So much did this scheme grow upon me, that by another winter I was busy in putting it into execution. Thanks to the past energy of Aunt Helen, my house was already very nearly up to the mark as a model of luxury and taste. I gave a series of entertainments which I sought to make as distinguished and agreeable as possible. Upon a foundation of the most fastidious and well-bred of my acquaintances I cast a sprinkling of clever men who commonly found parties a bore, original but outlandish women, representatives of every sort of talent, local and visiting celebrities, and every desirable stranger in town. They all would be glad to come for once, I knew. The vital point was to induce them to come again. To effect this, I left no stone unturned and begrudged no expenditure. I found it somewhat up-hill work at first, but none the less were my efforts crowned with success in the end. My house grew to be the favorite resort alike of the fashionable and the cultivated; and to keep it so created an interest in my life which relieved the sombreness of my other occupations.
In the pursuance of this object I gave free scope to a taste which I had been educating in a quiet way ever since my youth,—that of collecting pictures. I had a room in the house admirably adapted for the purpose fitted up as a gallery, and in a short time had got together the nucleus of a valuable display of masterpieces. By degrees it came to be known that this was the case, and I found pleasure in allowing the public to see them on certain days.
One day I was puzzled by the arrival of a picture carefully boxed up and addressed to me, which on opening I discovered to be the portrait of me which Paul Barr had painted. In selecting material for my entertainments I had naturally thought of him among the first, but inquiry failed to discover his whereabouts. He had left town a few days subsequent to the harassing scene between us, and there were no traces of him beyond the direction on the door of his studio that all communications intrusted to the janitor of the building would ultimately reach him. To this address I sent several notes of invitation, hoping perhaps to catch him on the wing or lure him from retirement. But at the time the portrait arrived I had ceased to make further attempts. There was no note or card accompanying it, but the bold superscription left no doubt in my mind as to the donor. A few weeks later I was astonished and delighted at one of my receptions to see the artist-poet's massive figure towering above the other guests, and an instant later we had exchanged the most cordial of hand-shakings, attended on his part as ever by profuse gesture and compliment, and on mine by genuine good-will, which it was easy to see he reciprocated. He looked little changed,unless it were that he was handsomer and more extraordinary than formerly, and his presence caused much lively speculation as to the new celebrity I had unearthed. He had been abroad, studying and travelling,—and trying to forget, he added. The last he had found impossible, he said; but though he sighed as he spoke, I knew that his wound was healed. He was to resume his work at once; had brought back a host of ideas he was eager to put into execution, and was what he called "under the mastery of the twin demi-gods—necessity and aspiration."
Later I thanked him for his picture, which I told him, as was notably the case, artistic circles were raving over. Indeed, when I let it be known that the handsome stranger was no other than Paul Barr, whose genius was already celebrated, he received an ovation. Nor was it exhausted at my house. He was instantly taken up by the critics and by fashionable folk alike, to such an extent that I became apprehensive lest so much attention would detract from the merit of his new work. But though I feared from what was whispered concerning him that his temperament and habits were still mercurial, he had evidently studied to some purpose; for his pictures, theabandonof which would have shockedMr. Spence more than ever, became instantly the vogue, and brought him speedy fame and fortune. For both of these he persisted in considering himself indebted to me. I never ventured to run the risk of wounding his sensibilities by offering him anything for the portrait, although in a merchantable sense its value was excessive.
I have not spoken of my Aunt Agnes; but up to this time there was little to be said of her. She kept up the even tenor of her ways, which included a repellent air toward me for long after my father's death. She might have forgotten and forgiven the past, but in my choice of Aunt Helen as a companion I had added insult to injury. There was no open breach of course, but our relations were not cordial. I tried at times to ameliorate the situation by sending her presents, and trying to let her see when we met that I was still studious and anxious to lead a sober life. But all in vain. She was resolute in the belief that to have refused an offer of marriage from such a man as Mr. Spence was inconsistent with a serious desire for self-improvement. She doubtless was abetted in this view by Miss Kingsley, who continued to be intimate at her house despite her increasing appropriation ofMr. Spence. The philosopher was said to be more and more under her thrall every day, as I was informed by Mr. Fleisch whom I invited to several of my receptions. He told me he was himself no longer in harmony with Mr. Spence, or rather that the master could not afford to pay him a sufficient salary to warrant him in devoting his entire time to the doctrine of Moderation. His condensed music had not sold, and he had been forced, in order to support his wife and child (for he was married now), to adopt the old system of composition, and to give music lessons. This had caused a coolness on the part of Mr. Spence, who, as Mr. Fleisch expressed it, wished to have all or none. But though he was no longer the chief disciple, he held the master in the profoundest regard and affection. He assured me, with tears in his eyes, that nothing but the stress of absolute want could have induced him to sacrifice artistic truth to expediency, and that he stole hours from sleep that he might continue to carry on his investigations still. Here again I was able to be of some service, for I introduced Mr. Fleisch as a competent and conscientious musical instructor to a number of my friends, who seemed to find him all that I described. He played several of hispieces at my house with muchéclat, even including one of those which illustrated Moderation. But I noticed as he became more popular and prosperous that he seemed content to adhere to the conventional methods, and to avoid allusion to his former hobbies.
Though I sent cordial invitations to Mr. Spence to lecture at my receptions, he invariably declined. I sometimes fancied that it might be because I did not extend them to Miss Kingsley also. I judged from what I saw in the newspapers, as well as from what Mr. Fleisch told me, that the number of his followers was diminishing in spite of his most earnest efforts, and that Miss Kingsley was now his only really devoted supporter. The knowledge of this counteracted my scruples against her so far that I sent an invitation to them both, with the assurance that Mr. Spence's lecture should be the feature of the occasion. They accepted, not altogether to my surprise, and I did my best to select an appreciative audience. Mr. Spence looked worn and dispirited I thought, but as he warmed to his theme the light in his eyes seemed as vivid as ever. The sweetness of his tones was however unfortunately impaired by a heavy cold, and though I, being familiar withthe lecture,—"Tension and Torpor of the Nerves,"—felt some of my old enthusiasm, it was soon evident to me that the majority of his listeners were bored. The appearance of Miss Kingsley likewise created an impression that reacted on the philosopher. She was very much overdressed, and made a marked effort to carry the assembly by storm. She played the double rôle of a would-be arch coquette and hero-worshipper, and while chanting the talent of the lecturer, omitted no effort to secure admiration on her own account. There are always a few men who are amused for the moment by this sort of thing, but I could see the eye-glasses of the censors raised wonderingly, and the turned shoulders grow colder, as the evening advanced. I was sorry for them both, even for her; and not many days after, I wrote Mr. Spence a long letter, in which I referred to the great influence in the way of discipline which I felt his instruction had had upon me, and inclosed a check for a considerable sum, which I asked him to accept as a contribution towards endowing a school where lectures should be delivered on the leading features of Moderation. I cannot say that I did this without some scruples, on the score that I no longer had much faith in the soundness ofany of his ideas, but I condoned the weakness with my conscience by debiting the amount to charity. After all, he could not do much harm by his teachings, and I hated to think that a man so earnest as he should know the bitterness of total failure.
