Miss Arabella Thorne was the daughter of an old citizen of New York, a
worthy man, a plumber by trade, who, by means of plenty of work, small
competition, and high prices, managed to scrape together fifty or sixty
thousand dollars, which from time to time he judiciously invested in
real estate. Late in life he married a tall, lean, sour-visaged
spinster, considerably past thirty, with nothing whatever to recommend
her except that she belonged to one of the first families. The fact is,
she was a poor relation, and had all her life been passed around from
cousin to cousin, each endeavoring to shift the burden as quick as
possible. As she grew older she became more fretful and ill tempered,
until it was a serious question with all interested how to dispose of
her. Of late years she had taken to novel reading, and when engaged with
a favorite romance, she was so peevish and irritable, that, to use a
common expression, there was no living with her.
Things were at this pass when Thorn (he spelled his name without an
_e_) was called to do some work at the house of Mr. de Silver, an uncle
of the 'poor relation,' with whom she was then staying. This gentleman,
who for years had been at his wits' end to know what to do with his
niece, conceived the design of marrying her to Thorn, who was in good
circumstances, and could give her a comfortable home. It so happened
that she was at that time absorbed with a novel (she always fancied
herself the heroine) where the principal character was called on to make
a sacrifice, and by so doing married a nobleman in disguise. She
therefore was ready; but it was not without some difficulty that Thorn
was brought into the arrangement. However, the distinction of marrying
so much above him, and the advantage which might avail to his children,
overcame his natural good sense, and the 'poor relation' became Mrs.
Thorn.
It is very certain that Mrs. Thorn would have been the death of her
husband in a reasonably short period, had she not herself been suddenly
cut off the second year of her married life, leaving an infant a few
hours old, whom she named Arabella, after her last heroine, just as the
breath was leaving her body.
Mr. Thorn buried his wife, and was comforted. He never married again.
His eighteen months' experience was sufficient. He even consented to
give up the direction of the infant, who would _not_ be a poor relation
like her mother, to Mrs. de Silver, who proceeded to look after it quite
as she would one of her own children.
[And this was all because old Thorn was getting rich, and would probably
not marry again, and Arabella would have his money.]
When Arabella was ten years old, her father died. By his will he made
Mr. de Silver his executor, but prudently forbade any sale of his real
estate till his daughter should be twenty-one, when she was to enter
into possession. The personal property was ample for her meantime.
Arabella grew up quite as the adopted child of the De Silvers. They had
no daughter, but were blessed with three sons. The youngest was but ten
years older than Arabella, for whom Mrs. de Silver had destined him.
Miss Thorne (to whose name an _e_ had been mysteriously added) bore a
strong resemblance to her deceased mother, but there was one striking, I
may say overwhelming difference between them. Mrs. Thorn had all her
life been poor and dependent, and treated as such while thrown about
from house to house for a precarious home. She was crossed and snubbed,
and a naturally unamiable temper made a thousand times worse by the
treatment she received. Arabella was rich and independent, and spoiled
by over indulgence to her idle whims and caprices. For Mrs. de Silver,
intent on making the match, did not dare cross her dear Arabella in the
least thing. She was shrewd, and soon perceived that she controlled the
situation, and did not hesitate to take advantage of it. In fact, she
kept everybody dancing attendance on her. Fond of admiration to an
absurd degree, she still had a constant suspicion that she was courted
for her money. As I have said, in person she resembled her mother, but
here wealth came in to do away with the resemblance. True, she was tall
and angular, but she made up superbly, so that on looking at her one
would exclaim: 'What a stylish woman!' True, her features were homely,
and her complexion without freshness, but over these were spread the
magic atmosphere of fashion and assured position. She had a
consciousness which repelled any idea that _she_ could be otherwise than
handsome, fascinating, intelligent, and everything else desirable, and
this consciousness actually produced, in a large majority, the pleasing
illusion that she was really all these. But she was not. On the
contrary, stripped of the gloss, she was censorious, supercilious, and
selfish. Deprived of her dressmaker, she was gaunt and unsightly.
