"Happier she with pliant nature,Fleeting, fickle as the wind—She who proving one a traitor,Turns to meet another kind."
"Happier she with pliant nature,Fleeting, fickle as the wind—She who proving one a traitor,Turns to meet another kind."
Lovibond.
Markham was certainly a man of talent in his profession; but it does not follow that because he understood law, he was therefore versed in a knowledge of all the vagaries of the human mind. He was a straightforward, regular, honest-minded man, knowing what he had learned, and capable of learning quickly; but there was much in theworld that he knew not, and had never suspected. By this was he occasionally deceived, but not a second time by the same means. Being a modest young man, and supposing that the most confident of the softer sex must be more diffident and retiring than the most diffident of his own sex, he had not the most distant suspicion that Miss Henderson had any design on his heart. Many young men, far below Markham in all that is truly reputable in moral feeling and intellectual discrimination, have frequently fancied that individuals of the softer sex have entertained towards them sentiments of love and affection, and have even made advances. This was a feeling which Markham was much above: he had indeed heard such language made use of by young men of his acquaintance, but he gave them credit for a little exaggeration or a large share of imagination; he never thought it possible that there could be any literal and actual truth in such language. Now the common impression on the human mind is, that the thing which is impossiblecannot be; and therefore whenever that which we think to be impossible does actually occur, we almost doubt our own senses, and believe any thing rather than that our notions are incorrect. Markham accordingly could not by any means be brought to believe that Miss Henderson was forming designs upon him; and therefore when he paid his promised visit to the popular preacher, he was most completely off his guard as concerns the designs and intents of Miss Henderson.
He quickly perceived that this young lady was the most important personage in the family; that Mr. and Mrs. Henderson were not affectionately fond, but parentally proud of their eldest daughter. Such is the notion that some persons seem to entertain of the progress of intellect, that multitudes of parents consider their own children as wiser and more knowing than themselves. And when a parent has expended a serious sum of money on the education of a child, it is rather desirable and happy for him that he can enjoy the imagination that the money has not been thrown away, but that it has abundantly answeredthe purpose. This feeling Mr. and Mrs. Henderson both enjoyed as it related to their eldest daughter. Mr. Henderson himself was not much of a reading man; indeed, he had no time for such pursuits. It was enough for him to write fine sermons, and to visit fine folks, and to give occasionally some lessons to young ladies or gentlemen on geography and elocution; for which no mighty extent of reading was required. He therefore thought his daughter exceedingly well informed. And as the young lady was by no means selfish or incommunicative of knowledge, her tongue was in pretty constant activity, especially when and where she desired to produce an effect, and this desire she felt very strongly and very frequently.
From the intercourse which had for a while subsisted between Miss Henderson and Clara Rivolta, the former had acquired many ideas and opinions, and had treasured many quotations and criticisms from the latter; and some of these notions, especially the critical, Clara had derived from Markham. When Markham therefore heard these sentimentsand opinions from Miss Henderson, he was, to say the least, somewhat pleased. He had not the slightest suspicion of the source from whence Miss Henderson derived her knowledge, or acquired her taste: and when people express the same opinions which we ourselves entertain, we naturally and very justly set down these people as being very sensible and well-informed. So did Markham think that Miss Henderson was a very accomplished and well-instructed young woman; and as with young critics talking is contagious, these two young persons prated away most intemperately. All the popular writers and all the popular productions of the day underwent a strict and critical discussion.
From talking of books and literature, the conversation went on to the abstractions of philosophy and that common-place kind of prate which knowing young ladies and intellectual dandies can easily manage and repeat. In their views of human nature the two young persons seemed also to agree perfectly well, so that they were astonished at their own and at each other's wisdom. Miss Henderson expressed herself sodelighted with a little rational conversation, and lamented that it was so seldom that she could enjoy such a treat as this. The flattery was rather fulsome, but it took. Markham was entirely of her opinion, that the enjoyment of intellectual discourse was a high and refined pleasure. He also wished that he could enjoy it more frequently. Miss Henderson did not directly but indirectly insinuate that nothing could afford her higher pleasure than conversing with Markham.
Among other topics of discussion there came on of course a dissertation of theatrical exhibitions. Here again the parties coincided. The popular actors, singers, and dancers, had their usual allowance of criticism. It was unanimously agreed that the Opera was the only place of public amusement worth visiting; but Mrs. Henderson thought it was too expensive a pleasure: fortunately, however, Markham had the use of an ivory ticket admitting two persons; and what should prevent Miss Henderson from availing herself of that very ready way of gaining access to the Opera? A time was presently fixed for Markhamto have the honor of accompanying Miss Henderson to the Opera. This was a great point gained by the young lady; and now she thought that nothing was wanting but to let Mr. Markham understand that there was no obstacle which need prevent him from having as much of Miss Henderson's intellectual conversation as he pleased.
It was at this point of her acquaintance with Markham that Miss Henderson sent in her resignation of Mr. Tippetson: there was not, therefore, quite so much disinterestedness in the matter as at first sight there appeared to be. The changing of the objects of affection is sometimes painful; but Miss Henderson was so much accustomed to it, that to her it was a trifle. It is a valuable acquisition to learn so perfectly the art of transferring the heart: for life is short, and youth is shorter still; and if the affections be very pertinacious, and the memory obstinately adhesive, a great deal of time is lost after a disappointment; but Miss Henderson took care never to lose any time in that way.