But my kind intentions met a cruel rebuff. On the following morning I received a formal note in Miss Kingsley's handwriting, which stated that Mr. Spence had desired her to say that it was impossible for him to accept the money, and that she was my "obedient servant, Lucretia Kingsley." My attention was called by a friend the same day to a long item in the "Sunday Mercury," which while extolling the lecture of Mr. Spence at my house, and announcing that among the guests was the "authoress Miss Kingsley, who wore, etc." contained a disagreeable comment on what was called "the lavish luxury and lack of discriminating reverence for the best sentiments of the day, which characterized the principal parlors."
The next time I went to see Aunt Agnes I received an explanation of this conduct, though my name had appeared once or twice before during the past few years in uncomplimentary paragraphs. She upbraided me at once with arenewed attempt to divert the attention of Mr. Spence from his labors to myself. Miss Kingsley had come to her with tears in her eyes, and described the Babylonian influences by which I had sought to seduce him. He had gone, she said, at the call of duty to accomplish what good he might, but never in the whole course of his professional experience had his words fallen on a more flinty and barren soil. And then, as if it were not enough to flaunt in the face of my old master the extravagances most hostile to the theories of which he was the advocate, I had sought to tempt him with money to become a perpetual presence at my immoderate receptions.
"Bah!" exclaimed Aunt Agnes in the ardor of her indignation, as she finished the account of Miss Kingsley's narrative,—"bah! Trying to lead a sober life! Tellme! I hear on all sides that your house has become a hot-bed of all that is worldly and luxurious in the city. And not content with that, you are scheming to corrupt the one who in this money-worshipping age is faithful to principle. I am almost disposed to say for the last time, 'Go your own ways, and never come near me again.'"
"Do not say that yet, Aunt Agnes. Wait alittle," I answered, genuinely moved by the distress of the old lady.
"If I were to wait until doomsday it would be still the same. You are no longer a child; and though you have Harlan blood in your veins, I am beginning to feel that I have wasted my best affections on a worthless subject. If you were my own daughter, I could not have been more unhappy on your account. Thank Heaven! I shall soon be in my grave."
I left the house feeling very much like crying, for the mood of Aunt Agnes was less defiant and more pitiful than usual. It seemed as though her iron spirit had yielded at last to the repeated opposition of an unkind world. And of those who had resisted her wishes and commands I was certainly among the chief. I had tried, was trying now, to live what she liked to call a sober life,—but all in vain, so far as winning her approval. Was there no way in which I could make her happy, and smooth the stern frown from her features before she died? I would certainly make the endeavor; and under the influence of this determination I revolved with a freshened interest as I went along the street the circumstances of a curious incident that had befallen me a week ago at Mr. Chelm'soffice. So absorbed was I that I did not notice the approach of Mr. Spence and Miss Kingsley until they were close upon me. I bowed with politeness; but though the philosopher hesitated, he turned his pale face away and looked in another direction. As for Miss Kingsley, she regarded me with a cold and haughty stare, as though we had never met.
Theincident to which I have vaguely alluded was the result of an arrangement between Mr. Chelm and myself, that the door connecting our offices should be left ajar during the visits of his clients, except where privacy was important. In the latter case he was very careful, of course, to close it; but unless he did so I had his permission to listen to what was said. This soon became my favorite diversion, and I even came to the office for the purpose on other days than my usual one. A great many strange people came to consult Mr. Chelm, and I thus picked up a stock of miscellaneous information about business matters as well as some new ideas regarding human nature. Sometimes when the visitors seemed particularly interesting I would venture to peep round the corner or through the crack of the door, so as to catch a glimpse of them. Afterward Mr. Chelm often told me more about them, and in instances where pecuniary aid could be of service allowed me tocome to the rescue; for there were numerous persons who resorted to him for relief, knowing that he was a charitable man who had helped others. If he had the leisure, he always lent a sympathetic ear to their stories, and if he could not aid them was uniformly kind and considerate.
I was struck by the number of applicants for employment. "Give us something to do, and we can get along. We want work, not money," was the too frequent petition, for it was just this class of persons whom Mr. Chelm found it most difficult to assist. So many of them too were educated and intelligent young men and women, unaccustomed to hardships and to shift for themselves, driven out of work by the continued hardness of the times. For nearly five years business had been at a stand-still, Mr. Chelm told me, and as a consequence property had depreciated sadly in value, and an immense amount of distress been caused among people of moderate means. To many a tale of destitution I thus listened with tears in my eyes, and on more than one occasion was able to procure at least temporary occupation for the sufferers.
One morning as I was thus sitting hoping for some client to arrive, I saw through the half open door a young man dressed in the heightof fashion,bien ganté, bien chaussé, and attended by the very ugliest bull-terrier it had ever been my lot to gaze on, enter Mr. Chelm's office. I had by this time learned to divine usually the errands of clients before they began to speak, and I made up my mind that this handsome young dandy—for he was extremely good-looking to boot—must be the heir to some large estate which he wished to intrust to the care of Mr. Chelm, or that he had got entangled with an actress, and was in search of legal aid to release him from the meshes of the net. In either event I expected to have the door closed in my face, and the stranger's secret to remain sealed from me forever. I placed my chair however so that I should be screened from observation and yet within earshot, prepared to see and listen as long as should be possible.
The visitor drew a card from a very dainty case and laid it on Mr. Chelm's desk.
"My name is Prime, sir,—Francis Prime. I have come to consult you on a business matter."
"Pray sit down, Mr. Prime. What is it I can do for you?"
"You knew my father, I think?"
"Ralph Prime, of New York? Most assuredly. I had a high regard for him."
"I am his only son. He died, as you may be aware, five years ago in reduced circumstances, because he preferred to remain honest. An odd erratic choice, was it not?"
"I was sorry to hear he had been unfortunate," answered Mr. Chelm quietly.
"Yes, sir, paradoxical as it may seem, my father was an honest man. One might have supposed his only son would inherit that trait, if nothing else. But it must have skipped a generation. I am not what I seem. I am a sham." He sat in silence for some minutes stroking his mustache.
"I judge that you have got into some difficulty, Mr. Prime. If so, I am very sorry to hear it. Be frank with me, and as your father's friend I will do what I can for you. But as a lawyer I must ask you to conceal nothing." So saying Mr. Chelm made a move as if to close the door.