Separated from her position, she would have been unbearable. Arabella
had many offers, of course, but she was too fond of her power and too
suspicious of an attempt on her purse to yield easily. She was enough of
a coquette not absolutely to destroy the hopes of an admirer, but
managed to keep him dangling in her train. She had never absolutely
discouraged young De Silver, but she would not commit herself even to
Mrs. de S., who still fondly hoped that the money of the industrious
plumber would come into her family. So matters ran on till Miss Thorne
was of age. Mr. de Silver evidently did not suppose there was to be any
change in the management of his ward's affairs. He was soon undeceived.
The young lady, about two weeks after the event, asked for a private
interview with her guardian, and very quietly, after a series of polite
phrases, announced that from that time she should herself take charge of
her own property. There was nothing in this to which Mr. de Silver could
object. Beyond some advantages which he derived from its management,
without injury to his ward, it was of no importance; but he was not a
little mortified nevertheless. It looked as if there was a lack of
confidence in his management, but he could only assent, and say his
accounts were ready for her inspection. The truth is that Arabella had
made some acquaintances who ranked a grade higher in the fashionable
world even than the De Silvers. They had impressed her with an idea that
it would add to her importance to have her own 'solicitor' and take on
herself the management of her affairs. To this end she had consulted Mr.
Farrar, a well-known and experienced lawyer, who had been recommended to
her by one of her friends. Just then speculation in real estate was
rife, and prices had reached an extravagant point. The first thing which
Miss Thorne did under the advice of Mr. Farrar, was to sell from time to
time, as opportunity offered, all the real estate which her father had
left her, and invest it in personal securities. In this way a very large
sum was realized, and Miss Thorne's labors soon reduced to the simple
task of receiving her semi-annual dividends. Mr. Bennett had not
overrated the value of her property when he pronounced her worth two
hundred thousand dollars. On the contrary, it is probable one might add
fifty thousand to the computation and be nearer the mark.
When Mrs. de Silver saw the independent course Miss Thorne was pursuing,
she became still more assiduous in her efforts to please her dear
Arabella. The latter, since it was still convenient to live with the De
Silvers, was sufficiently amiable, but she never omitted an opportunity
to show that she was her own mistress and intended to continue so. The
De Silvers were Episcopalians, but they did not attend the most
fashionable church. Miss Thorne very soon purchased an expensive pew in
St. Jude's, and although Mrs. de Silver kept a carriage which was always
at Miss Thorne's disposal, the latter set up a handsome brougham of her
own. The young lady, after joining her new church, had determined to
distinguish herself. She was not content with moderate performances. She
aspired to lead. She kept at the very height of fashion. Yet St. Jude's
had no more zealous member. She was an inveterate party goer, and
nothing pleased her better than to have double engagements through the
whole season; but the period of Lent found her utterly _dévote_--a most
zealous attendant on all the ordinances of the Church. She was very
intimate with Mr. Myrtle, and it is probable no one had half so much
influence with her as the Rev. Charles Myrtle himself. She had her
_protégés_ also--generally some handsome young fellow about taking
orders, whose devotion to Miss Thorne was perfectly excruciating. Time
went on and Miss Arabella Thorne was carried along in the train of the
tyrant. With the passing years she became more intensely fashionable,
more bigoted, more fond of admiration, more difficult to please. She had
refused so many offers, while she had coquetted so much, that young men
began to avoid her. This greatly increased her natural irritability;
made her jealous of the success of every rising belle, censorious, ill
natured in remark, and generally disagreeable. When Hiram Meeker first
saw Miss Arabella Thorne in her pew at St. Jude's, the interesting young
woman was (dare I mention it?) already twenty-eight. In respect to
appearance, she had altered very little since she was eighteen. So much
depended on her milliner, her dressmaker, her costumer, and her maid,
and to their credit be it spoken, they performed their duty so well,
that the 'ravages' of the fashionable seasons she had passed through
were not at all visible. There were times when Miss Arabella Thorne
would confess to herself that she ought to marry. But with every
succeeding birthday came increased suspicion that she was sought only
for her fortune.