Markham, had he been asked his opinion of Miss Henderson, would probably not have been able to give a very definite answer; for the truth is, he had not taken the trouble to form an opinion; he had been entertained with her talk, and also entertained with her capacity for listening, for he was especially well pleased to hear the sound of his own voice: therefore, Miss Henderson's company was not unpleasant or wearisome to him. But he had never thought of her as he had of Clara Rivolta, nor was it likely that he should, even though she might have the same opinions on matters of taste and literature as Clara: for there is a wide and visible difference between the utterance of thoughts borrowed from others and the expression of the results of personal and individual reflection; just as there is between the music of a barrel-organ and that produced by the fingers of a master. Markham's indifference rendered him a better object for Miss Henderson's attention. He was not on his guard against her ingenious mode of progressing into terms of intimacy and acquaintance. Now, if Mr. Henry Augustus Tippetson had been as generous and liberal towardsHoratio Markham with respect to Miss Henderson, as Miss Henderson was to Clara Rivolta with respect to Mr. Tippetson, it would have tended considerably to open the eyes of the young barrister, and to put him upon his guard. It is very cruel in young ladies to take such advantage of inexperienced and unsuspicious youths as Miss Henderson took of Horatio Markham.
The young gentleman found himself most unaccountably often at the house of Mr. Henderson. He found that he was received with the greatest cordiality, and that the children, the little brothers and sisters of Miss Henderson, were quite as familiar with him as if he were absolutely related to the family. Markham was not treated as a stranger, but he was described and spoken of as "Only Mr. Markham," "Nobody but Mr. Markham." And this continued and proceeded for several weeks; and all that Mr. Markham thought about the matter was, the Hendersons were a very sociable family.
The ivory ticket to the Opera was in constant requisition. Markham offered it to Mr. Henderson that he might accompany his daughter; but Miss Henderson generally so contrived that something prevented pa from going, and then there was no alternative but Markham must go himself. Unfortunately, Miss Henderson was acquainted with the Italian language, so also was Markham. And notwithstanding the publicity of the situation, Miss Henderson would never spare Markham's blushes when any expression of peculiar tenderness or pathos occurred. The young lady's figure, though not very striking or unusual, was yet so set off by dress as to be rather particular. Her means did not keep pace with her appetite for dress; and as she could never spare one single article of finery, she generally carried her whole stock of decoration about her person every time she went to the Opera. In a very short time she was known and remarked for the singularity of being so very fine, and always appearing with the same finery. Some of Markham's acquaintance who were by birth and connexion a grade or two above him, but whorespected him for his good-humor and talents, would occasionally join him, and look very strangely and inquiringly on the young lady who accompanied him. Sometimes they would banter him on the loss of his heart; but it was so gently done, that he, unconscious of such loss, would not understand the allusion.
As Horatio had been first attracted to Mr. Henderson's chapel by the fame of his eloquence, and had thus been led into an acquaintance with the family, and as Miss Henderson generally contrived to procure frequent visits to the house, and as Markham had not much time to spare, it came to pass that he very seldom went to any other house than to Mr. Henderson's. As also, Miss Henderson had made up her mind that nobody but herself could be a proper and fit companion for Markham, and that nobody but Markham could be a proper and fit companion for herself; it so happened, that Mr. Markham and Miss Henderson were much more frequently together than the poor young man was aware of: thereupon, very naturally, the subject began to be talked of by theirrespective friends and acquaintance. Every body said that it would be a most excellent match for Miss Henderson; and the parents of the young lady received the congratulations of their friends and neighbours on the fine prospect that was opening in the projected marriage of their daughter with a young gentleman of such promising talents, and honored with such high patronage as Markham.
The young gentleman was much to be pitied that he was thus placed in imminent danger of being disposed of without his own consent. Being a man of principle and honor, he could not think of retracting even from an implied engagement; and being very partial to that species of homage which he received from Miss Henderson, his assiduous attentions were so very remarkable that all the observing friends of the parties took it for granted that an engagement was already formed or soon would be formed between them: so that although no actual promise had been given, it was considered by the young lady herself and her particularfriends that a virtual promise had been given, which to such a man as Markham was as binding as any form of obligation whatever. If any of our readers be surprised that a man of good understanding should be thus duped, and led on step by step into such a dilemma as this our unfortunate friend is here represented to have been, let them consider that the best understanding in the world cannot see or apprehend any object to which its attention has not been directed; let them also consider that Markham was young and of unsuspicious temper, and not much versed in what are called the ways of the world: all indeed that he knew of the world was that it was round, and flattened at the poles, and that it turned round from west to east, so that the sun appeared to move from east to west; and a few other particulars which had come to him in the way of geographical instruction, formed the sum total of his knowledge of the world: let it be again considered that he was not insensible to approbation, but that his appetite for praise was somewhat acute, and that he was not by any means averse from display and exhibition of his own literary acquirements. Thisdisposition of mind is sometimes laughed at; but notwithstanding all its apparent littleness and weakness, it often prompts to great and valuable efforts, whereby the individual mind receives benefit, and whereby benefit also accrues to society. The existence and operation of this feeling is recognised by all nations, not excepting those in the highest state of civilisation. Rome conquered the world by ingeniously flattering its military heroes; and what are statues and ornamented marble monuments, but a lesson to the living rather than a reward to the dead; and powerful indeed must that feeling be which is gratified even by an anticipation of those honors which may be paid to the unconscious dust. If then the thought of cold flattering marble can raise such heroism and inspire to such diligence, surely the flattery of living lips and the commendation of the fair form of youth and beauty may be allowed to have an influence over the mind of a young man, unsuspicious of the selfish and individual object for which those praises are given.