"Pray, do not trouble yourself, sir. My story is already known to so many people that privacy is immaterial. Let me, instead, ask permission to light a cigarette,—that is, if you do not object to smoking and are sufficiently at leisure to hear me to the end."
"Certainly. Make it a cigar and I will join you; and pray try one of these if you will, formy time is quite at your disposal," answered Mr. Chelm, who it was evident to me was amused and puzzled by his visitor.
"Thank you." He settled himself comfortably in his chair, and after a preliminary puff, said: "I am no ordinary felon. I am even not, strictly speaking, amenable to the laws. I am however, as I have told you already, a sham. The world believes me to be a young fellow of fortune, whose only concern is with the cut of his coat and the smile of his mistress. The world for once is in error. I am nothing of the sort. Appearances are against me, I admit. Even you I fancy were deceived. No, my dear sir, while every one judges me to be a mere butterfly of fashion, I am an idealist at heart. And the worst of it is that no one will believe me. All that I want is a chance, an opportunity to prove I am that which I claim; but nobody will give it to me. If I venture to suggest that I am in earnest, the statement excites sneers or ridicule. For nearly two years I have been trying to find something to do, and without success. I have exhausted my own city, and have now come to yours. Your name was familiar to me as one which my father respected, and it occurred to me to tell you my story. I am quiteprepared to be informed that there are a thousand applicants for every vacancy, and that such a case as mine is not especially deserving. In one sense of the word you would be right; there are others who suffer more acutely than I, but few who suffer more unjustly. And the whole cause is to be found in a single phrase,—I am a gentleman."
"You are indeed to be pitied," said Mr. Chelm, with an amused laugh.
"And what is more, it is not my fault. I am not responsible for it; I was born so. My case is precisely opposite to that of most of my contemporaries. They find it easy enough to get occupation, but very difficult to be gentlemen; I know how to behave like a gentleman, but can find nothing to do. Gentlemen are evolved, not made. Would to Heaven I had been consulted on the subject! But I awoke one day and found myself what I am. Let me rehearse to you briefly my qualifications. I was sent to school abroad, and was graduated from college at home. I speak fluently three modern languages besides my own, and have a bowing acquaintance with two dead ones. I have read widely enough in history, political economy, literature, science, and music to be superficial. Ican write verses, play on the piano and flute, fence, flirt, and lead the cotillon. All this the public seem to recognize and give me credit for; but when I ask them to take me seriously, as they would the veriest beggar in the street, the frivolous look incredulous and giggle, and the practical frown and point me to the door. And why? Simply,—and this will, it may be, anticipate your criticism,—simply because I wear well-fitting clothes, address a lady with gallantry, and change my coat for dinner. Let me add at once, if you have no assistance to offer as to how I shall find employment except to go from office to office with a long face and baggy trousers, I must respectfully decline to take the step. It has become a matter of pride with me: I draw the line there. Call it volatile, foolish, obstinate, what you will,—I propose to be a gentleman to the last. I will starve with a smile on my face and a flawless coat on my back, though it be my only one. As I have said, gentlemen are evolved, not made; and we owe it to our sons to keep up the standard of the race. They will not even allow, sir, that I am an American. I am received with scorn, and denied my birthright, not only by those to whom I apply for work, but by the Arabs of the streetand the public press. I am not complaining; I am merely stating the facts of the case. They even cast Ike in my teeth,—Ike the imperious, beautifully ugly Ike," he added, stooping down to pat the bull-terrier, who showed his teeth and growled affectionately. "Now, Mr. Chelm, you have my story. I am in earnest. Will you help me?"
"I can understand your difficulties to some extent, Mr. Prime, and am not altogether without sympathy for you," began the lawyer gravely, after a short reflection. "The times are hard for everybody undeniably, and especially for young men in your position. It is a comparatively easy matter to draw a cheque to alleviate distress, but finding work for anybody to-day is next to impossible. However, as one can never tell what may turn up, let me ask you a blunt question. What are you fit for? What can you do?"
"Here again, sir, the world would tell you that I was fit for nothing except to play the lute beneath a lady's window. But if you will believe me, I am not without business knowledge. Gentleman as I am, I have long cherished an ambition to become a merchant prince (it is well to aspire high),—a genuine merchant-prince, however, and not the counterfeit article whoaccumulates millions for his children to squander. I have views upon the subject. I am an idealist, as I have told you, and there was a time when I thought my father very rich, and that I should be able to carry out my theories. Since then I have resolved to win back before I die the fortune he lost; and with a view to that I devote several hours in each day (if this should be breathed abroad, my reputation for consummate emptiness might suffer) to the study of exports and imports, markets and exchanges, and all that relates to commercial affairs. You asked me what I am fit for, Mr. Chelm. My father was a banker. I should like to follow in his footsteps. But supplicants cannot be choosers. Procure me a clerkship in any line of business, and I shall try to prove myself worthy of your patronage."
"Humph! I wish I could help you, with all my heart. But, frankly, I know of nothing at the moment. Bankers are discharging their clerks, not engaging new ones. I will make inquiries however, and see if it is possible to do anything for you. You have applied to all your friends in New York, you say, without avail?"
"Entirely. The few who have any faith in my professions are powerless to give me employment."
"Let me see: to-day is Wednesday. Can you call again on Saturday, Mr. Prime? Mind, I promise nothing. In fact, I have every reason to believe that I shall be unsuccessful."
The appointment thus made was due to my touching the electric bell in my office,—a signal agreed upon as an indication of my desire to assist any applicant for aid. Accordingly, when I entered Mr. Chelm's room after his visitor was gone, I was greeted with a bantering smile.
"How now, my fair philanthropist! What scheme have you to relieve the plight of this knight-errant?"
"In the first place," I said, "who is he? Do you believe his story? What sort of a person was his father?"
"Three questions in one breath! The last is the easiest to answer. This young man's father was one of the wealthiest bankers in New York fifteen years ago. I knew him well: a man who was the very soul of honor, shrewd and liberal in his business notions, and in his bearing the pattern of a finished gentleman,—one of your genuine aristocrats; and, like his son, a bit of a dandy. He came to grief, as so many of us do, through misplaced confidence. Certain parties whom he trusted implicitly made a wreck of hisentire fortune. It was said at the time that he might have saved a large portion of it, had he been willing to take advantage of a legal technicality as against his creditors. But, as his son said, he preferred to remain honest. He died not many years ago, and left this boy very little, I fancy, but an untarnished name. Of the son I know really nothing. I have never seen him before. He is not unlike his father in appearance, and is even more fastidious in his dress. That may be from bravado, of course. What he says about gentlemen not having a fair chance in this country has a certain amount of truth in it."
"A great deal of truth, it seems to me," I answered.
