Dunbar thought, that in case any new transactions should ever occur, he could take good care to get the pay before any service was rendered. The receipt was made less objectionable than one expressing the true nature of the transaction would have been.
"Of course I owe you nothing now, I never shall owe you anything," said Harrison, as he folded the receipt and placed it carefully in his pocket. "If, at any time hereafter, you should happen to stumble upon a claim against me, don't think of presenting it, for I pledge you my word, if you do, that I will shake this receipt in your face and bid you defiance. The day may come, young man, when you and I will know each other better,—or rather when you will know me better than you now do. As for you, I believe I understand your character pretty well, and cannot refrain from telling you that I think you the most precious scoundrel I ever met."
"I will not compliment you so much as to be angry at that fine speech," returned Dunbar, with great composure. "As far as scoundrelism is concerned, I apprehend that we stand somewhere upon the same level."
A bright spot burned instantly on the old man's cheek, but he did not lose his self-command, and merely answered—
"Time will show that," and waived the lawyer to retire.
The discovery that this man was the guardian of his wife, could not, in the very nature of things, be very agreeable to Dunbar. It caused, instantly, sundry ugly suggestions to arise in his mind, that by no means added to the joy of his wedding night.
"Thank God that she is off my hands," said old Mr. Harrison to his wife, as they returned from the festive scene, "and that she has another guardian."
"You've had trouble enough with her," returned the wife.
"Yes; and but for her father's sake, I should have been tempted long ago to place her property in her hands, and have nothing more to do with her."
"Her husband appears like a very fine young man."
"She's as quite as good as he is. I think them well matched."
"Suppose he should, by any means, hear of her improper conduct. Would not the consequence be bad?"
"He can't hear much worse of her than she can hear of him. She never was guilty of direct impropriety of conduct that could touch her moral character, although there is no telling what she would have done, had there not been, always, the most careful guardianship over her. If we had not brought her to Philadelphia when we did, I'm afraid she would have been lost."
"It's a relief that she's married, certainly."
"Isn't it; even if only married for her money, which I hear her husband sets down at seventy thousand dollars."
"He'll find himself mistaken."
"Won't he. As bitterly as ever a man did."
So much for the prospect of happiness in the married life of Lawrence Dunbar.
We must now glance back for a few years, and bring up the history of other characters in our story.
CHAPTER XIII.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
As demonstrator of anatomy, Dr. Hudson soon stood high in the school of medicine in which he had been chosen to occupy that position. All who came in contact with him were as much struck with his extreme modesty, as with his wide intelligence on all subjects nearly or remotely connected with his profession. As an anatomist, he was seen to be greatly in advance of his predecessor, and to his demonstrations the class even paid a closer attention than they did to the lectures of the professor himself.
To surgery Hudson gave a large share of his attention. Before he had been six months in the school, he performed one of the most difficult operations known in medical annals. A report of this was made by a professional man who was present to one of the newspapers, from whence it was copied into the several medical journals in this country and England. The notoriety which this case gave to Dr. Hudson, brought him immediately before the public, and established his reputation as a surgeon. From that time his practice began to assume some importance; and although very young for a surgeon, he had a number of very important cases intrusted to his care.
The temptation to use the knife Hudson found, as all young surgeons do, very strong. But he set it down as a rule, never to use the knife where there were hopes of a cure without it.
"The surgeon's skill," he would say, "does not lie so much in the use of the knife as in his ability to cure without its use. The knife is only a last resort."
The number of cures that he made of cases upon which he was called to operate, without the "last resort," endeared him to many who had shrunk with terrible fear from the knife. They were, ever after, his fast friends, and spoke of him on all proper occasions in the warmest manner.
A rapid increase of practice was the natural consequence of this. His youth and modest demeanor prejudiced many against him as a physician; but none who once employed him, wished to give him up; for they felt, after seeing him a few times in the sick chamber, that he not only understood what he was about, but was governed by highly conscientious principles in the discharge of his professional duties. There was a sphere of goodness as well as intelligence about him distinctly perceived by all who came in contact with him.
From that time he began steadily to the externally, as he had been rising internally since the period when, in freedom and reason, he took charge of himself as a man.
The heartless abandonment of Mary Lee by Dunbar, involving a shameless violation of the marriage contract, was a fact well-known to Doctor Hudson, and was in his mind when, on his last meeting with the rising attorney, he intimated his wish that their friendship should cease. Notwithstanding he found the heart of Mary in the keeping of another when he applied for her hand, Hudson could never cease to feel towards her as he felt to no others. All hope of her ever becoming his wife had been abandoned; but still her image remained, and in dreams she came to him with her loving voice and gentle smile.
Moro than a year passed after the abandonment of Mary by her false lover, and in that time Hudson had not once met her, as she went into company very rarely. He heard her sometimes spoken of as much changed.
The rising reputation of Doctor Hudson extended his circle of friends, and gained for him introductions into a grade of society rather above what he had been used to. To say that he felt altogether at home here would be an error, for he met with many things new to him, and felt, for a time, a degree of restraint that took away the pleasure of social intercourse. In the society of ladies, especially young ladies, Dunbar had been free almost to rudeness; Hudson was chargeable rather with the opposite extreme. Wherever he went, however, he made the most favorable impression, for it was only necessary to be in conversation with him for a short time to recognise a mind of superior order tempered and subdued by the nicest sense of honor—honor in its truest acceptation—and humble views of himself.
We do not mean that the refinements and elegancies of life that he met with in this higher grade were repugnant to him. But they were what he had not been used to; and therefore, he felt, for a time, an unpleasant restraint, and a fear lest he should ignorantly violate some mode or form deemed essential to polite intercourse. It did not take him very long, however, to feel at ease, for he was a gentleman from principle, and soon understood that there was little danger of his going wrong.
Many bright eyes looked upon the young physician, and many sweet lips wreathed in smiles for him. But no eyes appeared so bright as those of Mary Lee—no face so full of innocent loveliness as the remembered face of the sweet maiden who had captivated his young affections.
As time went on, and success, at first so far in the distance, and seeming as if it would never approach, was no longer a matter of doubt, Doctor Hudson, instead of withdrawing himself from his family, was more drawn into it.
His oldest sister was married to a very estimable man, a clerk in Market-street, and his youngest sister still continued giving instruction in music. He made it a point to go with Ella into company, whenever it was practicable to do so, and to attend her to places of public amusement.
One night a concert was given at the Musical Fund Hall, by a celebrated violinist, and Hudson mentioned to a young physician during the day his great desire to hear the performance.