These considerations may account for Markham's being so situated with respect to Miss Henderson, as to be her constant attendant. What else could he have done? They had spoke of the Opera; he had an ivory ticket, and made the offer of it; but two of Miss Henderson's family could not contrive to go at once, and there was no alternative but for Markham to offer his services and accompany the young lady. He could not but call at the house again; and if Miss Henderson would introduce the subject of the opera, and if she would talk in language of high commendation of the opera next to be performed, surely the young gentleman could not refuse, or omit to invite her to a second, and so on to a third and fourth opera. And as Miss Henderson was by no means disagreeable or unpleasant in her manners, but was, on the contrary, of pleasing address, and had a musical and pleasant intonation of voice, he not only attended her to the Opera, but was also very attentive to her there. Almost every body knows that an immense mass of words may be uttered, manifesting neither great wisdom nor great folly; and if thesewords be uttered by a person whom we take to be wise, we think there is wisdom in them; and if uttered by a person whom we think a fool, we can then discern folly in them. Now as Markham belonged to a profession which tells us that every man is presumed to be innocent till he is proved to be guilty, he perhaps considered that every woman is presumed to be wise till she has been proved to be a fool; and as Miss Henderson had not yet proved herself a fool, all her chattering and prating and second-hand sensibility passed off very well.
"Pardon the slowness of my visit, friend,For such occasions have detained me henceAs, if thou knew'st, I know thou would'st excuse."May.
"Pardon the slowness of my visit, friend,For such occasions have detained me henceAs, if thou knew'st, I know thou would'st excuse."May.
The season was far advanced when Mr. Martindale came to town with his family. Lady Woodstock and her daughters made their appearance at the same time. Mr. Henderson's chapel was fuller than ever. All the world was flocking to hear him; and while he was exhorting his hearers tohumility, his hearers were presenting to him the incense of adulation, and were flattering him into vanity with all their heart and with all their strength. This was not as it should be; but it was as it was, and as it ever will be.
Mr. Martindale was not much given to flattery; but he liked Mr. Henderson as being a kind-hearted and worthy man, who preached fine sermons not so much to gratify his own vanity as innocently to please fastidious ears. It was Mr. Martindale's habit, whenever he liked or approved any person or thing, to insist upon it that all his friends and acquaintance should like and approve the same; and if by any accident or caprice he changed his sentiments from liking to disliking, then he wondered that any one could have so little taste as to like or tolerate the same. This kind of despotism he exercised over all his acquaintance except Signora Rivolta, who rather governed him. But so it was that Signora Rivolta, notwithstanding her Catholic faith, did not unfrequently attend Mr. Henderson's chapel.
The day after Mr. Martindale arrived in town was Sunday; and on that day the old gentleman went to Mr. Henderson's chapel, and was accompanied by Clara. Markham was there also, and for the first time since his return to England had the pleasure of seeing Clara. Pleasant indeed we may hardly call it, excepting so far that it was agreeable to gaze upon a lovely good-humored countenance; but there were recollections and associations not altogether pleasant. There was also the mortification of seeing Clara attended by a young gentleman of great apparent assiduity of manners, who was on mighty good terms with himself, and looked as if he thought that he was on as good terms with the rest of the party. People ought not to stare about in church time, but they will; there is no preventing it. Even Mr. Henderson himself, who frequently expressed his sense of the impropriety of so doing, could not help, while his assistant was reading the prayers, looking at the door every time it was opened to see who was coming, especially if carriage-wheels were previously heard. We give this as a gentle hint to our readers, not that we think it will do much good; but if wewere to refrain from giving good advice on the ground that it would not be taken, how mute would be the tongue of exhortation; and what a number of excellent moral treatises, which now issue from the press in various forms, would cease to delight their writers and profit their publishers! Besides, it is always worth while to give good advice, if it be only for the pleasure of thereby looking wiser and better than the rest of mankind; and if any evil arises from the neglect of it, how pleasant it is to say, "Did not I tell you so?"