"Very likely. But it is to be borne in mind that the so-called gentlemen have a heavy score against them in the past. They have had their innings; and now that they are out, democracy is not disposed to let them off too easily. The sins of the forefathers being visited on the children is a proverb as stable as the hills in its logical results."
"Yes. But do you not think it is cruel to turn the cold shoulder on a man merely because he dresses well?"
"Undoubtedly. But they have themselves to blame for it. The world has not yet got accustomed to the idea that a man with a flawless coat on his back means to do anything. Not so very long ago such a thing was unknown. I am willing to admit that when the gentlemen consent to work, they make the best workers; but the burden of evidence, as we lawyers say, is on them."
"The world refuses to believe because it is envious. There isn't one of the business men who decline to give Mr. Prime a chance who wouldn't give half his fortune to be like him if he could."
"You are a philosopher as well as a philanthropist, young lady, I see. You may not be far wrong. But if Mr. Prime knew what a champion he has, he would cease to despair. You asked, I think, if I believed his story. It is quite evident what your opinion is," said Mr. Chelm, with a laugh.
"Very well then, I do believe it; and I want to help him."
"Romance against the lawyers, ha! ha!"
"I am a very determined young person when I make up my mind. You cannot laugh me out of it, Mr. Chelm."
"Heaven forbid! But what do you propose to do?"
"Give him a chance."
The lawyer rubbed his chin reflectively. "I am perfectly willing to resign in his favor, but otherwise I know of no vacancy either in your or my gift to fill," he said with a smile.
"I cannot spare you yet. I have another plan."
"And that?"
"A very romantic one, as you have predicted. I propose to set him up in business."
"As a gentleman?"
"He is that already. No, as a banker."
"Indeed!"
"What do you think of my idea?"
"I have heard only the beginning of it. It is natural enough to feel the inclination to set a handsome young man up as a banker; but I fail to comprehend yet the details of the scheme."
"I shall leave them to you."
"To me? But I regret to say, Miss Harlan, that I know of no banking-house at present that would employ the services of this embryo merchant-prince."
"Oh, but you don't or you won't understandme. What I propose is to found a banking-house, and furnish the capital myself."
"What!" Mr. Chelm leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. "This is romance with a vengeance. Would I were twenty-five, and in search of occupation! And what, pray, is to be the name of the new concern?—Harlan and Prime; or Virginia Harlan and Company? I am confident it will be a partnership for life."
"Francis Prime and Company, of course. I will not submit to be laughed at, Mr. Chelm. This is a serious business matter."
"Oh, most certainly! Thoroughly business-like in every sense! My dear young lady, if you expect me to preserve my legal gravity you must not be so humorous; it is beyond the self-control of even a fusty conveyancer. And what part in this financial idyl am I expected to play!"
"You are to arrange it all. I am to furnish the money, and remain strictly incognito. That is the first and essential condition I impose."
"What! Mr. Prime is not to know the name of his benefactress?"
"On no account whatever!"
"He will be sure to search the earth until he finds her."
"Not if he be made to believe she is ancient and homely. Besides, how is he to know it is a woman?"
"Forgive me, Miss Harlan, but no one except a woman could invent such a project. It fairly takes my breath away. How much of your capital do you propose to embark in the enterprise,—the whole four millions?"
"No, Mr. Chelm, I am not utterly irrational yet. That is one of the points I mean to leave to your discretion. I merely insist that he shall not be scrimped. I do not think, however, that I care to advance over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? And still you talk of discretion!"
"Is not that enough?"
"Enough! Why, certainly not. If you are bent upon the plan, at least put it through handsomely, Miss Harlan. Let him have a cool million at once, and be done with it."
"I know, of course, that this must seem very quixotic to you as a business man, Mr. Chelm," I continued after a moment's reflection. "Very likely you think I am merely jesting. But I am not. I am perfectly serious. I want to helpMr. Prime. I was very much interested by what he said, and I believe he is in earnest. The plan that I have just suggested seems to me entirely feasible. Even supposing that I lose a couple of hundred thousand dollars, what then? It is a year's income at the worst; whereas, on the other hand, if the scheme prospers, and he turns out to be"—
"A merchant prince," interrupted Mr. Chelm. "Yes, a merchant prince, as I believe he will,"—
"You will be married, and be happy ever after, as in other fairy stories."
"Nothing of the sort, Mr. Chelm. My conclusion of the affair is much less sentimental. In case events result as I hope and predict, I shall be thankful that I have given him a chance to put his theories into practice. You may remember that he said he had theories regarding the use a rich man should make of his money."
"It strikes me you are willing to pay pretty dear for the probable value of the information, even if matters turn out as you expect. But the money is yours, Miss Harlan, not mine; and if you are resolved upon being generous in this wholesale way, it is not for me to complain. We lawyers get conservative as we grow older, and any romance that may have been in usdries up, like the sap in trees that have begun to outlast their usefulness. We know how hard it is to earn an honest living; and when we see any one in whom we have an interest developing a taste for imprudent speculations, we instinctively utter a protest. Still, as you say, it is but a year's income; and maybe the cheapest way in the end to teach you reason is to humor this expensive fancy. If the money is lost, you will never miss it; while, assuming that this young man is all your imagination paints him, I know of nothing that would give me greater pleasure than to see you happily married. That is a romance to which I would say 'Amen' with all my heart."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Chelm. But I will not obtain your connivance on any such terms. If you regard this as other than a purely business enterprise, I warn you that you will be wofully disappointed."
"I shall have to take my chance of being right, just as you are going to take yours. But come now, since you insist upon my treating this matter seriously, what is it that you wish me to do?"
"Everything, Mr. Chelm."
"Even to giving away the bride? You must promise me that, eh! Miss Harlan?"
"With pleasure."
"It is a bargain then. Command my services as you will,—I wish I could say my capital also. But unfortunately I cannot afford to toss away my hundreds of thousands like some people. But that is an aside. Tell me what you wish me to do. I am all ears."
"To begin with, when Mr. Prime returns on Saturday, I should like you to inform him that you happened by chance to mention his predicament to a friend of yours."
"Of which sex?"
"That is entirely immaterial. But if he should happen to inquire, I shall depend on you to preserve my incognito. You must even fib a little, if it is necessary."
"Mercy on us! This romantic young philanthropist talks of fibbing, as if it were the most simple thing in life. No, Mademoiselle, we lawyers never fib. If we are ever obliged to forsake the narrow pathway of truth, we tell a square, honest lie. But this is positively my last interruption."