"Suppose we get tickets and go," was replied.
"That is what I have thought of doing," returned Hudson.
"I propose that we invite the Misses Harling to go with us. They are charming girls, and extravagantly fond of music. I can take Kate, and you Flora. It's just the opportunity for improving our acquaintance, and making it more familiar. You know their attractions are of a most substantial kind."
"I intend going with my sister," replied Hudson. "She is quite as fond of music as they are, and will enjoy this concert exceedingly."
"Your sister! Indeed!" The young man thought a moment, and then said—
"I believe you are right, doctor; and I will profit by so good an example, and take my sister. The fact is, we young men are too indifferent about our sisters. I stand reproved, and thank you for the reproof."
"It gives me pleasure to hear you speak so, doctor," said Hudson, warmly. "As you say, sisters are too much neglected by young men, who, instead of making them their companions, seek companions anywhere else, and leave them at home, or to go with young men of whose characters very often they know nothing."
"It is too true, and I confess myself guilty of the fault. But I will mend it from this time, and go to see the Misses Harling on some other occasion."
The young physician rose much higher than he had stood before in the estimation of Hudson. His name was Baldwin. He had a fair practice for so young a man, and was generally well-esteemed. Hudson's love of anatomy and surgery attracted Baldwin, and his good qualities made him seek his friendship. While he admired his talents he highly esteemed him as a man.
The tickets for the concert were bought, and Ella gladly accompanied her brother, for whom she had the tenderest and most confiding affection. They had not been seated long in the concert-room, before Hudson noticed Doctor Baldwin enter unaccompanied by any one. He came down the aisle, and seeing Hudson, near whom was a vacant seat, came and sat down in the bench just before him, turning round and bowing as he did so. His eyes rested on the face of Ella for a moment or two, and were then withdrawn. In a little while he leaned over towards Hudson, and said—
"I am not so fortunate as you. My sister happened to have an engagement."
He then looked at Ella, and again at Hudson, as much as to say, "Why don't you introduce me?"
But Hudson, although prepossessed in his favor, did not yet know him well enough to be willing to make him acquainted with Ella, and therefore gave him no introduction. Many times during the evening did Doctor Baldwin turn round to speak to Hudson, and on such occasions he made it a point to obtain a good look at Ella. When she made any remark to her brother on the performance, his ear was bent towards her, and strove to take in every word.
"She's a sweet girl," he said to himself. "I had no idea that Doctor Hudson had a sister like that. No wonder he takes her to concerts. Confound it! Why don't he introduce me? I'm sure I've asked him to do so as plain as looks can ask."
Not long after the performance commenced, Hudson happened to turn his eyes to the side of the room, when they rested upon a young, somewhat pensive face, and a pair of dark blue eyes, fixed earnestly upon him. The face was as familiar as that of his own sister yet not until he had withdrawn his eyes from something fascinating in the gaze of this person, did he remember who the lovely stranger was. No, we will not say stranger either, for it would not do to call Mary Lee a stranger.
The eyes of Hudson again turned towards the maiden who had captivated his young affections. She was still looking at him, but beneath his earnest gaze her eyes drooped slowly, until their brightness was veiled by her long dark lashes. She did not lift them again for some moments; when she did so, Hudson withdrew his gaze, and forced himself to look at the performer, although he scarcely distinguished a note of his music for full five minutes at least. Then he could not refrain from a glance at Mary. She, too, was looking at the performer, but in a little while she turned her head, and their eyes again met. Hudson noticed what he thought a slight flush upon the maiden's face; but he was not sure. Many times during the evening their eyes met in the same way, although Hudson tried to prevent it, and she evidently did the same. But somehow or other they were not successful. How it was with Mary the young physician did not know, but to him the concert was an unintelligible jumble of musical sounds.
Doctor Hudson slept but little that night for thinking of Mary Lee. He recalled the fact of his having applied for her hand, and tried to remember her exact look, tone, and words, when she informed him that her affections were pledged, with her hand, to another. Nothing of personal dislike had been manifested, but rather kindness and respect. As for his own feelings, they had never changed. On the next evening, after having thought about little else during the day, Hudson determined upon a visit to Mary, and if his reception were such as to encourage him to do so, to renew the offer he had made her some two years before.
Slight embarrassment was exhibited at the meeting on both sides. But both soon recovered their self-possession, and entered into a pleasant conversation. More than ever was Hudson charmed with the sweet girl. He asked her to sing and play for him, and she played airs that she had often played for him, and sung favorite songs that she had sung for him in other but well-remembered days. All the warmth of the young man's old passion returned. Before he left the maiden that night he had, a second time, made the offer of his love, with a much more favorable result.
CHAPTER XIV.
RISING TO A TRUE LEVEL.
IN two years from the time Doctor Hudson was appointed to the demonstrator's chair his income from practice and the school had risen to twenty-five hundred dollars per annum. This was amply sufficient to make the step of marriage a prudent one. Already had his family received Mary Lee as his future bride, and already was she loved by his mother with a tenderness nearly equal to that felt for her own daughters. All were happy in anticipation of the joyous event, which was celebrated at the house of Mary's aunt, in the presence of a small company whose warm hearts were full of the sincerest wishes for the future happiness of Doctor Hudson and his lovely bride.
A few medical friends, for whom he entertained a high respect, were invited by Hudson to be present. Among these was Doctor Baldwin, who made it the occasion of getting better acquainted with Ella, to whom, a short time before, he had gained an introduction. He was charmed with her intelligence, good taste, good sense, and right modes of thinking and expression.
"With your permission, doctor," he said to Hudson a few days afterwards, "I must follow up my acquaintance with your sister. I was really charmed with her. Pardon me for making so free as to say so."
"Ella is a very good girl," replied Hudson; "but whether you would find her society as attractive as you suppose is more than I can tell. You are aware, I presume, or perhaps you are not, that she is engaged in teaching music, and has been for some years?"
"No, I was not aware of that," said Dr. Baldwin, evincing a slight degree of surprise.
"Yes," said Hudson, calmly. "She considers it right to support herself, and does so."
"Then it is more a matter of principle than necessity?"