How much Markham heard of Mr. Henderson's sermon on the morning when he first saw Clara at the chapel is not known, but we may take it for granted that it was not much. Nor was Miss Henderson quite so attentive as she should have been. Her eyes, and her thoughts too, wandered very much. She could not help feeling what she called some tender emotions at seeing Tippetson so very attentive to Clara; and she could not help feeling a little alarmed at observing the interest with which Markham gazed at the young lady, and the apparent jealousy with which she imagined that he also gazed at the young gentleman with her. Now it wasvery well both for Clara and Miss Henderson that the former did not recognise Markham, or there perhaps might have been in her countenance some indications of a feeling which Miss Henderson would not at all have approved of. It was very generous of Miss Henderson to make over to Clara one of her admirers, or more properly speaking her admireds; she could not possibly afford to give her another so soon. When service was over, Markham was moving almost instinctively and unconsciously to join Mr. Martindale's party; but Miss Henderson by some contrivance, most ingeniously detained him, and from that moment began to be somewhat jealous, and thought that it would be highly proper to contrive by some means to let him know, that after all the attentions which he had paid to her, it would not be handsome or generous to forsake her. Markham, totally unconscious and quite unsuspicious of all that was passing in Miss Henderson's mind, very placidly suffered himself to be engrossed by her, and very quietly and calmly walkedhome with her after church was over. As they were walking together, the young lady took the opportunity of sounding Mr. Markham on a very interesting topic.
"Are you at all acquainted, sir, with Mr. Martindale and his family?" inquired Miss Henderson.
"Yes," replied Markham, "I know them very well; I was not aware they were in town, or I should have paid my respects to Mr. Martindale; he was a very kind friend to me before I left England, and he expressed a wish that I would call upon him on my return. Do you know them?"
"I did once," said the young lady, with a very peculiar and pointed emphasis on the word 'once;' "but, to say the truth, I did not think I was well treated by them. The ladies are very singular in their manners; but they are foreigners, and not much acquainted with English manners, and that may account for it. I am not fond of finding fault, but when one has experienced such treatment as I have, it is not an easy task to forget it."
"You astonish me," replied Markham: "it always appeared to me that they were persons of very superior minds, both mother and daughter; I thought them absolutely incapable of behaving intentionally ill to any one. Is it not possible that there may be some misunderstanding or misapprehension?"
Miss Henderson shook her head, and gave one of those serious smiles which speak volumes. "Oh no, Mr. Markham, it is no misapprehension or misunderstanding. You would be indeed astonished if I were to tell you all. Perhaps some of these days, I may tell you more than I like to mention at present; besides, as they are friends of yours, I have no wish to prejudice you against them."
Markham did not importune the lady to say more, therefore she proceeded without being asked.
"Did you observe a gentleman sitting in the pew with Mr. Martindale's family? that is Mr. Tippetson, a young gentleman of large fortune, or at least of very good property. He is the gentleman to whom Miss Rivolta is engaged. He was at one time an intimate friend of ours; but we grew quite tired of him, for he is a man of no mind whatever, one of the most ignorant creatures I ever saw. He used to pester me with his attentions, and I did not know how to get rid of him. Indeed, if ever I marry, it must be to a person who has some mind. As soon as he began to pay his court to Miss Rivolta, the young lady, who was formerly my correspondent, left off writing to me, and has since then taken no notice of me whatever. I wonder she can have the impudence to come to our chapel. I could show you such letters that she has written to me. You cannot imagine what a hypocrite she is."
In saying so much, and in using such a tone of anger in her expressions, Miss Henderson forgot herself. She was too deeply mortified by her jealousy to be under the government of prudence; and when she had said so much, she wished it more than half unsaid, but it was too late. Markham, ignorant as he was of the world and its ways, was not so ignorant and so unobserving as not to understand and apprehend the complexion of Miss Henderson's mind. And without knowing, or even caring what might be the exact state of the case, he very plainly saw that the temper and disposition of Miss Henderson were not such as met his ideas of propriety or moral beauty. That part of the information which most affected and concerned him, was the intelligence that Mr. Tippetson was engaged to Clara. He had no reason to doubt that fact, but was surprised to find that Clara could attach herself to such a character. Yet judging from the tenor of Miss Henderson's philippic, he thought that Mr. Tippetson might not be quite so great a blockhead as she had represented him.
Markham took the earliest opportunity of paying his respects to Mr. Martindale, notwithstanding all that Miss Henderson had said and insinuated concerning the cruel usage she had experienced from that family. It was well that when Markham called, only Mr. Martindale was visible. The young lady, whom Miss Henderson was pleased to call a hypocrite, was not within. When the old gentleman saw Markham he greeted him with the utmost cordiality, and was, as he said, most heartily glad to see him.
"And pray, young man, how long have you been in England?"