Such was the position of affairs when the shrewd wholesale drygoods
merchant, satisfied that all his cousin cared for in matrimony was
money, conceived the idea of making a match between Hiram and the
fashionable Arabella. It did not take the former long, after Mr. Bennett
once explained just how things stood, to comprehend exactly the
situation, and to form and mature his plans accordingly. He had
committed a blunder, as Mr. Bennett termed it, in giving up Miss Tenant,
but that was a conventional mistake, if, which it is very doubtful,
Hiram ever admitted that it was a mistake. Here, however, he could bring
his keen knowledge of human nature to play, and once understanding the
character of Miss Thorne, he felt fully equal to the enterprise. In
fact, Hiram was once more on his old ground, and he enjoyed the idea of
the contest he was about to engage in.
Mr. Myrtle was fully enlisted on Hiram's side. He was much pleased with
the addition of a wealthy, rising young man--and a proselyte besides--to
his church. He feared that Miss Thorne might in time be lost to it by
her marrying outside of his congregation. Here was a capital chance to
secure _her_ and add to his own influence and popularity.
He was too astute to approach the subject directly. Miss Thorne might be
suspicious even of him. He would give her no opportunity. Mr. Myrtle was
too polished and too refined a man, too dignified indeed, to even
_appear_ in the light of a match maker. But assurance was conveyed by
Mrs. Myrtle to Mrs. Bennett, and thence _via_ Mr. Bennett confidentially
to Hiram, that Mr. Myrtle might be relied on to do everything in his
power in the delicate business.
Thus fortified, and conscious of the aid of the Bennett family, which
was a very strong point, our hero entered on the fall and winter
campaign, resolved before it was over to secure the two hundred thousand
dollars of the fashionable Arabella, and, as it must needs be, that
inestimable person along with it.
I have mentioned their first sight of each other in church, and the
curiosity of Miss Thorne to know who the young man in the next pew could
be. And here Hiram's generalship must be specially noticed. Mrs. Bennett
proposed to bring about an immediate introduction by arranging an
_accidental_ meeting at her house. This Hiram peremptorily objected to;
and in speaking on the subject with Mr. Bennett, with whom all his
conversations were held, he displayed such a subtle insight into the
character, habits, and peculiarities of Miss Thorne, that Mr. Bennett
was amazed. He afterward told his wife she must let Hiram have his own
way, as the fellow knew more than all of them.
Two parties came off the following week, to both of which Hiram was
invited through the influence of the Bennetts. Miss Thorne was of course
present. Hiram, now perfectly at his ease, and fashionably attired, made
no insignificant display. He was introduced to a great many young
ladies, and saluting two or three of the most attractive, he paid at
different stages of the evening assiduous court to them. His waltzing
was really superb [O Hiram, what a change!], and not a few inquired,
'Who is he?' Mrs. Bennett was really proud to answer, 'A cousin of ours.
A very fine young man, indeed--very rich.'
Miss Thorne did not ask any questions--not she; but she quickly
recognized in the waltzer the occupant of the pew who had already
attracted her notice. She waited complacently for the moment when Hiram
should be led up to her for presentation, and she had already decided
just how she should receive him. She was resolved to ruffle his
complacency, and thus punish him for not paying his first tribute to her
charms; then, so she settled it, she would relax, and permit him to
waltz with her.
When the evening passed, and the fashionable young man had made no
demonstration, she was amazed. Such a thing had never happened before.
To think he should not ask _her_, while he devoted half the evening to
Miss Innis, who waltzed shockingly (every one knew that), and who had no
money either!
She went home in a very uncomfortable state of mind.
The following Wednesday there was a repetition of this very scene. The
party was even more brilliant than the last, Miss Thorne more
exquisitely dressed, but Hiram kept aloof. Miss Thorne had never been
slighted before--never. This evening she was tempted to waive her pride,
and inquire of her dear friend Mrs. Bennett, with whom she saw Hiram
conversing--but the thought was too humiliating, and she forbore.