"It is now, though it was hardly so at first. But as I have spoken of it, I might as well tell the whole story. You have asked to become better acquainted with Ella, and I will afford you the opportunity. My father, who is, as you are already aware, a watchmaker, understood well enough the advantages of education to give me every opportunity in his power. He sent me to college until I was twenty years of age, and then supported me while I studied medicine, which was for two years longer. As soon as I got my diploma I proposed going South, knowing but too well, that if I remained here, in the effort to get a practice, I would have still to burden my father, who could ill bear it. But to this not a single member of the family would listen. My father said no—my mother said no—my sisters said no. But I was firm. I could not believe it just any longer to depend upon my father, who was getting old."
"Seeing that I was unmoved by all that could be urged, my good sisters proposed teaching music as a means of adding to the income of the family, and thus enabling me to remain without its bearing so heavily upon my father."
"Noble girls!" ejaculated Dr. Baldwin.
"But I rejected the proposal instantly. Pride, or something else in me, took fire at the idea of my sisters teaching music to support me. I would not hear of it. They said that it would make no difference whether I remained in Philadelphia or went away—that their minds were made up to take music scholars and support themselves; and affirmed that music teaching, so far from being disgraceful, was quite as honorable as practising medicine. Upon this, my father, who had only reasoned with me before, approached me on the subject with such a moving appeal, and such exhibition of feeling, that I could no longer resist. I remained. The girls commenced giving lessons, and, no matter how much they affirmed to the contrary to save my feelings, supported me for a year, when I received my present appointment. Since then my oldest sister has married, and Ella continues her professional duties, and has scholars in some families where I have patients. I have long urged her to give them up; but she says that she is usefully employed, and is happier than if she were idle."
"You're proud of her, doctor, ain't you?" said Baldwin with enthusiasm.
"I love her," was Hudson's feeling reply.
"And well you may. The earth bears but few like her upon its surface. I must know her better, doctor, with your permission, as I said before."
"We shall all be happy to receive your visits, doctor," replied Hudson. "You will find us plain people, but with hearts, I trust, in the right place."
"I believe you. The fact is, doctor, you have taught me a good many lessons, from which I have profited; and you teach me still. That expression of yours, 'hearts in the right place,' is full of meaning. We are too apt to look at the exterior, and to judge mainly from that. But our first effort should be to find out whether the heart is in the right place or not."
Doctor Baldwin did not make it long before he formally visited Ella at her father's house. The more intimately he knew her, the more was he charmed with her loveliness of character, and captivated by the natural grace of her manners. There was a time, and that not very long before, when he would have smiled at the idea of visiting the daughter of a mechanic. His father had been a merchant, and, in dying, had left his family with a moderate income, that was found, with the exercise of some prudence, to be fully sufficient for their support. Baldwin had two sisters—one married, and the other, about the age of Ella, unmarried. They had been well educated, and used to the elegancies of refined society. Nearly all who are thus raised have certain false views of social life, something more or less artificial and conventional about them; and this was the case with the sisters of Dr. Baldwin, as well as with most of the young ladies he had happened to meet. Ella Hudson, with equal refinement of feeling, intelligence, and true accomplishments, was so independent in matters of right, so free from everything false, affected, or merely conventional, that he almost wondered at, while he admired her.
"The best specimen of a woman I have yet seen," he said to himself, after a few familiar visits, "and if she and I don't know each other better, it shall not be my fault."
And they did know each other better, and were better pleased with the acquaintance the more intimate it became. The result was an offer of marriage, which the maiden, well pleased, accepted.
Doctor Baldwin was by no means sure that his family would approve his choice. In fact, he looked for objections when he announced the fact of his engagement to the daughter of a watchmaker, unless he could manage, by some means, to get them acquainted with her before they understood the relationship existing between them. This, however, was a matter not likely to occur, as their spheres of association were altogether different. As the sister of Doctor Hudson, she would stand a little higher; but then Doctor Hudson himself had not yet emerged far enough from obscurity to reflect much respectability upon his sister, especially while she, pursuing her own independent course, continued the exercise of her profession as a music teacher.
One day Doctor Baldwin called with his sister to see a young lady acquaintance, who moved in fashionable circles, and who had rather more false pride, false notions, and contempt for what she was pleased to call vulgar, than usually falls to the lot of even fashionable people. While they sat chatting with her in the parlor, the street door bell rang, and the young lady said—
"My music teacher, I presume."
Baldwin and his sister arose.
"Oh, sit still—sit still. She can wait," said the young lady. "It doesn't matter at all."
"Who is your teacher?" asked Miss Baldwin.
"Miss Hudson. Do you know her?"
"No, I never heard of her."
"She's the daughter of old Hudson, the watchmaker."
"Is she a good teacher?"
"Yes, one of the best lady-teachers in the city."
Just then the door opened, and the subject of remark entered the parlor. Doctor Baldwin bowed to her familiarly as their eyes met; and she, smiling brightly, bowed also, and then passed quickly into the back parlor, where she seated herself near the window, and taking up a book, bent her head over it with her face so turned away from the company in the other room that they could not see it. For a moment or two Baldwin, who was taken all by surprise, debated the question whether he should introduce his sister to Ella or not; but he wisely decided that it was not a fitting opportunity, and could be only attended with unpleasant consequences.
The familiar way in which Baldwin and her music teacher had greeted each other, rather surprised the young lady, and caused her to look wonderingly at the doctor for an instant. The sister, too, thought it strange.
"Do you know that Miss Hudson?" she asked, as they walked homewards.
"Yes, very well," he said.
"Indeed! How came you to know her?"
"She is the sister of Dr. Hudson, whom you have seen once or twice at our house."
"And he's a son of the old watchmaker, is he? I did not know that." There was a slight expression of contempt in the young girl's voice.
"He's the son of as honest and honorable a man as ever lived, and is himself an honor to the profession, and will one day be among its brightest lights."
The brother spoke warmly.
"And through him, I suppose, you got acquainted with the sister."
"Rather say, in spite of him, for he was in no haste to introduce me."
"Why did you wish to be introduced?"
"Because I thought her a charming girl."
"A music teacher, and the daughter of an old watchmaker! Why, brother! What has come over you?" There was marked contempt in the sister's voice. "What would Miss Elbert think of this?"
"What difference to me would her thoughts make? None, I assure you. Ella Hudson is far superior to Miss Elbert in everything. There is no comparison between them!"
"Edward, are you crazed?" exclaimed the sister.
"Far from it, Clara. I was never more in my right mind than I am now; and never more in earnest. I have for some time wanted to talk to you on this very subject, but no fitting opportunity before occurred."
"About what subject, brother? I am all amazement!"
"About my preference for Miss Hudson."
"Preference! Edward!"
"No, not preference—regard."
"Regard?"
"No.—Love."
