never
made up, with her, for the lack of brains.
But, as she was an heiress in expectancy, and moved in the most
fashionable society, and was, with all, a gay and sprightly girl,
Kate, as a natural consequence, drew around her the gilded moths of
society, not a few of whom got their wings scorched, on approaching
too near.
Many aspired to be lovers, and some, more ardent than the rest,
boldly pressed forward and claimed her hand. But Kate did not
believe in the doctrine that love begets love in all cases. Were
this so, it was clear that she would have to love half a dozen, for
at least that number came kneeling to her with their hearts in their
hands.
Mr. Darlington was a merchant. Among his clerks was the son of an
old friend, who, in dying some years before, had earnestly solicited
him to have some care over the lad, who at his death would become
friendless. In accordance with this last request, Mr. Darlington
took the boy into his counting-room; and, in order that he might,
with more fidelity, redeem his promise to the dying father, also
received him into his family.
Edwin Lee proved himself not ungrateful for the kindness. In a few
years he became one of Mr. Darlington's most active, trustworthy and
intelligent clerks; while his kind, modest, gentlemanly deportment
at home, won the favor and confidence of all the family. With Edwin,
Kate grew up as with a brother. Their intercourse was of the most
frank and confiding character.
But there came, at last, a change. Kate from a graceful
sweet-tempered, affectionate girl, stepped forth, almost in a day,
it seemed to Edwin, a full-grown, lovely woman, into whose eyes he
could not look as steadily as before, and on whose beautiful face he
could no longer gaze with the calmness of feeling he had until now
enjoyed.
For awhile, Edwin could not understand the reason of this change.
Kate was the same to him; and yet not the same. There was no
distance--no reserve on her part; and yet, when he came into her
presence, he felt his heart beat more quickly; and when she looked
him steadily in the face, his eyes would droop, involuntarily,
beneath her gaze.
Suddenly, Edwin awoke to a full realization of the fact that Kate
was to him more than a gentle friend or a sweet sister. From that
moment, he became reserved in his intercourse with her; and, after a
short time, firmly made up his mind that it was his duty to retire
from the family of his benefactor. The thought of endeavoring to win
the heart of the beautiful girl, whom he had always loved as a
sister, and now almost worshipped, was not, for a moment
entertained. To him there would have been so much of ingratitude in
this, and so much that involved a base violation of Mr. Darlington's
confidence, that he would have suffered anything rather than be
guilty of such an act.
But he could not leave the home where he had been so kindly regarded
for years, without offering some reason that would be satisfactory.
The true reason, he could not, of course, give. After looking at the
subject in various lights, and debating it for a long time, Edwin
could see no way in which he could withdraw from the family of Mr.
Darlington, without betraying his secret, unless he were to leave
the city at the same time. He, therefore, sought and obtained the
situation of supercargo in a vessel loading for Valparaiso.
When Edwin announced this fact to Mr. Darlington, the merchant was
greatly surprised, and appeared hurt that the young man should take
such a step without a word of consultation with him. Edwin tried to
explain; but, as he had to conceal the real truth, his explanation
rather tended to make things appear worse than better.
Kate heard the announcement with no less surprise than her father.
The thing was so sudden, so unlooked for, and, moreover, so uncalled
for, that she could not understand it. In order to take away any
pecuniary reason for the step he was about to take, Mr. Darlington,
after holding a long conversation with Edwin, made him offers far
more advantageous than his proposed expedition could be to him,
viewed in any light. But he made them in vain. Edwin acknowledged
the kindness, in the warmest terms, but remained firm in his purpose
to sail with the vessel.
"Why will you go away and leave us, Edwin?" said Kate, one evening
when they happened to be alone, about two weeks before his expected
departure. "I do think it very strange!"
Edwin had avoided, as much as possible, being alone with Kate, a
fact which the observant maiden had not failed to notice. Their
being alone now was from accident rather than design on his part.
"I think it right for me to go, Kate," the young man replied, as
calmly as it was possible for him to speak under the circumstances.
"And when I think it right to do a thing, I never hesitate or look
back."
"You have a reason, for going, of course. Why, then, not tell it
frankly? Are we not all your friends?"
Edwin was silent, and his eyes rested upon the floor, while a deeper
flush than usual was upon his face. Kate looked at him fixedly.
Suddenly a new thought flashed through her mind, and the color on
her own cheeks grew warmer. Her voice from that moment was lower and
more tender; and her eyes, as she conversed with the young man, were
never a moment from his face. As for him, his embarrassment in her
presence was never more complete, and he betrayed the secret that
was in his heart even while he felt the most earnest to conceal it.
Conscious of this, he excused himself and retired as soon as it was
possible to do so.
Kate sat thoughtful for some time after he had left. Then rising up,
she went, with a firm step to her father's room.