"You are to tell him that this friend of yours was very much interested in his endeavors to find something to do, and sympathized with his determination to wear a smile on his face andavoid baggy trousers to the last. That I—I mean of course the friend—am willing to give him the chance for which he asks to prove himself a man, by placing in your hands a sufficient sum to found a banking-house of undoubted solvency. He is to have complete control of this money, on which he may pay interest if he chooses, in order to satisfy your business scruples, Mr. Chelm; but he need never pay it back unless he wishes to do so,—the particulars of all which you will understand how to arrange better than I can tell you. Some day in the dim future, when he has realized his ambition,—for don't imagine for an instant, Mr. Chelm, that I expect him to make a fortune all at once,—he may return the original loan if he sees fit. I shall be an old woman then, and should, it may be, have less objection to being known as his benefactress than at present. Let me see: is there anything else to say? As to the name of the firm, it ought to be Francis Prime and Company, I presume; but the 'company' must be a man of straw. He is to receive no outside help, not even from you. There, I think I have made my wishes sufficiently plain."
"You do not desire him to give security for whatever you may advance? Not a very business-like arrangement. But as for that, the whole scheme is the most Utopian I ever heard of. These women, these women! It makes a prudent man tremble to think what would become of the universe if they had full sway! But I must submit, I suppose. I have given my word."
"I fear he has no security to offer unless it be Ike, the beautifully ugly Ike; Ike the imperious! Do you suppose he would part with the animal? I took rather a fancy to him, didn't you Mr. Chelm?"
"Nay, there I shall put down my foot. I will have no dogs in this office. 'Love me, love my dog' is a maxim to which I could not subscribe even in your case. No, unbusiness-like as it is, I prefer to make the loan without security."
It may be easily imagined that during the next few days I was on tiptoe with expectation. Let it be said at once, that I was quite aware that I was about to commit what might fairly be considered a folly by prudent-minded people. The chances of my goose proving a swan were altogether too slight to justify the extravagance I proposed. But despite this I never once wavered in my resolution, nor suffered doubt to mar the mirror of fancy in which I chose to behold my protégé fulfilling the ample measure of his ambition in the years to come. What an absorbing interest it would be to me to watch from behind my mask the progress he made! If he proved successful, I could feel that part of the creating power was mine; for had I not trusted him? Let a man realize that there is some one who has faith in him, and the battle is half won. Even suppose he were to prove the recreant and the impostor predicted, the world would not be able to jeer at me; I could hug my wretched secret, and none would be the wiser. Decidedly, I was to be envied in the acquisition of this new interest. It would be almost like having a double self, for was not my hero pondering over the same questions that were constantly in my thoughts,—how a rich man was to spend his money? With this difference, however: his ideas were already settled, whereas mine were in process of formation. I was to share with him my fortune, and he would enlighten me in turn. Perhaps also there was a shade of irony in my reflections, and I was eager to see if he would find the rôle of a merchant-prince so easy to play as he seemed to fancy. Then, too, there was a delightful element ofuncertainty and mystery about it all. I was original; I was not copying every one else. Although of Mr. Prime in a personal sense I scarcely thought at all, there was a romantic flavor to the episode that stirred my imagination.
So gay and light-hearted did I feel that Aunt Helen noted it, and alluded to the fact with pleasure as we sat together on the Friday evening previous to Mr. Prime's return.
"I have good reason to be. I feel very happy to-night. I could dance until morning, or do anything equally frivolous and erratic," I answered mysteriously. She looked up with an anxious expression. "No, Aunt Helen dear, I am not engaged. It is nothing so dreadful as that. It is merely that I think I may have found my mission at last."
"Mission! What does the child mean? Don't tell me," she cried with a sudden access of horror, "that you are going out to convert the Indians, or to do any peculiar thing like that. That would be the last straw!"
"Try again," I said laughing.
"You gave me a scare, Virginia! You are such a strange girl, that, though you are more like other people than you used to be, I cannever feel quite sure of you. If it isn't that you are engaged, or going to do something odd, what is it, dear?"
"Nothing, Aunt Helen. I was merely romancing a little, that's all. As you say, I am a strange girl, and very likely what I am thinking about is all a delusion, and may never come to anything. I may wake up any morning and find it is a dream. But let your mind rest easy; I am not contemplating anything that will isolate me from society."
"I should hope not, I am sure, after your last experience;" and I heard her mutter to herself as I went out of the room,—"Mission? Why does she want to bother her head about a mission? I shall never feel perfectly safe until I see her well married."
I haddecided to be present at the second interview between Mr. Chelm and Mr. Prime, for several reasons. I was curious to have another look at my beneficiary, and I had an impression that Mr. Chelm might feel his legal conscience prick him, and so spoil the plot, if I were not within earshot. When the interview took place, however, the lawyer took a mild revenge by toying with his visitor a little at first, as though about to give an unfavorable answer; and I shall never forget Mr. Prime's expression when the true state of the case was made known to him. After sitting in silence for a moment as though endeavoring to grasp the facts, he gave a short incredulous laugh, and stooping down to pat Ike, said nervously,—
"Is this a joke? A ghastly practical joke?"
"It sounds like one, doesn't it?" said Mr. Chelm; and he grinned from ear to ear. "I fancy, though, that you are not in a mood to be trifled with. No, you have fallen on your feet this time, young man. What I have told you is all true."
"Do you mean to say that your friend wishes to advance me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to found a banking-house?"
"Precisely."
"But I have no security to offer."
"I have already told you that no security will be required."
"Excuse me—eh—but is your friend of sound mind?"
"I don't wonder you ask, ha! ha! But I am compelled to answer yes. My friend is a philanthropist. That may make matters clearer."
"It is like a fairy story, isn't it Ike? Let me rehearse the conditions again, so as to be sure I am not dreaming. With this loan, which I shall never be called on to pay back unless I choose, I am to establish in New York the house of Francis Prime and Company. I am to devote my energies, first, to becoming abnormally rich; and after that simple result is accomplished, to carry out the theories I have as to how one in that position should live. Meanwhile, I am to pledge my word never to divulge the circumstances of this interview, and on no pretence whatever to seek to discover the name of the person to whom I owe my good fortune. Have I omitted anything?"
"You have stated the case exactly."
"Humph! I should like to ask a single question. Is my benefactor a man or a woman?"
"Another question like that would justify me in withdrawing the offer," answered Mr. Chelm with gravity. "My client wishes to have no identity whatever. Come, sir, my time is precious. I await your decision."
"The proposal is so sudden and unexpected. To ascend in a twinkling from the depths of despair to the summit of hope, leaves one a trifle bewildered. But you are right. I have no claim on your time. You want an answer."
He laughed again in a nervous manner, and stroked Ike.
"I do not wish to hurry you unduly. I have a letter to write, which will take me a few minutes. Think the matter over until I have finished."
"Thank you. I will. But since I have imposed upon your good nature so far, do me one more kindness, Mr. Chelm. What is your own opinion in this matter? Do you advise me to accept?"
I listened eagerly for his reply. It was in his power to spoil all.