How she hated the wretch!--that is, as women hate, and as men like to be
hated. What should she do? Could she endure to attend another party, and
be so treated? Why, the creature never even looked toward her! What
right had he to dress so fashionably and to waltz with such ease, and in
fact appear so well every way? To occupy quite by himself the very best
pew in St. Jude's, directly in front of her! What audacity! Then his
provoking _nonchalance_. Oh, what was she to do? She should go crazy.
Not quite that. She would first inquire of Mr. Myrtle, in a very
careless manner. So she ran in that same morning on the accomplished
clergyman, and was speedily in a full gallop of conversation.
'By the way,' she exclaimed, at length, as if a new thought had suddenly
struck her, 'pray, tell me, who is my new neighbor? I intended asking
the last time I saw you, but forgot it.'
The Rev. Charles Myrtle looked completely mystified, and asked with his
eyes, plainly as eyes could ask, 'Pray, what do you mean?'
'I see you don't take. I mean the new occupant of the Winslows' pew;
some relation, I suppose.'
'Oh, no. He is a cousin of the Bennetts, a young merchant, who has
purchased the pew.'
'Indeed? A good churchman, I hope, if he is to sit so near me.'
'I should judge so. I am but slightly acquainted with him. Mrs. Bennett,
however, speaks of him in the most enthusiastic terms. She says he has
but one fault (I mention it to save you young people from
disappointment), which is, that he is not fond of ladies' society.'
'I know better,' interrupted Miss Thorne, betraying herself; for she was
thinking of what she had witnessed at the two parties. Too much a woman
of the world to blush or betray any embarrassment, she as quickly
recovered, and added, laughingly, 'No one can make me believe he takes
all that pains with his dress for nothing.'
'Now I think of it, he does dress in very good taste,' said Mr. Myrtle
carelessly. 'I think, however, what Mrs. Bennett meant to convey is that
Mr. Meeker is not a marrying man. She says he is very rich, and has a
horror of being caught, as it is called.'
'So then his name is Meeker,' replied Miss Thorne, with an absent air,
as if she had paid no attention to Mr. Myrtle's concluding observation,
though she had drunk in every word with eager interest.
'Yes. You will probably meet him at the Bennetts', though I do not think
he would please you, Miss Arabella. [Mr. Myrtle knew the weakness of
spinsters after reaching a certain age for being called by their first
name.] You are too _exegeante_, my dear young lady, and Mr. Meeker is
devoted to affairs.'
'I wonder Mrs. Myrtle does not return; she told me she would not be gone
two minutes,' said Miss Thorne, with the air of complete indifference to
what Mr. Myrtle was saying, which a fashionable thorough-bred knows so
well how to assume.
'Here she is,' said Mr. Myrtle. 'I will leave you together, and go back
to my labors. Good morning.'
Miss Thorne by this time was really very much excited; so much so that
she could not resist speaking of Hiram to Mrs. Myrtle, though of course
in the same accidental way in which she had inquired of her husband.
Mrs. Myrtle of course had much more to say in reply. All about Hiram's
joining their church--what a good young man he was, how conscientious,
how devoted to business, and how rich, and getting richer every day.
Miss Thorne drew herself up slightly, as if that could be of no
consequence to _her_. Still she unbent directly, and said with an
amiable smile, as if simply to continue the conversation, 'But Mr.
Myrtle says he is a woman hater.'
'Oh, I think not so bad as that; but Mrs. Bennett says the ladies are
all crazy about him, and he has a ridiculous suspicion that they are
after his money.'
'The wretch!' exclaimed Miss Arabella, laughing.
'So I say,' rejoined Mrs. Myrtle. 'But the fact is, Mrs. Bennett says
that Mr. Meeker thinks too much about business, and if he goes on in
this way he will never get married, and she tells him she is determined
he shall marry.'
'A very proper resolve!' exclaimed Miss Thorne in the same vein.
The conversation now turned on other topics, and after a few minutes
Miss Thorne took leave in no very enviable state of mind. Here was a
young man about to become one of the stars of fashion, rich,
accomplished, quite in her own set, too; yet not a step had he taken
toward securing her favor. Why, he might even outstrip her at St.
Jude's! Then what _would_ become of her? 'I wonder if he keeps Lent?'
she muttered between her clenched teeth, as she walked along.