"I have found out," she said, speaking with great self-composure,
"the reason why Edwin persists in going away."
"Ah! what is the reason, Kate? I would give much to know."
"He is in love," replied Kate, promptly.
"In love! How do you know that?"
"I made the discovery to-night."
"Love should keep him at home, not drive him away," said Mr.
Darlington.
"But he loves hopelessly," returned the maiden. "He is poor, and the
object of his regard belongs to a wealthy family."
"And her friends will have nothing to do with him."
"I am not so sure of that. But he formed an acquaintance with the
young lady under circumstances that would make it mean, in his eyes,
to urge any claims upon her regard."
"Then honor as well as love takes him away."
"Honor in fact; not love. Love would make him stay," replied the
maiden with a sparkling eye, and something of proud elevation in the
tones of her voice.
A faint suspicion of the truth now came stealing on the mind of Mr.
Darlington.
"Does the lady know of his preference for her?" he asked.
"Not through any word or act of his, designed to communicate a
knowledge of the fact," replied Kate, her eyes falling under the
earnest look bent upon her by Mr. Darlington.
"Has he made you his confidante?"
"No, sir. I doubt if the secret has ever passed his lips." Kate's
face was beginning to crimson, but she drove back the tell-tale
blood with a strong effort of the will.
"Then how came you possessed of it," inquired the father.
The blood came back to her face with a rush, and she bent her head
so that her dark glossy curls fell over and partly concealed it. In
a moment or two she had regained her self-possession, and looking up
she answered,
"Secrets like this do not always need oral or written language to
make them known. Enough, father, that I have discovered the fact
that his heart is deeply imbued with a passion for one who knows
well his virtues--his pure, true heart--his manly sense of honor;
with a passion for one who has looked upon him till now as a
brother, but who henceforth must regard him with a different and
higher feeling."
Kate's voice trembled. As she uttered the last few words, she lost
control of herself, and bent forward, and hid her face upon her
father's arm.
Mr. Darlington, as might well be supposed, was taken altogether by
surprise at so unexpected an announcement. The language used by his
daughter needed no interpretation. She was the maiden beloved by his
clerk.
"Kate," said he, after a moment or two of hurried reflection, "this
is a very serious matter. Edwin is only a poor clerk, and you--"
"And I," said Kate, rising up, and taking the words from her father,
"and I am the daughter of a man who can appreciate what is excellent
in even those who are humblest in the eyes of the world. Father, is
not Edwin far superior to the artificial men who flutter around
every young lady who now makes her appearance in the circle where we
move? Knowing him as you do, I am sure you will say yes."
"But, Kate----"
"Father, don't let us argue this point. Do you want Edwin to go
away?" And the young girl laid her hand upon her parent, and looked
him in the face with unresisting affection.
"No dear; I certainly don't wish him to go."
"Nor do I," returned the maiden, as she leaned forward again, and
laid her face upon his arm. In a little while she arose, and, with
her countenance turned partly away, said--
"Tell him not to go, father----"
And with these words she retired from the room.
On the next evening, as Edwin was sitting alone in one of the
drawing-rooms, thinking on the long night of absence that awaited
him, Mr. Darlington came in, accompanied by Kate. They seated
themselves near the young man, who showed some sense of
embarrassment. There was no suspense, however, for Mr. Darlington
said--
"Edwin, we none of us wish you to go away. You know that I have
urged every consideration in my power, and now I have consented to
unite with Kate in renewing a request for you to remain. Up to this
time you have declined giving a satisfactory reason for your sudden
resolution to leave; but a reason is due to us--to me in
particular--and I now most earnestly conjure you to give it."
The young man, at this became greatly agitated, but did not venture
to make a reply.
"You are still silent on the subject," said Mr. Darlington.
"He will not go, father," said Kate, in a tender, appealing voice.
"I know he will not go. We cannot let him go. Kinder friends he will
not find anywhere than he has here. And we shall miss him from our
home circle. There will be a vacant place at our board. Will you be
happier away, Edwin?"
The last sentence was uttered in a tone of sisterly affection.
"Happier!" exclaimed the young man, thrown off his guard. "Happier!
I shall be wretched while away."
"Then why go?" returned Kate, tenderly.
At this stage of affairs, Mr. Darlington got up, and retired; and we
think we had as well retire with the reader.
The good ship "Leonora" sailed in about ten days. She had a
supercargo on board; but his name was not Edwin Lee.
Fashionable people were greatly surprised when the beautiful Kate
Darlington married her father's clerk; and moustached dandies curled
their lip, but it mattered not to Kate. She had married a man in
whose worth, affection, and manliness of character, she could repose
a rational confidence. If not a fashionable, she was a happy wife.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 | 16