"Really, I feel embarrassed how to answer.As I have already implied to you, the proposition strikes me, as a lawyer, as being the most preposterous piece of extravagance I ever heard suggested. I will tell you frankly that I tried my utmost to dissuade my client from making it. It is thoroughly unbusiness-like and absurd. That is my view of the matter from a professional standpoint."
"I see," said Mr. Prime.
"But," continued Mr. Chelm,—and here he stopped and gave an amused chuckle,—"it is a rare chance for a young man, a rare chance. My client will never mind the loss of the money, and would feel genuine disappointment, I know, if you were to decline. This being the case, and feeling as I do that you are in earnest in your desire to succeed despite your aristocratic tendencies, I am tempted on the whole to urge you to accept the good fortune which is thrust upon you. It is for my client's sake as much as for your own that I advise this, for I can see that she has set her heart—"
He stopped short. There was a dead pause, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.
"Well!" he exclaimed, "I have let the cat out of the bag with a vengeance this time. A lawyer, too. Pshaw! It is too bad!"
"That settles it," said Mr. Prime, quietly; "I cannot accept now at any rate. It would not be fair to your client."
"Not accept? Of course you will accept. Nonsense, nonsense! It is all my fault, and you shall have the money now if I have to pay it out of my own pocket. Besides," said Mr. Chelm with voluble eagerness, "there is very little harm done after all; and to prevent misunderstanding, I may as well make a clean breast of it. My client is an eccentric maiden-lady of sixty-five, with a lot of distant relatives who bother her life out while waiting for her to die. I am her only intimate friend, but even I cannot prevent her from doing all sorts of queer things in her taste for sentimentality. You see, poor woman, when she was very young she had a lover of just about your age (she wears his portrait perpetually in a locket about her neck), who died. He was in business, and doing very well. Several times already, on this account, she has helped young men who were in straits; and when I told her your story, and what you were ambitious to do, she clapped her withered old hands together and said, 'I will give him a chance, Mr. Chelm, I will give him a chance! He reminds me of my Tom.' And that is howit came to pass. There is the long-and-short of the matter. Accept? To be sure you will accept. It is all my fault. I will make it right with her. It would break her heart if you did not. So, no more words about it. I have all the necessary papers ready."
Mr. Prime was patting Ike more abstractedly than ever. As for me, I sat aghast and overwhelmed. The next few seconds seemed an eternity.
"Well, young man?"
"Please to write your letter, Mr. Chelm, and give me time to think."
"Not a bit of it! The letter can wait. Say you accept, and be done with it!"
"Very well then, I accept. We are gentlemen of fortune, Ike, and you shall have a new silver collar to-morrow."
It is not necessary to describe the details of the interview further. An hour elapsed before the final arrangements were made and Mr. Prime left the office. He was to start in business as soon as possible, and make frequent reports of his progress to Mr. Chelm. Meanwhile I sat within hearing distance, and occasionally took a peep at them from my coign of vantage. I could perceive from Mr. Chelm'smanner that he was pleased with the tone and alertness of the other in putting matters into shape. He had shown me beforehand certain letters which he had received in answer to inquiries made regarding Mr. Prime. In these he was spoken of as a young man of irreproachable character but strong social tastes, which, while consistent with his own statement of what the world thought of him, did not serve to re-assure Mr. Chelm as to the success of my experiment. So it was consoling to me to see his expression continue benignant as he listened to the young banker's notions.
When at last Mr. Prime was gone, I indulged my hilarity freely at my friend's expense. "A lawyer, too!" I cried, when I could speak. "Your reputation in my eyes is ruined forever."
"I have no excuse to offer. It was a dreadful slip, Miss Harlan."
"The slip was unpardonable of course; but it was an accident. No, what I refer to, Mr. Chelm, is the marvellous invention by which you sought to conceal it. I fully expected to see the floor open, and some demon carry you off amid smoke and sulphur."
"I never stick at a trifle like that," laughedhe. "But didn't I do the thing well? He believed every word of it. And what is more, Miss Harlan," he added seriously, "it would have been a great pity to have let him decline. He is a likely young fellow. I smell wedding-cake in the air already."
"You forget, Mr. Chelm," I answered, "that I am an eccentric maiden-lady of sixty-five. You have ruined any material there may have been out of which to manufacture a romance."
This turn of affairs took place a few days before the unpleasant scene with Aunt Agnes occurred, to which I have alluded, and I found that it absorbed my thoughts and tended to counteract the despondency produced by her displeasure and the injustice of her friends. All through the remainder of the season I awaited with eagerness the monthly reports sent by Mr. Prime. He was established, and cautiously feeling his way. But necessarily there was little to tell; a fortune cannot be made in a minute. However, I cherished every word of encouragement as so much vindication of my faith; and I came by degrees to feel as though Mr. Prime's new enterprise were my own business, and that my reputation for sagacity were dependent upon his success.
And yet, as I have already implied, Mr. Prime was nothing to me except so far as he represented an instrument of my will. It was not in him that I was interested half so much as in myself. In order to satisfy my curiosity, I even planned in the spring a trip to New York with Aunt Helen, and delighted my eyes with a glimpse of the sign-board over the spacious offices of Francis Prime and Company. But on that day it was veritably a glimpse that I got, for I was too timid to take a deliberate scrutiny of what I had come to see, owing to the fact that every one I met stared at me; and then too I was momentarily upset by perceiving over the way just opposite, in great gilt letters, the rival sign, as it seemed to me, of "Roger Dale, Banker and Broker." Mr. Dale I had not seen for several years, but I knew that he was living in New York, where he had not long before married an heiress of obscure antecedents, according to rumor. That it was he I had little doubt; and though the fact of his having an office in the same street could not of course affect, either for evil or otherwise, the interests of my protégé, I had an indefinable feeling of dread at perceiving they were so near to one another. It was therefore doubly necessary for me to be careful in mysubsequent expeditions down-town, not only to dress in such a quiet unfashionable manner as not to attract the attention of passers, but so as to escape recognition from my former admirer.