Markham informed him of the circumstances which occasioned his return, and Mr. Martindale expressed his regret that there was such occasion of returning. "But," added he, "I don't see that you look ill now; it is a mere fancy that young men get into their heads about this and that place not agreeing with them. When I was a young man there was no such nonsense; young fellows went out to the East or West Indies, and made fortunes, and came home in high good health to enjoy themselves. It is a sad pity that you have let such a golden opportunity slip through your fingers; but if you really were ill, you could not help it. But don't be in a hurry, sit down. Little Clara and her mother will be home soon. You know you and Clara used to talk a good deal about poetry. I am sure she will be glad to see you. Thereis a young fellow, who is following us wherever we go, who is paying mighty close attention to Clara. I don't know whether they will make a match of it. Signora Rivolta does not like the young man. Perhaps you know him, his name is Tippetson; he has a very pretty fortune of his own. But I think it would be better if he had taken a profession. I don't like young men to be quite idle. My poor cousin Philip did himself no good by leaving his profession, and setting himself up as a man of rank. He is a man of higher rank now. I suppose you have heard that he has been created Earl of Trimmerstone. Foolish thing; but I believe it was partly my fault. Of course, you also know that he is married. Ah! to think that after all his fine talk about people of family and descent, to think, I say, that he should now go at last and marry the daughter of a soap-boiler. Though I don't see any harm in boiling soap. Soap must be had, and a soap-boiler is as useful a man as any other member of society, perhaps quite as useful as a lord; but I must not speak slightingly of lords. Philip's father died very suddenlyat last. He was breaking very much, I think, when you were in England. You never knew him. He was a much steadier man than his son. I am very much afraid Philip is not going on well. I have heard sad stories about him of his gambling, and laying such unreasonably large bets upon the merest trifles in the world. You must be introduced to him again now he has a new title, and you must see his lady. You remember her; a pretty woman, but rather coarse in her manners. All very well for a rich man's wife, but not at all fit for a countess. People of rank don't admire her much; and she is so very intimate with vulgar people, that poor Philip says he is afraid to go into a snuff-shop for fear the man behind the counter should inquire after the Countess of Trimmerstone. It is a foolish thing to marry for money. Never do that, Markham."
To this desultory harangue, and to much more of the same description, narrating and commenting upon all the events which had occurred since his departure, did Markham closely and attentively listen. He liked the old gentleman very much, for he had received good advice from him, and many compliments which are more agreeable than all the good advice in the world. While Mr. Martindale was speaking, Clara made her appearance, accompanied by Mr. Tippetson. The old gentleman introduced the young men to each other, and they looked at each other rather coldly. Clara tried to be very composed, but could not succeed. She trembled, blushed, and stammered: she made a hasty retreat, and ran up stairs to her own apartment, and when there, she gave way to a flood of tears. It was easy to indulge in this emotion, but it was not easy to suppress it. There she sat sobbing and weeping, and silently reproaching herself, unconscious and heedless of the lapse of time. A multitude of conflicting thoughts rushed into her mind, and her heart was a chaos of confusion and distress. She scarcely knew what she had been saying, doing, or thinking of. She thought that Markham looked reproachfully at her, and she thought that he had a right to look so. Poor innocent! she never found out that she had a heart till it began to reproach and torment her.
Not very long had she been thus employed in tormenting herself, when Signora Rivolta, who heard that Clara was in her own apartment, and understood that she had just met Markham on his return to England, suspecting that the meeting would produce an impression on her daughter's feelings, entered the young lady's room, and was grieved to see the very powerful emotion in which she was indulging herself. The Signora, who though an essentially kind mother, had generally a sternness and hardness of manner in addressing her daughter on matters of conduct and deportment, now saw that it was absolutely necessary to use the utmost gentleness and considerateness in speaking to her. Assuming therefore an unusual degree of softness of manner and mildness of tone, she gently approached the poor sufferer, and taking her hand and sitting down by her side, said,
"My dear child, it pains me to see you afflict yourself thus. Come, speak to me, tell me what is the cause of your sorrow. Why do you give so much indulgence to these emotions? Let me hear you speak. I would willingly comfort you." With these and such expressions the mother of Clara endeavoured to bring the young lady to a little composure; but the attempt was in vain. Poor Clara could not speak had she been willing, and she knew not what to say had she been able to speak. She could hardly describe to her own mind the cause of her tears. Her mother for a little while ceased to make inquiries, but sat in silent sympathy holding the hand of her sorrowing child; and after a time, when the violence of the emotion abated, Clara feeling herself ashamed of the violence and cause of her grief, attempted as well as she was able, which was indeed but indifferently, to apologise for and to explain her feelings. Signora Rivolta plainly saw that her heart was Markham's, and that she feared that she had given more encouragement than with propriety she should have given to the perfumed fop, who by disguising his real character had wrought upon the inexperiencedmind of the poor girl to lead her to think more highly of him than he deserved. For when the female heart has been once exposed to disappointment, it not unfrequently afterwards surrenders a cold consent to a less worthy object. Thus situated had Clara been. Markham appeared lost to her, and then she became indifferent to all others, and suffered Mr. Tippetson to pay her those attentions which under other circumstances she would have repelled with the greatest contempt from a person of his character and mind. After having suffered or tolerated those attentions, it appeared to her that she had given the young gentleman reason to suppose that a more serious address would not be rejected; but when Markham again made his appearance, and when he looked so interestingly and affectionately at her, and so inquiringly and jealously at Tippetson, then Clara felt as if he had reproached her for inconstancy and fickleness; then did she think that it was now too late to hope that Markham would renew those attentions with which she had formerly been so delighted; and in a moment did her activeimagination institute a comparison between Markham and Tippetson, not much to the advantage of the latter. For though she did not very attentively or seriously study the character of Tippetson, yet she had been so far familiar with the style of his conversation and with the attitude of his mind, that a comparison was easily formed between the two young gentlemen. Painful was this comparison to Clara's mind; for not only did she regret the loss of Markham, but almost as deeply did she bewail the necessity under which she had almost voluntarily, certainly carelessly, placed herself to accept the hand of Mr. Tippetson. Those of our readers to whom we have made ourselves intelligible concerning the character of Clara's mind, will very readily understand how deeply and severely she must have felt under these circumstances.