At that very moment, who should she encounter but Miss Innis, a
charming, bewitching, and very fashionable young creature (so all the
gentlemen said), to whom at the late parties, as I have already
mentioned, Hiram had been devoted the larger part of the evening.
The ladies rushed toward each other and embraced in the most
affectionate manner. The usual rapid chitchat ensued.
'What do you think of our new beau?' asked Miss Innis.
Now Miss Thorne was burning with envy, hatred, malice, and all
uncharitableness toward the young and rising belle, which was greatly
increased by witnessing Hiram's extraordinary devotion to her. After the
conversation with Mrs. Myrtle, she could no longer doubt the fact that
he was soon to become of decided importance in the fashionable world.
The moment she saw Miss Innis approaching, she anticipated some such
question as was now put to her, and knowing that through her dear friend
Mrs. Bennett she could make Hiram's acquaintance at any time, she had
decided how to treat it.
She replied therefore with considerable animation, and as if she knew at
once to whom Miss Innis alluded: 'Oh, I think we shall make something of
him before the season is over. I tell Mrs. Bennett she must cure him of
some little provincialisms, however.'
'Provincialisms!' exclaimed Miss Innis, who prided herself on her family
and aristocratic breeding, though she had not wealth to boast of;
'provincialisms! I confess I discovered none, and I certainly had a
pretty good opportunity for judging. He waltzes divinely, doesn't he?'
The tantalizing minx knew very well that Miss Thorne could only judge by
observation.
'He waltzes with much perfection, certainly,' replied Miss Thorne, with
the air of a connoisseur, 'but I think a little stiffly.'
'Quite the reverse, I assure you. I never had a partner with whom it was
so easy to waltz. He supports one so perfectly. I declare I am in love
with him already. Arabella dear, I give you warning I shall try my best
to engross his attention the entire season.'
She laughed as she said this, and Miss Thorne laughed; then these young
women of fashion again embraced, and with smiles and amiable expressions
went their way.
How suddenly the countenance of each then changed! That of Miss Innis
gave unmistakable tokens of contempt and disgust, while Miss Thorne's
face expressed a concentrated venom, which, if I had not myself often
witnessed, I would not believe is in the power of woman to display.
The rencontre with Miss Innis was so unendurable that Miss Thorne
resolved to proceed at once to Mrs. Bennett's, where she could get
definite information. Her pride was beginning to give way before her
jealousy of a rival.
Mrs. Bennett was at home, and welcomed her dear 'Arabella' with more
than usual cordiality. A long conversation ensued before Miss Thorne
could bring herself to broach the delicate subject. At last, and it had
to be apropos of nothing, she said:
'Oh, I declare, I forgot. Do you know I am angry with you? Yes, very,
very angry.'
Mrs. Bennett immediately put on the proper expression.
'Tell me, quick, all about it,' she said. 'I will do penance if I have
given you cause.'
'Indeed, you have given great cause. You have undertaken to bring out a
gentleman, and your own cousin, too, without presenting him to me, and I
made up my mind never to speak to you again; but you see how I keep my
resolution.'
'Poor Mr. Meeker!' exclaimed Mrs. Bennett. 'He little thinks in what
trouble he has involved me.'
'But what have you to say for _yourself_?' persisted Miss Thorne.
'I declare, Arabella, I don't know what to say. Cousin Hiram is so odd
and so obstinate on some points, although in most respects the best
creature in the world.'
'Why, what can you mean?'
'I can hardly explain what I do mean. In short, while Cousin Hiram asks
my advice in many matters, and, indeed, follows it; yet, where ladies
are concerned, he is as obstinate as a mule.'
'But what has that to do with your not presenting him?'
'Well, since you must know,' hesitated Mrs. Bennett, 'he declined being
introduced to you.'
'Declined!'
'Yes.'
'It is all through that hateful Mary Innis!' exclaimed Miss Thorne,
reddening with rage. 'I know it. I am sure of it. Yes, I see through it
all--all.'