Astonishment kept the sister mute for some moments. Then she said, appealingly—
"Surely, Edward, you do not think of subjecting your family to a deep humiliation."
"No, sister, certainly not. The old watchmaker's daughter will reflect honor upon any family whose name she bears; for she is one among a thousand."
"Oh Edward! What will our mother say? How will our mother feel?"
"Clara," said the brother, speaking seriously, "is there anything wrong, abstractly, in being a watchmaker?"
"I did not say there was."
"Or in teaching music?"
"No; not wrong."
"May not a watchmaker be as much a gentleman as a physician?"
"I suppose so."
"Then, in the fact of being a watchmaker there is nothing that should make one man less esteemed than another man, no better than he is, who follows a profession. Both are useful employments, and so far as they are concerned, he who most faithfully and honestly discharges the duties of his calling, and his social and domestic obligations, is the best man, let the world think and say what it pleases. And not only the best man, but the best friend a man who wants one can choose. So much for the watchmaker. And the same may be said of the music teacher. I don't know that there is any greater honor in receiving musical instruction than there is in imparting it. The general impression is, that the preceptor is superior to the scholar, just in the degree that knowledge is considered superior to ignorance."
"But that doesn't show that you ought to go below your own sphere in society and marry a music teacher, Edward."
"In marrying, sister," replied Baldwin, "a man takes a companion for life, and, therefore, he should select one whose qualities are of a substantial kind, and promise to last through life. Don't you think so?"
"Certainly. Everybody admits that."
"Very well. Suppose I, for instance, see two ladies, for each of whom I feel a preference above others, and wish to select one of them for my wife. One, I find, has been raised in what is called the best society; the other in what is called an inferior grade. Both are equally well educated; or, if there be any difference, it is in favor of the latter. The former has many conventional ideas of right and wrong, and is governed more by them than she is by her own clear sense of propriety: she is very apt to hesitate before doing a thing, and ask the question, What will people say? or, What will be thought of this? The other is free from mere conventional trammels, and is governed in all her acts by her own clear intuitions. She does not hesitate before she acts, except to ask, Is this right? Will this injure another? Now, admitting each to possess equal personal attractions, which of the two ought I to choose? Which would make me the most faithful and sustaining companion in the journey of life?"
"The latter, of course," replied the sister without hesitation.
"Undoubtedly."
"But, Edward, you draw a case that has no counterpart," urged Clara.
"There you are in error. It has its counterpart. Ella Hudson is as far superior to any young lady that I ever met in fashionable circles, as is one of the supposed individuals I have introduced, to the other. As for Miss Elbert, she is far less refined, lady-like, and accomplished then Ella Hudson, and far less worthy the love of any man."
"You speak strongly, Edward."
"I do; I mean all I say. Come, sister! lay aside a weak prejudice that is unworthy of you, and consent to go with me and be introduced to this excellent young lady. You must know each other, and the sooner it takes place the better. I shall need your aid in breaking down our mother's prejudices, that have no better foundation than yours."
Clara was silent. The last appeal of her brother had bewildered her mind. If what he said of Miss Hudson were really true, her natural good sense told her that Edward was right. But the prejudices of education were strong in her mind, and caused it to turn with unconquerable repugnance from the idea of intimate companionship with a music teacher, who was the daughter of a poor watchmaker.
"Will you go with me to see her, Clara?" asked Baldwin.
"Why should I do so?" she replied.
"Have I not said?"
"Surely, brother, you do not mean what, you say."
"I surely do, Clara. Already there exists a marriage contract between this charming woman and myself. Ere long she will hold to you the relationship of sister. Know her, then, that you may love her as a sister. Know her for yourself, that you may rightly appreciate her worth, and aid me in introducing her to our mother's regard."
Clara was too much surprised, and, in fact, confounded, to know what to do or think. As to calling upon Ella, she was not yet prepared for that. She wanted time for reflection. Her natural repugnance to doing so was very strong.
As soon as Doctor Baldwin and his sister had retired, the young lady upon whom they had called to make a morning visit, went into the back parlor and said to Ella, who was still bending over the book—
"I'm ready for my lesson now, Miss Hudson."
Ella laid aside her bonnet, and went to the piano with her pupil.
"You are acquainted with Dr. Baldwin," said the latter.
Ella replied by a simple affirmative. "Where did you meet him?"
"At my brother's wedding." Ella's manner expressed her wish that no further questions on that subject might be asked. But her superior and better bred pupil paid no regard to that.
"Your brother, Dr. Hudson? Ah, yes! Whom did he marry?"
"A Miss Lee."
"Lee! To what family did she belong? One of any note in the city?"
"I never felt interest enough in the subject to ask," replied Ella, rather coldly. "She was an orphan."
"Then you don't like her very much."
"Don't like her!" Ella's bright eyes were instantly in the face of her questioner. "I could not love my own sister better!"
The young lady felt the rebuke. She would have been as passive to all impressions as marble had she not.
"I suppose you have never met Miss Baldwin?" she said, after a pause.
"No."
"She was with him this morning."
Ella made no answer; but there was a warmer place upon her cheek. No more was said upon the subject.
When Ella Hudson went home that afternoon, after having given the various lessons required of her for the day, she had some different thoughts in regard to what she ought to do, than had before obtained a place in her mind. It occurred to her, that the position in which she now stood to Dr. Baldwin, made it incumbent upon her to have some regard to his feelings, as well as to the prejudices of his family, with whom she was soon to come into intimate relationship, and with whom she could not but desire to be united in affection. The prejudice existing in certain grades of society against all females who are engaged in useful employments, she well knew; and as this was a prejudice arising from a false education, and as she was to be introduced by marriage among those with whom this prejudice existed, she rightly concluded, after looking at the subject in this light, that it was best for her, as no real necessity existed for her continuing her duties as a music teacher, to give them up at once. For Doctor Baldwin to meet her, as he had done that morning, could not, she felt, but be unpleasant to him. And for his sister to meet her in the same way, could not fail to strengthen, rather than remove, prejudices in regard to her.
Perhaps, for the first time in her life, Ella saw that the prejudices of others are, under certain circumstances, to be regarded, and that expediency is not always a departure from right.
When her lover called upon her that evening, he said—
"I mentioned you to my sister to-day. She was with me at Miss Elbert's."
Ella looked at him without replying.