After this fit of sorrow, Clara no more made her appearance while Markham stayed. It was absolutely impossible for her to show herself. Her eyes were swelled and inflamed with weeping, her color was gone, and her whole frame in a trembling, agitated state. Another fit of illness threatened her; and Signora Rivolta, anxious for her daughter, could not think without indignation of Miss Henderson, who, to her mind, seemed to be so greatly the cause of that romantic and passionate state of mind in which Clara was placed.
"He who knows policy and her true aspect,Shall find her ways winding and indirect."Webster.
"He who knows policy and her true aspect,Shall find her ways winding and indirect."Webster.
Markham, whose mind was in no very enviable state, did not prolong his visit; but hastily and almost abruptly took his leave of Mr. Martindale, when, after waiting a reasonable time, he saw no more of Clara. The time was now arrived for Markham to go the circuit. He wasanxious lest by his absence from England he had injured his circuit practice, and lost his provincial clients. Agreeably disappointed was he to find that instead of that practice being injured or those clients being lost, his practice was increased and his clients were more numerous. Some other young barristers on the circuit were rather angry that Markham should return again after having for a time left the circuit; but that anger could not prevent Markham from having briefs. In every place on the circuit he obtained something, and in some he had as much business as often falls to the lot of older men. He had the advantage of being familiar with law, far beyond his age and standing; he had read much and had thought much, and his memory was good, and his readiness in reference and quotation was surprising. It is true that in order to acquire this he had given hard labor and study; and that for knowledge in his profession he had sacrificed much other knowledge, and many of those amusements in which young gentlemen in that profession do indulge. But he knew that nothing was to be done without labor,and that every thing was to be done by it. When he first embraced the profession, his friends and acquaintants made the common-place remark that the profession was overstocked; but he knew that it was not overstocked with severe and laborious applicants, and that in that profession, as well as in every other, there was room enough for those who would make room for themselves. With this feeling he commenced his studies, and with this encouragement he pursued them. And though he was sometimes laughed at for his simplicity and for his ignorance of every thing but his profession, he knew that in the end he should find his turn to laugh at those who at the beginning laughed at him.
"Every man to his taste," as the proverb has it. Let those who like to laugh and play enjoy themselves in their own way, only let them not suppose that their indolence and levity shall reap and gather the solid advantages and honors of laborious and serious diligence. It may be well that in every profession there should be those who by their negligence and listlessness make room for such as are more diligentlydisposed: therefore, we should not speak or think contemptuously of those who are not what are called an honor to their profession. They make way and room for others. Life is not quite so much of a lottery as the indolent and unsuccessful think it to be. It is not to be doubted that there are indeed some instances where real application and serious diligence have been unsuccessful. It is sad that there are any such, but there are not so many as is usually supposed.
Markham, we have said, went the circuit, and soon discovered that his temporary absence had not lost him much or any thing. Briefs flowed in upon him in abundance, and one of them was to a young gentleman in his circumstances somewhat curious. It was an action for breach of promise of marriage. Markham always read his briefs attentively, and endeavoured not only to put himself in possession of the facts there stated, but attempted also to understand the real merits of the case; that is to say, he made himself a judge as far as he could from an ex-parte statement, in order that he might thereby be the better able to anticipate his adversary's arguments. He saw very plainly in thecase now submitted to him, that this was one of those not uncommon instances, in which a young gentleman of more passion than judgment forms a hasty engagement, and soon finds occasion to repent of his precipitation; where the attachment of the lady increases in proportion as that of the gentleman decreases. Instead, therefore, of meditating and spouting a very fine flowery harangue, which might tend rather to set off the barrister than to aid the cause which he professed to advocate, he thought it best to leave the jury to find out by the force of their own judgment, that to make a promise of this nature and not to fulfil it was altogether improper, and worthy of reprehension and punishment. An action being brought implied an injury; and therefore he did not think it necessary to dwell very prosingly and eloquently on that topic; but rather, he thought it best to anticipate the defence, and neutralise that as much as lay in his power. This he did most effectually; and with an air of the greatest candor and readiness to make every concession and allowance, he succeeded in making thejury believe and feel that the case was abominable. This proceeding crippled the defence, inasmuch as there was in Markham's statement and address none of that tawdry nonsense called pathos and sublimity, but a straightforward, or at least an apparently straightforward, statement of a very common case, in which he did not seem to be making more of the subject than it required or would well bear. The consequence, partly we may suppose of the justice of the cause, and partly of the dexterous manner in which Markham managed it, was, that he had a verdict with as much damages as were claimed. This was a great triumph of plain common sense: for Markham did not by foolishly attempting to make too much of the business overdo and destroy it. His speech which was rather long, and which in its delivery was very clear and distinct, and in its sentences and construction lucid and intelligible, so much pleased and attracted the reporters who were present, that they gave it in the papers at very great length, and especially as trials of this nature are generally highly interesting to the public.