After the first impression of unpleasantness I felt a little added zest on account of this element of risk, especially when on inquiry I learned that Roger Dale was rated as one of the most successful and enterprising of the younger banking firms in the city. I saw his advertisements in the newspapers, and gathered from current talk that he was doing a large and lucrative business. I was glad to know that he was happy and prosperous at last, for he had failed once before leaving home, though I never heard of it until a long while after; and under the influence of this mood any vestige of ill-will that may have been lurking in my mind died away, and I came to regard the rival sign with perfect equanimity from behind the thick veil by which I concealed my features. Instigated by a spirit of caution to make my disguise as complete as possible, I purchased at a cheap clothing-store some garments that did much towards rendering my personal appearance the very opposite of stylish. I even tried to give them a soiled and worn aspect, by means of experiments at home, sothat I might pass for a female clerk or needy bushel-woman, and be free to pursue my investigations unobserved. In this guise I spent a number of days in wandering about the business streets of the city, attentive not only to what went on in the offices of Francis Prime and Company and Roger Dale, but to the countless sights and sounds of bustling trade, which I experienced now for the first time. At first I did not dare to appear too frequently in the street which was the centre of my interest, but a dangerous fascination led me to become bolder and more adventurous as I became familiar with the surroundings. From under the obscurity of arches and from behind pillars I noted daily who entered the doors of the new firm, and endeavored to get an idea of the amount of business that it transacted. In this respect I was somewhat disappointed, for although customers were by no means lacking, there was a dearth of patronage as compared with that enjoyed by the banking-house across the street. During the morning hours there was an incessant stream of people coming and going up and down the marble steps of the great building on the first floor of which were the offices of Roger Dale; and by far the larger proportion of this number went no farther, for I could see themthrough the broad plate-glass windows, chatting and grouped about a coil of tape that ran out with a snake-like movement into a basket on the floor. There were ladies too who drove up to the door in their carriages and were shown into the back office, and who when they came out again were attended by Mr. Dale himself, bowing obsequiously. He was stouter than when I saw him last, and quite bald; and he had a different suit of a prominent check-pattern for every day in the week. He seemed immensely popular with his customers, and was slapped by them on the back incessantly, and most of them he slapped back in return. But toward certain individuals he adopted a quite different style of behavior; for he listened to what they said with deference, gave them the most comfortable seat in the office, and opened the door for them when they went away. These I judged to be capitalists and men of influence, whose business he wished to secure. Some of them never came again, but others would return in the afternoon and be closeted with him for hours.
To all this I could not help giving attention, for it was forced on me, as I have indicated, by way of contrast to the style of business that was done by the firm to which my faith was pinned.Indeed I felt badly sometimes, and wondered if it could be that my hero were lacking in enterprise and what the world calls "push." But as I observed more closely, I dismissed this suspicion as unjust; for I began to note that one or two of the grave, important-looking men whom Roger Dale treated with so much suavity, were much more frequent visitors over the way. Besides, the plate-glass windows were very small, and it was next to impossible to see what went on inside. Mr. Prime always stayed at his office until nearly six o'clock, and once or twice he was still at work at his desk when the darkness drove me home. In these afternoon hours the street was nearly deserted, and sometimes I ventured close up to the window and peered through. I could see him in a little inner office, writing and poring over papers and accounts. Once while I was thus occupied, a policeman greatly alarmed me by tapping me on the shoulder and observing roughly, "Now then, young woman, move on."
After this I felt the necessity of using more discretion; and lest this narration may prejudice the judicious too strongly against me, let it be said that I passed in all only some eight or ten days in this manner during the six weeks AuntHelen and I were in New York together. Perhaps, however, this was due somewhat to the difficulty I found in evading her eagle eye, for owing to the necessary changes in my dress I had to invent some excuse commensurate with such a dilapidated appearance. As excursions among the poor twice a week could not seem improbable, I let them account for the plain stuff-gown and unfashionable hat that I wore on the occasion of my down-town visits, and limited myself accordingly. Aunt Helen really shed tears at first because I looked so like a guy; but when I represented to her that it would be cruel to flaunt silks and satins in the faces of those to whom such luxuries were forbidden, to say nothing of the risk one ran of being insulted if gaudily attired, she withdrew her objections. "But only think," said she, "if any of your acquaintances should see you rigged out like that! It could not fail to strike the Honorable Ernest Ferroll as exceedingly peculiar at the best."
AlthoughI had striven to keep our visit to New York a secret, it was hardly to be expected, in view of my quasi celebrity at home as a society character, coupled with my Aunt's eagerness for amusement, that our presence would long escape detection. As a fact, before the end of the first week we were inundated with invitations, many of which it was impossible to decline; and I finally gave up the struggle, and suffered myself to become a facile tool in the hands of my friends after night-fall, reserving merely the day-time for my financial investigations. I was the more willing to submit to this social demand, because I had a hope that I might meet with Mr. Prime at some of the houses to which we were asked. But though I constantly recognized, with a sense of danger that was yet delicious, faces that I had become familiar with down-town, his was never among them. I made no inquiries, but the mystery of his absence was finally explained.
"Miss Harlan," said my hostess to me at a brilliant dinner-party, "I had hoped to be able to present to you this evening my friend Mr. Francis Prime, who is altogether charming; but he writes me that he is not going anywhere this winter: he has in fact given himself up for the time being to business, and cannot break his rule even for me. Everybody is laughing over the idea of his doing anything except make himself agreeable. As he isn't here, let me tell you he is the worst flirt in town; and we all rather hope he won't succeed, for he fills his niche to perfection,—which is paying him a high compliment, I think. But there are other attractive men in the world besides Mr. Prime, and I am going to ask you, by and by, to tell me your opinion of our new Englishman, who is to take you in to dinner. He is only the Honorable Ernest Ferroll at present, but when his uncle dies he will be Duke of Clyde, my dear, andon dithe is looking for a wife."
I found the Honorable Ernest decidedly agreeable. He had a fine figure, was six feet high, with blue eyes and a luxuriant chestnut beard. In his thirty years he had lived and travelled everywhere, reserving the States, as he called them, for a final jaunt preparatory tosettling down. He was making merely a flying trip through the seaboard cities after a preliminary canter at Newport, previous to doing California and some big hunting in the "Rockies;" but later he intended to return and spend a season in New York and Boston society. His name was, for the moment, on every one's lips, and there was much quiet maternal inquiry as to how long the old peer was likely to last; for the Honorable Ernest was said to be rather short of money.
"He has a fine forehead, and if one likes beards, his is certainly a handsome specimen," said Aunt Helen ruminantly, as we were driving home. "I have no fancy for them myself, but it is always possible to shave them off; that's one comfort."
I divined of whom she was speaking, but made no response.
"How did you like him, Virginia?"
"Mr. Ferroll? I found him very entertaining," I replied.
"I thought he seemed decidedly impressed by you. He scarcely kept his eyes off you all through dinner. I don't blame him, for you were looking your best. Duchess of Clyde! You might do worse, Virginia. They say he is anxious to marry."
"So Mrs. Tremaine informed me."
"Did she really? That was very amiable of her, especially as you are a stranger, and there must be plenty of girls in whom she is interested, who are setting their caps for him. I could not help thinking at dinner what a handsome pair you would make."
"One would suppose you were in earnest from your serious tone, Aunt Helen."