"As I expected, she was greatly astonished. The idea of my marrying a music teacher, seemed at first dreadful to her. But I made some little impression on her false ideas, though not as much as I could wish. If she could only once meet you and know you, all would be right. But the force of prejudice is very strong at present. Do you not think that it would be right for you to make some effort, even some sacrifice, to remove this prejudice?"
"I do, certainly."
"Your present calling is one that you must soon lay aside; and, besides, there exists no necessity for your following it. Occurrences like that of to-day are likely to happen frequently, and will hinder what I so much desire—the affectionate reception of you by my family. My mother and sister have true hearts, and when they know you will love you tenderly. But they have prejudices, the result of education, which stand in the way of their knowing you. Now, ought you not, who see so clearly, to respect their prejudices, and do what you can to remove them?"
"Without doubt. I have already been reflecting on the subject, and have come to the determination to give up all my scholars immediately."
"You have?"
"Yes. In justice to you and to your family, I think this ought to be done."
"Glad indeed, am I, Ella, that you have come to this conclusion! What you have been doing ennobles rather than depresses you in my eyes, and will in theirs when they come to know you as I do."
In a few weeks the prejudices of Miss Baldwin, under the constant assaults of her brother, were so far broken down, that she consented to call with him and see Ella. As the doctor had expected, she was more than pleased with her, although the meeting was necessarily attended with a good deal of formality and reserve. A second visit enabled the young ladies to approach nearer, and understand each other better.
Clara Baldwin, from being pleased, soon became charmed with the lovely girl, and no longer wondered that her beauty, grace, intelligence, and worth, had captivated her brother. She could not but acknowledge in her own heart that, for her sister, she would far prefer Ella to any one of the gay, fashionable girls with whom she was acquainted. There was so much goodness about her—so much regard for others and giving up of self. The old watchmaker likewise rose in her estimation, after a few meetings with him; and the mother of Ella proved to be something more than the vulgar woman she had set her down in her imagination. She could not help observing and being charmed with the natural politeness that distinguished the intercourse of one member of the family with another. It was not ostentatious—not assumed—but came as the just expression of the good will each bore to the other. Of the wife of Doctor Hudson, she could never get done talking to her brother.
"She will grace any circle," she said.
"She will be called to grace the most intelligent and accomplished circle in the city, or I am mistaken," returned her brother.
"Why so?"
"Because her husband will undoubtedly rise as high as any man of talents ever rose in this city. He is as sure to go up as the sun is to rise in the morning."
"You think so?"
"I know so. I should not be surprised to see him in the chair of professor of anatomy and surgery before five years. It may take place in less than that time. If the present incumbent in the school where he now is were to be removed from any cause to-morrow, I believe he would be chosen to succeed him."
"Is he so highly appreciated as that?"
"Yes, and by the very men who will have the power to elevate him when the right time comes."
CHAPTER XV.
PREJUDICES REMOVED.
THE mother of Doctor Baldwin was connected with a family of some note in the State, upon which fact she built up a pretty high estimate of her own consequence. For everything low and vulgar she had a most decided contempt, and would almost as soon be guilty of a crime as a breach of etiquette. Her son had good reason to fear that there would be some difficulty in the way of reconciling her to his marriage with a poor music teacher, when she had more than once expressed, in his hearing, the hope that he would not forget the advantages which his professional standing, as well as his family connexions, gave him in a matter of this kind. It was, in fact, the mother's wish that her son, in marriage, should, above all things, seek to better his fortune. He had himself entertained that idea; but, in a conversation he one day held with Doctor Hudson, was led to see that a man could not commit a greater folly than to make any consideration predominate over personal qualities in marriage.
How best to break the matter to Mrs. Baldwin was a subject of a good deal of reflection. At last, as time was pressing, Doctor Baldwin ventured upon the bold and above-board measure of telling his mother the whole story of his acquaintanceship with Miss Hudson, and of the engagement of marriage that had followed. The mother was overcome with astonishment and indignation. The noble independence and affectionate self-denial which Ella had practised, though portrayed by Baldwin in the warmest colors, made no favorable impression upon the proud woman's feelings, while the fact that she was the daughter of a poor mechanic, and obliged to teach music for a living, was magnified almost into a crime. Nothing that her son could urge in the least reconciled her.
"Don't talk to me about her, Edward!" she exclaimed passionately. "The low-born creature shall never darken my door!" This was more than Baldwin could bear; and to keep from making some retort that he would afterwards regret having uttered, he turned quickly away and left her presence. When they next met, both were cold and silent. Clara remained altogether neutral for the present, deeming it best to keep silence while her mother's mind continued in a state of over excitement.
On the next day, invitations were received by the family to attend a party that was to be given by a physician who was much esteemed in the community for his character, standing, and high professional attainments. Doctor Baldwin, who happened to be one of his intimate personal friends, immediately called upon him, and asked if he had included Doctor Hudson and his lady in the number of his guests.
"I have not," he said. "Our families have never met under any circumstances. But I highly esteem the doctor, and shall be happy to send him and his lady an invitation. Do you know his lady?"
"Very well. She is a beautiful and accomplished woman."
Doctor Baldwin then gave this physician a full history of Dr. Hudson's family, and of the fact of his having been so charmed with Ella as to fall in love with her and make her an offer of his hand.
"I hardly think your mother will approve of that," said the physician.
"No," replied Baldwin. "So far from approving, she is incensed beyond measure, calls her a low-born creature, and says she shall never cross her door."
"Then I should say that you are in rather an unpleasant dilemma."
"I am. And I want you to help me out of it, if possible."
"A thing that I shall be very ready to do, if you will point out the way. I have seen this Miss Hudson several times in families where I visit professionally, and have heard her spoken of as a girl of no ordinary character. You wish her invited, of course?"
"Yes, that is what I was coming to. I want her not only invited, but I want you to show her particular, even marked attentions."
"Very well. I understand what you are after. All shall be done as you wish. I think we shall make your mother change her opinion a shade or two."
And the physician smiled.
Before evening Doctor Hudson received a note requesting the pleasure of Doctor and Mrs. Hudson's and Miss Ella Hudson's company at the house of Doctor B—. The compliments of Doctor and Mrs. B— were expressed, of course. Though a little surprised, all the parties invited made preparations to go to the party.
When the evening came, Dr. Baldwin went with his mother and sisters. Since the first mention of the subject that had caused such an expression of indignation by Mrs. Baldwin not a word of reference had been made to it. There was, of course, coldness and reserve between the mother and the son.
The party proved to be a large one; and at least one half of those present were strangers to Mrs. Baldwin.