The country trials are read in London. Few young ladies pass over a trial for breach of promise of marriage, without attentively studying the arguments of the case, and delightedly dwelling upon the eloquence and pathos in which the agonies of a broken heart are described and painted to an attentive jury of honest though obtuse agriculturists. Some young ladies were disappointed at Markham's speech, for they had heard that he was a clever man, and they were astonished not to find any more sublimity or sentimentality in his speeches at trials. These young ladies take it as a settled matter, that all clever men who make speeches must by virtue of their cleverness be very flowery and sentimental and figurative in their language. Markham knew better. The jury which he addressed was not composed of tender-hearted, susceptible young gentlemen, overdone with poetry and romance, but of twelve blunt, honest, hard-handed, close-fisted, cool-hearted, dry-souled, middle-aged farmers, who scarcely knew what was meant by a broken heart. It would have been nonsense then to have addressed to them atrumpery fine spoutification, such as young apprentices and journeymen apothecaries administer to one another at their sixpenny debating-clubs and public-house wisdom-shops. Markham spoke to what he knew to be the purpose. A young lady brought an action against a young gentleman for breach of promise of marriage; the first question which the jury would wish to have answered was, is it true that such promise was given and broken? They did not want to hear a school-boy theme on the subject; and if they had heard one, and if they had heard Markham labor very hard to prove the young gentleman one of the most hard-hearted, wicked, abominable creatures that ever lived, and to set forth the young lady as the most cruelly afflicted and tormented of all the broken-hearted daughters of Eve, they might have stared with astonishment at Markham's very wonderful display, but they would not have understood one-half of his fine words, and would not have believed one-half of his fine story. But when it was proved as stated, that there actually had been a breach of promise, then the next question was, may there not be somebusiness, and after conceding all that could be claimed, proved or well argued that the extenuations to be set up were not sufficient: he showed the jury there could be no valid excuse; and therefore, when the defendant's counsel came to make and furnish out the excuses, he found that he had been so anticipated as to be much hampered in the defence: and it answered well. An eloquent man would have spoiled the cause by exaggeration and bombast: therefore, though the young ladies did not think Markham's speech the production of a clever man when they first read it, yet afterwards they were convinced that he was right; and they were very much pleased with those pure and generous principles which he unostentatiously and calmly avowed. They all thought that Mr. Markham must be so very pure in his principles, and so very chivalric, as he expressed such strict notions of the principles of honor as applicable to promises of such a sacred nature as promises of marriage: for inexcuse found for the young gentleman? Markham took up this part of the the course of his speech he had said, "You will find that a promise of marriage has in this case actually been made formally, explicitly, and decidedly. There was not an implied intention, but an actual promise. Some men there are, to their shame be it spoken, who by constant attentions and assiduities, without making any promises, gain the affections and excite the hopes of those whom they desert at last with legal impunity, but not without bitter self-reproach."
The young ladies in general admired Mr. Markham for this expression, and they thought that he deserved their best thanks for thus reprehending and exposing such wanton and cruel wickedness. Miss Henderson was among the foremost to admire this sentiment. More than once or twice did she take up her pen to write Markham a letter of compliment and congratulation; to compliment him on his virtue, and to congratulate him on his success. But she had her fears and distrusts. She really did condescend to think that peradventure there might besome little impropriety, or some appearance of forwardness, if she should be the first to commence a correspondence; and yet she did very much wish for an opportunity of expressing to Markham her high sense of his professional talents, and her admiration of the moral beauty of his mind. What a pity it is that custom has so ordered it, that the lady must always wait till the gentleman takes it into his head to propose the question! it is very arbitrary. Perhaps many a worthy, modest, diffident gentleman, who would willingly, if he dared be so presumptuous, offer his hand to some beautiful, intelligent, amiable one of the other sex, is by this social, or rather unsocial regulation, doomed to live single, or to give his hand at last to some less worthy object. This, for aught Miss Henderson knew to the contrary, might be poor Markham's case. The young lady was aware that Markham was of humble origin, and to that she partly attributed his diffidence. She also thought that very likely he was waiting till by his professional exertions he had acquired a competency to live in a certain style.She was quite charmed with the beauty of his sentiments, and the sublimity of his mind; and whenever his name was mentioned, she was copious and fluent in his praise. It was the subject of her constant thoughts, and the theme of her frequent talk. So that most persons of her acquaintance thought that if there was not an absolute engagement, there was at least an implied understanding between them; and whenever, by her young friends, any sportive insinuations to that purpose were thrown out, she did not contradict them or set them right. Herein the young lady was obviously and decidedly wrong, and laid the foundation of some after perplexity, embarrassment, and mortification. It was wrong, very wrong indeed, and it was scarcely honest, inasmuch as she thought to make doubly sure of him, by suffering every one to take it for granted that there subsisted an engagement between them. But as honesty is the best policy, and as all deviations from that strict line are attended more or less with some inconvenience and disadvantage, Miss Henderson found that her object was far from being attainedby this contrivance: for as she suffered this implied or supposed engagement to become common-talk among her friends, the rumor went farther, and reached the ears of Markham himself.