"And so I am, so I am, quite in earnest. Of course I should wish to know a little more definitely about him before anything final was arranged. But from what I hear, there can be no question in regard to his title. If there were the slightest suspicion of anything out of the way concerning it, he would never have been at Mrs. Tremaine's, who is a very particular woman, and knows what she knows. He seems, so far as I could judge, to be a manly, right-minded young man. He told me that he shot three tigers in India, and I observed that he took scarcely any wine at dinner. It won't do though, Virginia, to dilly-dally, for I am given to understand that he leaves in a fortnight for California, to explore the West. But he is coming back to spend several months next winter, and if you do not throw cold water on him now,he may feel disposed to run on to Boston, in spite of the efforts that will be made to keep him here."
"I feel very certain," said I, "that he will come to Boston for a few days, as he has letters to Aunt Agnes."
"To your Aunt Agnes? What do you mean, child?" In her astonishment I thought she was going to bounce out of the carriage.
"I don't wonder you are surprised. Yes, the first question he asked was if I were not the niece of Miss Agnes Harlan, of Boston. It seems that she and his father made an ocean passage together a great many years ago, when they were both young, and the acquaintance has been kept up by correspondence ever since."
"Mercy on us! Your Aunt Agnes has never said a word to me about it."
"The Honorable Ernest's father is quite literary, and has written one or two books on philosophy, his son says."
"That accounts for it, of course. Well, well! to think of your Aunt Agnes being intimate with one of the nobility, and having never mentioned the subject! I have always given her credit for being an agreeable woman at bottom, if one could only forget her eccentricities. Butthis is extremely fortunate for you, Virginia. To be sure, there is no knowing how your Aunt will receive him, she is so hostile to every one who is not as queer as herself. But she must see, if she is not a fool, what a very advantageous match this would be for you. It could do no harm just to drop Mr. Ferroll a hint to humor her a little, and seem fond of serious subjects at the start, for if she should happen to take it into her head to ask him to stay at her house it would be very convenient."
These sentiments were frequently reiterated by Aunt Helen during the remaining weeks of our visit, and it must be allowed that the attentions of the Honorable Ernest soon justified her urgency, seeing that she really believed it was a matter of vital importance for me to become the future Duchess of Clyde. Nor was I at all sure myself, that if nothing else turned up I might not be tempted by the brilliancy of such a position. Not that I thought about it quite so definitely; but I was conscious of the exceptional advantages incident to high rank in England, to the extent that I did not treat his gallantries with marked indifference. I let him reveal himself for what he was, which is not possible without a certain degree of intimacy. Beneathhis conventional ways I discovered a great deal of energy and decision. He was well-read, and had his own opinions. On many of the days when I did not go down-town, I took strolls with him in the Park and elsewhere. We discussed all sorts and kinds of subjects. We did not often agree, but that rather added to the interest of our intercourse than otherwise. I was a curiosity to him, he said. He complained that I was too radical and visionary in my ideas, and that I was quite different from his conception of American girls. To be sure, he said, I was ready to do things,—that is, go to walk with him, and banish Aunt Helen when he called; but he had been told that American girls knew nothing about politics or any serious matters, and were principally interested in the study of their inner consciousness as affected by man; whereas I was perpetually taking issue with him on questions of government policy and pauperism, driving him into holes in regard to the value of an hereditary nobility and the dis-establishment of the English Church. Women at home were not like that, he said. The men told them what to believe, and they stuck to it through thick and thin; but voluntary feminine ratiocination was the rarest thing in the world among his countrywomen. As forhimself, he was a conservative,—a conservative without money. Money was all he needed to build up the splendid estates of Clyde, which had been slowly decaying for this lack during two generations. His chief ambition was to retouch and refurbish the broad domain of his inheritance, so that its lordly manors, ivy-mantled abbeys, and green meadows might know again the peace, poetry, and prosperity of an ideal English home. There would then for the lord of Clyde be happiness and romance equalled by none on earth. For, eager to benefit his fellow-men, he would have within the radius of his own estate a hundred cabins to call in play his invention or humanity; and with one's conscience at rest, he said, could there be a purer joy than to wander with her of one's choice under the ancestral elms of old England, with the September moon o'erhead?
This was the Honorable Ernest's dream; but to realize it, he must make money. He had come to the States, so he told me when we grew more intimate, in order to seek it. There were great chances in the far West for a shrewd man with a little capital, and to find some investment that promised large returns was the real object of his journey thither. Already, even since his arrival in New York, he had done extremely well.There was a smart (so he had heard him called) young fellow who had put him into several profitable speculations: very likely I might know him,—Roger Dale was his name; every one said he had made a lot of money, and was one of the coming men of Wall Street. I was kindly to consider this as a confidence, for he did not care to have it noised about that he was other than an idler here.
The Honorable Ernest Ferroll's attentions, as I have implied, grew apace from the evening of our introduction, and soon attracted remark. There was an instant recognition of the fitness of the match even from the most envious, and Aunt Helen was the recipient of numerous congratulatory innuendoes. The circumstance of his delaying the date of his journey a week confirmed the general impression of his serious views, and even I began to feel some pangs of conscience on the score of allowing him to fancy that if he did come to the point I should accept him eagerly. In contemplation of this emergency I felt that it was time for me to go home. We both would then have six months in which to think it over. When he should return from the West, it would be time enough for me to come to a decision as to whether I desiredto re-gild the poetry of his English home. I was certain that if he insisted on an immediate answer my reply would be unfavorable. But I much preferred to defer any definite proposal; and accordingly, with all the tact at my command, I tried to avoid giving him an opportunity of being left alone with me for any length of time, without making it noticeable to him. Finally, as he seemed likely to become unmanageable despite my precautions, and as he put off again and again his day of departure, I resolved to take refuge in flight.
When I communicated this to Aunt Helen she said I was crazy. The idea of returning home just on the eve of realization seemed to her preposterous; she would not hear of it. But I was equally firm, and announced my intention of leaving on the morrow.
But before I went, I wished to have one more glimpse of the condition of the banking-house of Francis Prime and Company; and in order to make my scrutiny as thorough as possible I planned not to return until dark. I was curious to get a close look at my hero, and this seemed most feasible when he was leaving the office for the day. At that time there would be little likelihood of any one noticing me, if I stood by the door as he came out.
The afternoon passed without incident, save that I saw the Honorable Ernest Ferroll go into Mr. Dale's office, where he remained some time. He happened to meet me face to face on the street, but I justly had acquired by this time complete faith in my disguise. He betrayed no sign of recognition, and the flush that rose to my cheeks was a badge of quite unnecessary alarm. The hours slipped by, and the street grew still. The gas was lighted in the inner offices, and few but clerks, figuring up the profits or losses of the day, were left down-town. It was getting dark, and I was growing impatient. I sat down in the door-way of the building next adjoining, to rest. I had purposely made myself look as dilapidated as possible, and the natural presumption in the mind of any one would have been that I was friendless and needy, for I felt tired enough to make a weary air very natural at the moment.