'I dare say,' returned Mrs. Bennett. 'I can't believe it either,' she
continued. 'He is not so easily influenced. But, Arabella, my dear,
think no more of the matter. You will like Mr. Meeker, I know, when you
do meet, and all the more for any little obstacle at the beginning. I
was just thinking how I could bring you together. What do you say to
dropping in at--no, that won't do. I have it; come round this very
evening and take tea with us. Mr. Meeker is almost sure to come in. He
has not been here this week.'
'Arabella' had her little objections.
'Nonsense, my darling. I am determined you two shall become acquainted
before Mrs. Jones's party, and that is next Thursday. Don't forget how
fond you are of waltzing, and there Cousin Hiram is superb.'
'I know it,' said Miss Thorne, with a sigh. 'But won't it look strange?'
'Look strange to do what you have done so often, my darling! Now,
Arabella, I won't take 'no' from you.'
'I consent,' said Miss Thorne, languidly. 'He won't be rude to me, will
he?'
'Rude! why, Arabella, what do you take him for?'
The ladies separated in great good humor.
Miss Thorne, with a view to be revenged on Miss Innis, was determined to
secure our hero on any terms. She was at Mrs. Bennett's at the appointed
hour. On this occasion her toilette was elaborately simple. She always
exhibited, not only great taste, but great propriety, in dress. On this
occasion one might readily suppose that, running in for a brief call,
she had been induced to prolong her stay.
About eight o'clock, who should arrive but Hiram! What a singular
coincidence!
An introduction followed.
Miss Thorne was very natural. She appeared entirely at ease, receiving
Hiram with quiet cordiality, as if he were a member of the family.
Hiram, on his part, did not exhibit any of those disagreeable qualities
for which he received credit, but was apparently quite disarmed by the
domesticity of the scene.
The conversation became general, and all joined in it. After a while Mr.
Bennett withdrew to 'spend a half hour at the club,' assuring Miss
Thorne he would return in ample time to hand her to her carriage.
Presently the servant called Mrs. Bennett, and hero and heroine were
left alone together.
There was an awkward pause, which was first broken by Arabella, when the
conversation ran on much in this way:
'We are to have a very gay season, I believe.'
'Indeed!'
'I suppose you take a great interest in it?'
'Quite the contrary. I take very little.'
'Still, you seem to enjoy parties.'
'Why, yes. When I go, the best thing I can do is to enjoy them.'
'But you like to go, don't you?'
'I can scarcely say I do--sometimes, perhaps.'
'A person who waltzes as well as you do ought to like parties, I am
sure.'
'I feel very much flattered to have you praise my waltzing.'
There was another pause. It was again broken by Miss Thorne.
'Do you know I think you so droll?'
'Me! pray, what is there droll about me?'
'Oh, I don't know. I can't tell. But you are droll--very droll.'
'Really, I was not conscious of it.'
'Were you aware that you occupy a seat directly in front of me in
church?'
'Certainly; that's not droll, is it?'
'Well, yes; I think it is, rather. But that is not what I was going to
say. Will you answer me one question truly? It will seem strange for me
to ask it,' simpered Arabella; 'but you must know your cousin Mrs.
Bennett and I are the dearest friends--the _very_ dearest friends; and
meeting you here, it seems different, and I am not so much afraid of
you.'
Hiram sat with eyes wide open, in affected ignorance of what could
possibly come next.
'Now you put me out, indeed you do; I can never say what I was going to,
in the world.'
'_Do_,' said Hiram, gently.
'Well, will you tell me why you refused to be introduced to me, and who
it is that has so prejudiced you against me?'
'No one, I assure you,' replied Hiram.
'Then why did you decline the introduction? It is of no use to deny it;
I know you _did_ decline it.'
'I heard you were an heiress,' replied Hiram naively, 'and I don't like
heiresses.'
'Why not, pray?'
'Oh, for various reasons. They are always such vain, stuck-up creatures.
Then they are excessively requiring, and generally disagreeable.'
'You saucy thing, you,' exclaimed Miss Thorne, but by no means in a
displeased tone.