Great, unspeakably great, was his astonishment, when on his return from the circuit, and just as he was seated in his chambers and meditating on the sorrow which had afflicted him at parting from Clara, and thinking also of the sad change there now seemed to be in his prospects as they regarded her, great was his astonishment to see Mr. Martindale enter the apartment, and to hear him, before he had well uttered the ordinary salutation, exclaim,
"So my grave counsellor, I find you have lost your heart. A very pretty story; why you never condescended to honor me with the information. I suppose you thought I could not keep a secret. Well, well, you did wisely to keep your own counsel so long. If people can't keep their own secrets, nobody is likely to keep them for them. But methinks, young gentleman, you were rather in a hurry. You will not stand any great chance for making your fortune by the match; but that is your own concern. Nobody has any business with that but yourself. If you go on as you have begun, you will make a fortune in your profession; and perhaps, after all, that is the best way of making a fortune. You will enjoy it much more than if you have a fortune ready made for you."
Thus said Mr. Martindale to the astonished and perplexed Horatio Markham, who, as soon as he had recovered from the surprise with which this greeting overwhelmed him, replied,
"My good sir, you astonish me beyond measure. What can you allude to? I have not the slightest idea of what you can refer to. I assure you, sir, that you have been much misinformed if you have heard of any matrimonial engagement of mine."
With equal, if not greater astonishment, Mr. Martindale returned,
"My good sir, you astonishmebeyond measure. Not know what I allude to? What, do you pretend to say that your attentions to Miss Henderson have meant nothing? All the world says that you are engaged to her, and that during the whole winter you have been assiduously attending her to the Opera, and perpetually dangling about with her. Indeed, some of your friends have observed that your attention was more occupied on Miss Henderson, than on the performances on the stage or orchestra: so it is absolutely ridiculous in you to affect to deny what every body knows to be the truth. And why should you deny it? you have a right to offer your hand to whomsoever you please. I know no objection to Miss Henderson."
Thereupon a flood of light burst in upon the mind of the young barrister, and he trembled in every limb, when he thought of the manner in which he had been so long and so carelessly committing himself. He saw that there was no room for denial, unless accompanied with very copious explanation; and he actually feared, that no explanation which he could give would be sufficient to exonerate him from the charge of having trifled with Miss Henderson's feelings, and having severelyinterrupted her happiness. This was not an enviable state of mind for a young gentleman who was very anxious to preserve a high moral reputation, as well as to acquire a high intellectual reputation. He was perplexed beyond measure; and he was for some minutes unable to say a word in continuation, denial, or defence. But thinking it absolutely necessary to say something after the very decided manner in which Mr. Martindale had brought the matter home to him, he replied,
"It is very true, sir, that I did accompany Miss Henderson several times to the Opera; but I am not at all aware that my attention was more taken up by the young lady than good manners absolutely required. I have a recollection that Miss Henderson did very frequently address herself to me on the subject of the performance, more frequently perhaps than was consistent with a proper attention to the stage, and of course I could do no less than reply: that was the substance of the attention which I paid to Miss Henderson in public. I am surprised tofind that any one should from such circumstances have raised the story of my intention of marrying the young lady."
"You may be as much surprised as you will; but the fact is, that the story comes from Miss Henderson herself, or at all events she has not denied it when it has been mentioned to her, and that is nearly the same."
Markham knew that Mr. Martindale was not addicted to playing off practical jokes, and therefore he did not disbelieve what he said; and he was also aware that the old gentleman would not take up a story merely at random, without some good authority, therefore it appeared that the information was correct; and then, for the first time in his life, Markham began to think it possible that there were such beings as forward young ladies, and that all individuals of the sex were not equally difficult to woo and to win. All that he could do at present was to assure Mr. Martindale that Miss Henderson had formed an incorrect conclusion, and to take blame to himself for not having wisdom and attention to see before that which was now so very obvious.Mr. Martindale, however, who was a more experienced man than the young barrister, presently saw how the case stood, and pitied the unfortunate young man most sincerely.
"I see," said he, "how the matter is. The fact is, you have unwarily committed yourself; and the young lady is of opinion that your attentions meant more than you designed them to mean. I do not know how to advise you, you must use your own judgment, and do the best you can for yourself. If you have no objection to the young lady, there is no harm done; and if you require a little help at the commencement of housekeeping, I will stand your friend. I have no doubt of your success in your profession; but perhaps at present, as Miss Henderson cannot have any fortune, you may find a friend's assistance not unacceptable."
This was uttered in Mr. Martindale's usual frank and abrupt manner; and on the part of Markham, it was felt to be very generous and kind, and he acknowledged it accordingly. But there were two matters to which he felt strong objections; viz. to marrying where there was not on his part much or indeed any affection, and also to the accepting pecuniary favors from a comparative stranger. These were certainly difficulties not easy to be surmounted. And when Mr. Martindale left the young gentleman to his meditations, those meditations were not the most pleasant.