"Who is that on Dr. B—'s arm?" she asked of her daughter, about an hour after her arrival at the scene of pleasure. The doctor was conducting to the piano a plain, but tastefully attired young lady, in whose sweet young face there was something that to Mrs. Baldwin seemed particularly attractive.
Clara turned her eyes towards the lady, but instead of answering her mother's question, said—
"She's a stranger to most persons here, I rather think."
"Some relative of the doctor's, perhaps," remarked the mother.
By this time the young lady was at the piano, around which a small circle immediately gathered. She touched the keys delicately, yet with ease and confidence, and after running her fingers over them for a few moments, struck the air of a popular and favorite song, which she sang with fine effect.
"Beautiful! beautiful!" said Mrs. Baldwin, speaking to Clara. "I think I never heard a sweeter voice. I wonder who she can be? Do you know?" and she turned to a lady at her side.
"I do not, madam," replied the lady. "I don't remember ever to have seen her before."
The young lady sang one or two more songs, and then rose from the piano, and was received upon the arm of Doctor B—, who treated her with marked politeness. After conducting her to a seat, he introduced two or three gentlemen who came forward, and leaving them to entertain her, went to look after other guests who required his attentions.
"She sings exquisitely, doctor," remarked a gentleman who encountered Doctor B— as he was moving away from the lady.
"Delightfully," was replied.
"But, doctor, my daughter tells me that she is her music teacher."
"That's one side of the case," returned Doctor B—. "The other is, that she is the sister of Doctor Hudson, who is destined to be one of the most eminent surgeons in the country; and is, so far as herself is concerned, a lady in every sense of the word, and one that I feel proud to number among my guests. The world would be better, my friend, if there were more in it like Miss Hudson."
"Is she a woman of education?"
"She is highly educated, I am told by Doctor Baldwin, to whom she is engaged in marriage—"
"Engaged to Doctor Baldwin!" exclaimed the friend.
"Yes; I have it from his own lips. She has given up her music teaching—a calling that she followed more from her love of independence and usefulness, than from any necessity to do so—in view of her marriage with the doctor."
"Well, I'm astonished! I must own, however, that he is a man of taste and good sense."
"In which I perfectly agree with you."
The two men separated, and Doctor B— passed on to another part of the room. When cotillions were formed, Doctor B— led out Ella, and danced the first set with her.
"How gracefully she moves," remarked Mrs. Baldwin to Clara, who had declined dancing, she having her own reasons for wishing to keep beside her mother. "I wonder who she is? Nobody that I have asked knows her."
"What makes you notice her so particularly, mother?" asked Clara. "There are many other young ladies in the room whom you have never seen before. And some quite as beautiful as she is."
"But none with just such a face. It is so youthful and innocent, yet so womanlike in its tone. Several times I have found her eyes fixed intently upon me, with an expression that I felt, but could not understand. There are others as handsome, and few who do not make a more brilliant appearance; but none who have such a natural, unconscious grace."
"Really, mother," said Clara, smiling, "you have grown an enthusiast. If you were a young man, I think this would be a case of love at first sight."
"If I were a young man, and about to fall in love at first sight with any one in this room, it would be with her," said the mother, smiling in return.
"I saw Edward sitting by her side a little while ago, and looking into her face as if he had forgotten that there was anybody else in the room."
"Edward! Is it possible? Does he know her?"
"He was conversing with her. It would be no matter of wonder, if he feels as you do, if he were to fall in love with her."
"Pray Heaven he may!" said the mother warmly.
Just then the cotillion dissolved, and Mrs. Baldwin saw her son receive the young lady from Dr. B—, conduct her to a seat, and take his place beside her. She looked into his face with a familiar expression, and he seemed to be perfectly at home with her. At the same moment, Doctor B— came up to Mrs. Baldwin and her daughter, and the former said to him—
"What charming young lady is that you were dancing with just now? She is an entire stranger to me."
"She is a charming girl, sure enough," returned the doctor. "Shall I introduce her to you?"
"If you please, doctor. I will take it as a favor."
Doctor B— went over to where Ella was sitting, and said to her that Mrs. Baldwin would be happy to make her acquaintance. Ella arose and took the doctor's arm, while her lover, with some few tremors about his heart moved to another part of the room from which he could carefully observe them.
"Let me introduce to you my excellent young friend, Miss Hudson," said Doctor B—, presenting Ella. He purposely spoke the name so indistinctly that Mrs. Baldwin did not clearly make it out, and she was too well-bred to ask to have it repeated. Clara and Ella exchanged a look of intelligence that the mother did not observe.
"My daughter," she said, as the doctor, after seating Ella by her side, turned away. The young ladies bowed to each other, and smiled cordially.
For half an hour Mrs. Baldwin conversed with her future daughter-in-law on many subjects, and found her quite as interesting in reality as she was in appearance; and when some one claimed her hand for the dance, she let her go with reluctance. By this time there were a good many in the room who knew that Ella was engaged to be married to Doctor Baldwin, for the information volunteered by Doctor B— had spread with considerable rapidity.
"I really must congratulate you on your future daughter-in-law," said a gentleman to Mrs. Baldwin, whose standing in society was altogether as high as her own. "She is decidedly the most charming girl in the room. Edward has shown uncommon good taste and good sense. There are not a few who would have been fools enough to pass her by because she had once taught music, but Edward's independence has stamped him, in my estimation, as a man. May both be as happy as they deserve to be."
Some one touched the speaker on the arm, and he turned away without observing the blank look of astonishment that settled upon the face of her he addressed.
"What does he mean, Clara?" asked the mother, in a low, earnest whisper, turning to her daughter with a bewildered air.
"He means," replied the daughter, calmly, "that this lovely young girl, with whom every one is so charmed, is none other than Ella Hudson, and the betrothed of Edward."
"It cannot be!" returned the mother.
"It can be, and is, mother. And as the fact seems to be well-known in the room—it has just been alluded to as a matter of course—I think it will be much the wiser course if you show no surprise and no disapprobation at the discovery you have made, but rather resolve to receive this sweet, accomplished, lovely-minded young girl into your affections, as you would receive your own child. That she is worthy thus to be received, even you cannot now for an instant doubt."
"No, Ella, I cannot doubt it," returned the mother, after a pause of some moments for hurried reflection. "I did not dream that the humble music teacher and daughter of a poor watchmaker could be so love-inspiring a creature as this. That Edward was attracted by her is no longer a matter of surprise. I forgive him from my heart."
