"Well, Gray, the business is all settled," said Wilton, one day,
coming into the office of the individual he addressed so familiarly.
"What business, Charles?"
"Why, I've won the rich and beautiful Miss Linton. Last night I told
my story, and was referred to the old man, of course. I have just
seen him, and he says I am welcome to the hand of his daughter. Now,
is not that a long stride up the ladder! The most beautiful and
attractive woman in the city for a wife, and an old daddy in law as
rich as Croesus!"
"You are what some would call a lucky dog," said Wilton, with a
smile.
"And yet there is no luck in it. 'Faint heart, they say, 'never won
fair lady.' I knew half-a-dozen clever fellows who were looking to
Miss Linton's hand; but while they hesitated, I stepped boldly up
and carried off the prize. Let me alone, Walter. I'll work my way
through the world."
"And I, too, have been doing something in that line."
"You? Why, Walter, you confound me! I never dreamed that you would
have the courage to make love to a woman."
"Wiser ones than you are mistaken, sometimes."
"No doubt of it. But who is the fair lady?"
"Can you not guess?"
"Jane Emory?"
"Of course. She is the most sensible women it has yet been my
fortune to meet."
"Has the best common sense, I suppose?"
"Exactly."
"You are a genius, Walter. When you die, I expect you will leave a
clause in your will, to the effect that the undertaker shall be a
man of good, plain, common sense. O dear! What a dull life you will
lead! Darby and Joan!"
"You are still a trifler with serious matters, Charles. But time
will sober you, I trust, and do it before such a change will come
too late."
"How much is old Emory worth, Walter?" Wilton asked, without
regarding the last remark of his friend.
"I am sure I do not know. Not a great deal, I suppose."
"You don't know?"
"No; how should I?"
"Well, you are a queer one! It is time that you did then, let me
tell you."
"Why so?"
"In the name of sense, Walter, what are you going to marry his
daughter for."
"Because I love her."
"Pah! I know how much of that sort of thing appertains to the
business."
"Charles!"
"Don't look so utterly dumfounded, friend Walter."
"I am surprised, and I must say pained, to hear you speak thus.
Surely you love the young lady you propose to marry?"
"Of course. But then I have a decent regard for her old father's
wealth; and I am by no means insensible to her personal attractions.
I group all that is desirable into one grand consideration--beauty,
wealth, standing, mental endowments, etc.,--and take her for the
whole. But for love--a mere impulse that will die of itself, if left
alone,--to marry a young lady! O no,--I am not the simpleton for
that!"
Walter Gray looked his friend in the face for a moment or two, but
did not reply. He was pained, even shocked at his levity.
"You seem really to doubt my being in earnest?" said Wilton, after a
pause.
"I would doubt, if I could, Charles. But I fear you are speaking out
too truly, sentiments that I could not have believed you capable of
entertaining."
"You are too simple and unsophisticated to live in this world, my
old friend Walter Gray."
"And long may I remain so," was the calm response, "if to be honest
and sincere is to be simple and unsophisticated."
"Well, good morning to you, and success to your love marriage."
And so saying, Charles Wilton left the office of his friend.
A few weeks more passed away, and the two young men had, in the
meantime, consummated their matrimonial engagements. The wedding of
Charles Wilton and Cara Linton was a splendid affair, succeeded by
parties and entertainments for five or six weeks. That of Walter
Gray and Jane Emory passed off more quietly and rationally.
Three months after their wedding-day, let us look in upon the two
friends and their fair partners; and first, upon Charles Wilton and
his bride. The time is evening, and they are sitting alone in one of
their richly furnished parlors.
"O dear!" yawned out Wilton, rising and walking backwards and
forwards, "this is dull work. Is there no place where we can go and
spend a pleasant evening?"
"I don't know, dear. Suppose we step over and see Pa?"
"O no. We were there two or three evenings ago. And, any how, I am
in no humor for playing at draughts."
"Well, I should like to go there this evening. I want to see Ma
about something."
"You can easily go to-morrow, Cara, and stay as long as you choose."
"But I should like to go to night, dear."
"Don't think of it, Cara."
"Then suppose we call in and sit an hour with the Melton's?"
"Not to-night, Cara. The old man is deaf, and talks you out of all
patience about sugars and teas cotton and tobacco."
"But the girls are lively and entertaining."
"Not for me, Cara. Think again."
"Why not stay at home?"
"And pray what shall we do here?"
"I'll sing and play for you."
"I am in no humor for music to-night."
His young wife sighed, but Wilton did not notice it.
"Come, let us go over to the Grogans?" he at length said.
"I can't say that I care much about going there," his wife replied.
"Of course not. You never seem to care much about going where I wish
to," said Wilton, pettishly.
His wife burst into tears, and sat sobbing for some minutes, during
which time Wilton paced the room backwards and forwards, in moody
silence. After a while his wife rose up and stole quietly from the
room, and in a few minutes returned, dressed, to go out.
"I am ready," she said.
"Ready to go where?"
"To Mr. Grogan's, of course. You wish to go."
"I don't care about going now, as long as you are unwilling."
"Yes, but I am willing, Charles, if the visit will be pleasant to
you."
"O, as to that, I don't wish to compel you to go anywhere."
"Indeed, Charles, I am willing to go," said his wife, while her
voice trembled and sounded harshly. "Come, now that I am ready. I
wish to go."
For a moment longer Wilton hesitated, and then took up his hat and
went with her. Few were the words that passed between them as they
walked along the street. Arrived at their friend's house they both
suddenly changed, and were as gay, and seemed as happy, as the
gayest and the happiest.
"Shall we call in upon some pleasant friends to-night or spend our
evening alone?" asked Walter Gray, taking a seat upon the sofa
beside his happy wife, on the same evening that the foregoing
conversation and incidents occurred.
"Let it be as you wish, Walter," was the affectionate, truthful
reply.
"As for me, Jane, I am always happy at home--too happy, I sometimes
think."
"How, too happy?"
"Too happy to think of others, Jane. We must be careful not to
become isolated and selfish in our pleasures. Our social character
must not be sacrificed. If it is in our power to add to the
happiness of others, it is right that we should mingle in the social
circle."
"I feel the truth of what you say, Walter, and yet I find it hard to
be thus unselfish. I am sure that I would a thousand times rather
remain at home and read with you a pleasant book, or sing and play
for you, than to spend an evening away from our pleasant home."
"I feel the same inclinations. But I am unwilling to encourage them.
And yet, I am not an advocate for continual visitings. The delights
of our own sweet fireside, small though the circle be, I would enjoy
often. But these pleasures will be increased tenfold by our
willingness to let others share them, and, also, by our joining in
their home--delights and social recreations."
A pause of a few moments ensued, when Mrs. Gray said,
"Suppose, then, Walter, we call over and see how they are getting on
at 'home?' Pa and Ma are lonesome, now that I am away."
"Just what I was thinking of, Jane. So get on your things, and we
will join them and spend a pleasant evening."
These brief conversations will indicate to the reader how each of
the young men and their wives were thus early beginning to reap the
fruits of true and false principles of action. We cannot trace each
on his career, step by step, during the passage of many years,
though much that would interest and instruct could be gathered from
their histories. The limits of a brief story like this will not
permit us thus to linger. On, then, to the grand result of their
lives we must pass. Let us look at the summing up of the whole
matter, and see which of the young men started with the true secret
of success in the world, and which of the young ladies evinced most
wisdom in her choice of a husband.