'Then why did you ask me? I must tell the truth. I confess I did not
want to make your acquaintance. Everybody was talking about Miss
Thorne--Miss Thorne--Miss Thorne. For my part, it made me detest you.'
'Oh, you horrible creature,' said Arabella, now quite appeased.
'I don't deny it,' continued Hiram, pleasantly. 'I repeat, I can't bear
an heiress. I wouldn't marry one for the whole world.'
'Why, pray?'
'Because she would want her separate purse and separate property, and it
would be _her_ house, and _her_ horses and carriage, _her_ coachman, and
so on. Oh no--nothing of that for me. I will be master of my own
establishment.'
'What a savage you are! I declare it is as refreshing to hear you talk
as it would be to visit a tribe of Indians.'
'You are complimentary.'
'You see I do you justice, though we are enemies. But tell me now that
you have been introduced to me, do I seem at all dangerous?'
Hiram Meeker's countenance changed from an expression of pleasant
badinage to one of sentimental interest, while he gazed abstractedly in
the young lady's face, without making any reply.
Arabella's heart beat violently, she scarce knew why.
'You do not answer,' she said.
'I cannot tell,' said Hiram, dreamily; then, starting, as if from a
revery, he said, in his former tone, 'Oh, your sex are all dangerous;
only there are degrees.'
'I see you are not disposed to commit yourself. I will not urge you. But
do you think you will be afraid to waltz with me at the next party?'
'It was the introduction I objected to, not the waltz.'
'Then you consent?'
'With your permission, gladly.'
'The first waltz at the next party?'
'The first waltz at the next party.'
It is not necessary to detail the conversation which ensued, and which
was of a more general nature, referring to New York society, life _à la
mode_, the reigning belles, then by an easy transition to Mr. Myrtle,
and topics connected with St. Jude's. Soon they fell into quite a
confidential tone, as church subjects of mutual interest were discussed,
so that, when Mrs. Bennett returned to the room, it seemed almost like
an interruption.
'I knew you two would like each other if you ever became acquainted,'
said Mrs. Bennett, with animation.
'Pray, how do you arrive at any such conclusion?' replied Miss Thorne,
in a reserved tone, while she gave Hiram a glance which was intended to
assure him she was merely assuming it.
'Oh, never mind, my dear; it is not of so much consequence about your
liking Hiram. You may detest him, if you please, but I am resolved he
shall like you, for you are my pet, you know.'
Arabella looked affectionate, and Hiram laughed.
'Oh, you may laugh as much as you please; men cannot understand our
attachments for each other, can they, Arabella?'
'No, indeed.'
'That is true enough,' quoth Hiram.
After Mr. Bennett came in, a handsome little supper was served. That
concluded, Hiram waited on Miss Thorne to her carriage.
'I shall expect you to take back all the naughty things you have said
about me to your cousin,' she said, very sweetly, after she was seated.
'About you, yes; but not about the _heiress_. But--but if you were not
one, I do think I should like you pretty well. As it is, the objection
is insuperable; good night.'
Away went carriage and horses and Arabella Thorne. Hiram stepped back
into the house.
'My wife says you have made a splendid hit to-night, Hiram,' remarked
Mr. Bennett.
'Does she?' replied the other, in an absent tone.
* * * * *
Hiram went late to Mrs. Jones's party.
So did Miss Thorne.
In a pleasant mood, Mrs. Bennett walked with her cousin to where the
heiress was standing, and said, 'Miss Thorne, this is Mr. Meeker. I
believe, however, you have met before.'
The waltzing had already commenced, and Hiram led his not unwilling
partner to the floor, where they were soon giddily whirling, to the
intense admiration of the lookers on.
It was now Hiram felt grateful to the unknown young lady who taught him
how to waltz _close_. He practised it on this occasion to perfection.
Arabella, by degrees, leaned more and more heavily. One arm resting
fondly on his shoulder, she was drawn into immediate contact with
Hiram's _calculating_ heart. Round and round she sped--round and round
sped Hiram, until the two were so blended that it was difficult to
decide who or what were revolving.
At last Arabella was forced to yield. Faintly she sighed, 'I must stop,'
and Hiram, coming to a graceful termination, seated her in triumph--the
master of the situation!