Not many minutes passed before Clara had found out her brother, and communicated the entire success of his plan for breaking down their mother's prejudice. He was the happiest man in the room.
CHAPTER XVI.
AN UPWARD MOVEMENT.
MUCH sooner than even his warmest friends anticipated, did Doctor Hudson rise to the professorship of anatomy and surgery; his predecessor having vacated the chair in consequence of some misunderstanding among the faculty, in which an implied censure was permitted to rest upon him.
Shortly after rising into this position, which greatly increased his income, Doctor Hudson, who had since his marriage continued to reside in his father's family, took a handsome house in Walnut street, and commenced housekeeping in a style appropriate to his condition and standing in the profession. At the same time, he proposed to his father to give up his business, and live at ease for the rest of his life. But to this old Mr. Hudson positively objected.
"Let me remain independent, my son," he replied, "while I have in me the ability to be independent; and let me serve my appropriate use in the community, as you are serving yours, while I am able to do so. I shall have a clearer conscience and be happier. When my ability fails, then it will be time enough for me to give up, and I will do it cheerfully."
The doctor tried to argue the matter with his father, but it was of no use. Mr. Hudson was not to be moved. He knew that he would be happier going on in the old way. It was too late in life to enter into a new occupation, or to learn the art of doing nothing—a wearisome employment at best.
Much as Doctor Hudson wished to see his father give up all business, and live for the remainder of his life at ease, his judgment could not but approve the decision he made.
The elevation of our young doctor to the chair of anatomy and surgery, was received by the profession and the public with marked approbation. The newspapers and medical journals spoke of the appointment as honorable both to the school and the individual who had been elected to fill the professorship.
In the city, Doctor Hudson was at this time well-known to the public by his eminent skill as a surgeon, and to the profession abroad by reports of successful and difficult operations which he had performed, but much more through the many able communications from his pen, which had appeared from time to time in the medical journals.
Some time before the occurrence just referred to, Ella had become the wife of Dr. Baldwin, and already the fact of her having been only a music teacher was nearly forgotten, or, if remembered, was thought of as honorable to her independent spirit, rather than as an exception to her standing in society.
It was rather a severe trial to the pride of Mrs. Baldwin to come into such near relationship with a poor old watchmaker and his wife as the marriage of her son with Ella necessarily brought her, and at her first meeting with them, it required the exercise of a good deal of self-denial to treat them with anything more than cold politeness. It did not take her long, however, to understand that she was not in the company of an ignorant, vulgar-minded woman, when she sat by the side of Mrs. Hudson; but with one of her sex whose mind, if not fashionably educated, had delicate perceptions of right and wrong, great penetration, and sound sense. It would not do, she felt, to assume any importance with her, from having moved in a different sphere, for this would not elevate but rather lower her in the estimation of Mrs. Hudson, for whom, in spite of herself, she felt a rising sentiment of respect. The father of Ella was a man of a character much more strongly marked than she had expected to find, and she noticed that men of education and known attainments, when they engaged in conversation with him, paid great deference to his remarks, and treated him with as much respect as they did any one.
"If he would only give up that old shop of his," Mrs. Baldwin said to her son, shortly after his marriage, "he could come into genteel society, and no one would ever suspect that he had been a mechanic. I wonder Doctor Hudson doesn't go to housekeeping in a handsome way, and take the old folks to live with him."
"It is his intention to do so as soon as he thinks his income sufficient for the purpose," replied Baldwin.
"Isn't it sufficient now?" asked the mother.
"He thinks not; and I suppose he ought to be the best judge in the case. But if I am not mistaken in the character of his father, he will find the old gentleman altogether opposed to such an arrangement. I have heard him say, that he considered every man in duty bound to pursue some useful employment so long as he had a sound mind and a hale body; both of which he possesses. Mr. Hudson is too independent in his habits of thinking and feeling, to consent to give up his business, while he can work at it; at least such is my opinion."
Mrs. Baldwin could not understand this; and when the fact proved the truth of the son's prediction, she was outraged at the old gentleman's "perverseness" as she called it.
But as time went on, and Mrs. Baldwin saw that her family had suffered no real disgrace, as far as she could distinguish, by the marriage of her son into that of the watchmaker, she became more reconciled and indifferent. Mrs. Hudson did not, as she at first feared would be the case, thrust herself at all unsuitable times, and on all unsuitable occasions, into her company. The fact was very different. Mrs. Hudson gave her no trouble in this respect; for she was by no means strongly prepossessed in her favor, and did not enjoy her society well enough to seek it very often.
CHAPTER XVII.
BITTER FRUITS.
SCARCELY had the honey-moon passed after the wedding of Lawrence Dunbar—which took place a few months after the elevation of Doctor Hudson to the chair of anatomy and surgery in the school—before the young lawyer's restless desire to know something in, regard to his wife's fortune, led him to ask her some questions on the subject. He was informed that Mr. Harrison, her guardian, had the entire charge of her property, and would give him all information on the subject.
"Of course the guardianship will now cease," said the husband; "since the law places in my hands all the powers that were conferred upon him."
"I presume it will," returned the wife, speaking indifferently.
"Shall I see him?" asked Dunbar.
"If you please." Still in a tone of indifference.
"What is the amount of your property; do you know?"
In spite of his effort to ask this question without evincing any particular interest in the answer, he could not help betraying, to some extent, what he really did feel; but whether his wife perceived it or not, was hard to tell.
"I never knew exactly," she replied, "but I think it was originally twenty-five thousand dollars. I suppose it has increased a little, as I have never drawn as much as the interest."
"Twenty-five thousand dollars!" exclaimed Dunbar, thrown off his guard. "Only twenty-five thousand dollars!"
"And pray, how much did you suppose it was?" asked the startled wife, through whose whole frame the words of her husband thrilled. She was instantly aware that he had been attracted by the hope of securing a large fortune, and as instantly she felt a strong sense of indignation. Her pride was aroused, and that with her was an overmastering passion.
Dunbar saw that he had betrayed himself, and he also saw, by the expression of his wife's face, that he had committed an offence not likely to be soon forgiven.
"I was informed that it was more," he said, speaking with forced calmness.
"By whom, pray?" Mrs. Dunbar's eyes flashed, and her voice was angry in its expression.
"Not by you, certainly."
"If you had inquired of me, there would have been less likelihood of your being led into error," said his wife, with an ill-concealed sneer, that made the very blood boil in the veins of Dunbar.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars!" he muttered to himself a few moments after, as he hastily left the presence of his excited and angry bride. "And is it for such a paltry sum that I have sold myself to this she dev—?"
He checked himself suddenly, in very shame, and repeated with much bitterness—
"Twenty-five thousand dollars! I can make that any year by cutting my cards aright."
It was many hours before the lawyer could think with any calmness upon the new aspect his affairs had suddenly assumed. For his wife, dislike and disgust assumed the place of a forced regard which he had entertained for her, as the representative of a handsome fortune. When he met her, on returning to his elegant home, she was cold, haughty, and reserved, in her manner towards him. Her head was not bowed in bitterness of spirit at the discovery she had made, but was held erect; and she looked at him with a stern, rebuking, imperious gaze, that aroused the worst passions within him. Neither of them referred to the morning's interview.
On the next day, Dunbar's mind was made up to go to old Mr. Harrison, and know the truth. He could bear the suspense no longer. Accordingly, he called to see him the first thing in the morning.
"I learn from my wife," he said, "that you are her guardian."
"I am. I was appointed under her father's will to take charge of her property, and to pay it over to her husband if she ever married."
"What is the amount of this property?" asked Dunbar.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars were left to her by her father at his death; the balance of his large property went to some distant relatives. Harriet's fortune has, in my hands, increased to thirty thousand dollars."
"Was she his only child?"
"Yes."
"Why did he not leave her more?"
"He had his own reasons, I presume," returned Harrison coldly.
"The thirty thousand you hold is to be paid to me, I understand."
"The will requires me to pay to the husband of Harriet the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars, with any interest accruing there from not already paid to the said Harriet. You are her husband, and of course you are entitled to her fortune."
"Yes, that is plain enough. When will you be prepared to arrange it?"
"That I have already done," replied the guardian, coolly.
"Already done! I do not understand you, Mr. Harrison."
"Did I not pay you thirty thousand dollars a few weeks ago?"
"Yes, but not on this account."
"And did you not then give me a receipt in full of all demands, past, present, and to come?"
The face of Dunbar became pale, and his lips quivered.
"Was it just in you, sir," he said sternly, "to take that advantage of my ignorance of your relation to my intended wife?"
"Was it just in you, sir," returned Mr. Harrison, with equal sternness, "to take a bribe for the betrayal of your client, whose cause you might have gained?"
"It was as right as for you to offer it," retorted Dunbar.
"You are answered," said the old man, coldly. "I have your receipt, and mean to hold it against you."
"But do you think I will not cite you before the court to answer in this matter?" returned the lawyer. "The receipt was fraudulently obtained and cannot stand. Its very tenor expresses its character. I will swear that you refused to pay me a sum of money due, unless I would sign the receipt you have produced."
"Very well, Mr. Dunbar, I will meet you, and require you to show, that this receipt was not intended to cover an anticipatory payment of this very legacy belonging to the woman who was to become your wife in a few days. What other transaction involving so heavy an amount would lie between us? This will, of course, be asked, and I will leave you to answer it to the satisfaction of the court; and I will take good care that the answer be fully reported for publication in the daily press."
Harrison looked the young lawyer in the face steadily, while he slowly repeated these sentences in a firm voice—
"I don't see that it will place you in any more favorable light than it will me," said Dunbar, after a moment's reflection. "If you are willing to brave public opinion, I think I needn't shrink from it."
"As you please," returned the old man, indifferently. "I rather think that I shall be able to make out a plain case for myself. So, if you intend going to law about this business, I hope you will begin at once, and be done with it."
"I am to understand, then, that you will not settle the estate of your ward according to the provisions of her father's will?"
"No: you are to understand that I have already settled it, and that I hold your receipt for the full sum thereof."
"A thing that I deny."
"A man may deny anything he pleases, and especially a man like you, who would betray, for gain, the interests of his client. No doubt your practice would vastly increase after the beautiful exposé that will be made when you sue for your wife's estate. You are the young man I heard it prophesied, some years ago, would rise in the world. Truly, you are going up with astonishing celerity."
"Mr. Harrison, I will bear insult from no man! not even from one as old as yourself," said the lawyer, passionately.
"Do I insult you? I presumed that you would take what I said as a compliment. But if you don't like my plain way of speaking, I think you had better leave me. I have no wish for a continuance of your company. I know you too well."
At this retort, the lawyer turned on his heel and left the presence of the man who knew him too well.
"The biter got bit that time. I thought I would be too sharp for him," said Harrison, smiling inwardly.
If ever a man was completely foiled in his purposes and dashed down to the very earth, that man was Lawrence Dunbar. Of the thirty thousand dollars received from Harrison, ten thousand had been paid to the opposing attorney as his accomplice in iniquity, leaving him but twenty thousand dollars as the entire fortune of his wife. This was a very different state of affairs from that which his imagination had been picturing. Seventy thousand with his wife, twenty thousand from old Harrison as the price of his integrity, and fifteen thousand dollars already earned and saved, would have made a hundred and five thousand dollars. Instead, he was worth just thirty thousand dollars, and ten thousand of that was locked up in costly household furniture that had already lost its beauty in his eyes. As to entering into a contest with Mr. Harrison, that he did not for a moment contemplate. It could not be done without an exposure ruinous alike to his character and prospects. The very thought of it made him shudder. It was bad enough that a man who entertained such a hearty contempt for him should be in possession of such a blasting secret, which, if even a whisper of it got upon the wind, would wither up his legal reputation and blast his hopes like the hot breath of a sirocco.
He was in no mood to meet the wife he had insulted by a betrayal of his base regard for her property, instead of her person. The air of his richly-furnished parlors, as he entered them, was cold; the house itself seemed deserted, and oppressed him with a feeling of desolation. He did not seek his wife; for he had no wish to come into her presence. He thought of her with something akin to loathing. And this was scarcely five weeks from the wedding day!
At tea time they met; cold, reserved, and even haughty in their demeanor towards each other. The wife felt that she had received an unpardonable insult, and the husband felt that he had been deeply wronged. All hope of bettering his fortunes by matrimony was now gone. He was united to one who was, to use his own words, a beggar. She had no attractions of beauty of which he might be proud; and no excellences of character to win his esteem or love. But, cold, repulsive, self-willed, and passionate, she united in her person all those qualities that repel and estrange a man.
The subject of her fortune was never again alluded to by them. She asked no questions, and he made no communication touching the matter. But Mr. Harrison took the pains to call upon her, and inform her that he had paid to her husband thirty thousand dollars, in accordance with the provisions of her father's will, and that he was no longer her guardian.