Miss Innis looked on and smiled. Others expressed their admiration of
the performance. None could deny it was very perfect.
Soon they were on the floor again, and again Arabella struggled hard for
the mastery. It was in vain. After repeated attempts to hold the field,
she was obliged to yield.
Hiram was too familiar with the sex to attempt to pursue his advantage.
Indeed, Miss Arabella, having accomplished her object in showing Miss
Innis that she _could_ monopolize Hiram if she chose, would have been
quite ready to play the coquette and assume the dignified.
Hiram was prepared for this, and further was resolved not to expose
himself to any manifestation of her caprice. He perceived Miss Thorne
was disinclined to converse, and fancied she was preparing to be
reserved. So he passed quietly into the next room, where he found Miss
Innis quite ready to welcome him, though surrounded by a number of
gentlemen. He claimed her for the next waltz by virtue of an engagement
entered into at Mrs. Jones's. Soon the music commenced, and away they
went, responsive to its fascinating strains. Both waltzed admirably.
They entered with zest into the spirit of the scene and with that
sympathy of motion which makes every step so easy and so enjoyable.
There was no rivalry, no holding out against the other. The pauses were
natural, not by either, but, as it were, by mutual understanding. Miss
Thorne was also on the floor with a very showy partner, doing her best
to attract attention. She managed, as she swept by her rival,
_accidentally_ to step on her dress in a very damaging manner. But Miss
Innis was one of those natural creatures who are never discomfited by
such an occurrence. She very quietly withdrew, and in about two minutes
was on the floor again.
'It is well,' said Hiram to her in a low tone, 'that this happened to
you instead of Miss Thorne.'
'Why?'
'Because she never could have appeared again the same evening.'
Miss Innis smiled, and spoke of something else. The little hit did not
seem in the least to gratify her.
Hiram noted this. 'Youth and beauty can well afford to be amiable, but
it does not always happen that they are so,' he whispered.
Miss Innis looked at him seriously, but made no reply; and the two took
seats within the recess of a window.
At this moment Miss Thorne, having stopped waltzing, passed across the
room to the same vicinity, and stood talking with a gentleman, in a
position to command a view of the couple just seated. As Hiram raised
his eyes he encountered hers, for she was looking intently toward him.
He saw enough to be satisfied that his plans were working to perfection.
Without appearing to notice her presence, he continued the conversation
with his partner, and so engrossing did it become on both sides that
neither seemed aware of the rapid flight of the hours. And it was only
when Miss Innis perceived that the rooms were becoming thinned that she
started up with an exclamation of surprise that it was so late.
Hiram Meeker walked slowly homeward. He could not resist a certain
influence from stealing over him.
'Why is it,' he muttered to himself, 'that all the handsome girls are
without money, and all the rich ones are ugly?'
He drew a long sigh, as if it were hard for him to give up such a lovely
creature. He soon reached his lodgings, and going to his room, he seated
himself before the fire, which burned cheerfully in the grate, and
remained for a time completely lost in thought.
* * * * *
O Hiram Meeker, is it even now too late to obey some natural instincts?
You are well embarked in affairs, have already made money enough to
support a wife pleasantly. Your business is daily increasing, your
mercantile position for a young man remarkably well assured. Here is a
really lovely young girl--a little spoiled, it may be, by fashionable
associations, but amiable, intelligent, and true hearted. Probably you
might win her, for she seems to like you. The connection would give you
position, for you would marry into an old and most respectable family.
True, you have conducted yourself shamefully toward Emma Tenant--to say
nothing of Miss Burns. Let that pass. There is still opportunity to
retrace. Attempt to win Miss Innis. If you do win her, what a happy home
will be yours! As for Miss Thorne--Hiram, you _know_ what she is. You
despise her in your heart. Besides, she is almost twenty-nine--you but
twenty-seven. Will her money compensate? O Hiram, stop--stop now, and
think!
This may have been the revery of Hiram Meeker.
* * * * *
At last he rose and prepared to retire. Doubtless he had made a final
and irrevocable decision.
What was it?