BOOK III.

(UN)COMMON SENSE.

I.

My first impulse was to become a woman of business, and assume the

entire control of my inheritance. Excepting a few charitable bequests

and some trifling legacies, everything was left to me. I was even made

executrix; but my father had indicated in a separate paper that in

regard to matters out of my knowledge I could safely consult his own

legal adviser, Horatio Chelm.

Mr. Chelm was the conventional idea of a successful lawyer,--withered,

non-committal, and a little fusty; but technicalities had failed to

harden his heart or obscure his good sense. He had a sunny smile, which

refreshed my sad spirit when I called upon him shortly after the funeral

to inform him of my purpose, and made me feel that I could confide in

him.

"What, my dear young lady! take entire charge of four million dollars? I

admire your business ambition, but I must tell you that such a task is

impossible, if you wish to have leisure for anything else. No, no! your

father could not have meant that. I knew him well, and he was the last

man to have wished to make you a slave to your good fortune. With an

income of nearly two hundred thousand dollars you can afford to leave to

some one else the anxiety and drudgery attendant on the care of your

property. Your father wished you to enjoy his money and use it well. He

has told me so himself. He was very fond and very proud of you, Miss

Harlan."

"But he was very anxious to have me understand business matters, Mr.

Chelm," I replied.

"And he was quite right, too. Don't think for a moment I am dissuading

you from undertaking a general supervision of your property and trying

to know all about it. It is your duty under the circumstances, I fully

agree. But it would never do to have you spending the best years of your

life cooped up in an office cutting off coupons and worrying over

investments. Not, to be sure, that there is much to be done at present,

for I never saw a cleaner list of securities than yours; but you have no

idea of the amount of watchfulness required to keep an estate like this

unimpaired. A family of children are nothing to it, ha! ha! No, Miss

Harlan, I tell you what we will do; you shall have a little office

adjoining mine, where you can spend one day in every week transacting

what is necessary in regard to your property. Everything shall be in

your name, and nothing done without your full understanding and consent.

I will be at hand to be plied with questions, and you shall become as

wise in finance as Necker himself. But I pray you to devote the six

remaining days to other things, and leave to us dry, matter-of-fact

lawyers the details of your business. I have a great many millions under

my control, and the percentage which I should derive from the care of

yours is a matter of indifference to me; but I am very much concerned

that you should not make the fatal mistake of becoming a mere feminine

trustee."

I yielded to persuasion; and in accordance with his promise a little

room adjoining his own private office was allotted to me, and every

Monday morning I drove down-town and spent the day in poring over the

ledgers and deeds and reports, and in taking a general scrutiny of my

affairs. At first it was all very confusing, but by degrees order was

reduced out of chaos to my understanding, and I learned to take a keen

interest in the points submitted to me for my decision. At first I felt

some humiliation in perceiving that my opinion was consulted merely

from form and courtesy,--or, more roughly, because the law required it.

I was forced to laugh and shake my head and acknowledge that I was not

capable of judging. I had hoped that I knew enough to be of service

sometimes, and the consciousness of my ignorance spurred me to

determined exertions to overcome the deficiency. Contrary to our

compact, I read and studied at home books relating to financial and

economical matters; I concealed railway reports in my muff, and tried

various artifices to acquire knowledge unbeknown to Mr. Chelm. But it

was chiefly to his kindness and unwearying attention that I owed the

proficiency I gradually acquired; and I think it was as genuine a

pleasure to him as to me, when at last I was able, with a moderate

degree of confidence, to choose for myself between two lines of conduct.

I often asked myself what I should have done had I attempted to act

alone from the start.

But it was not long before another interest incident to and growing out

of this began to occupy my thoughts and time. The bulk of my daily mail

was increased by subscription lists and circulars soliciting my

assistance to every kind of charity and enterprise. People whom I had

never seen, came to the house to ask aid for struggling talent. I was

importuned with begging letters from victims to all sorts of distress.

Zealous philanthropists wrote that they had taken the liberty of putting

down my name as a member of their societies, and that the annual

assessment was now due and payable. Here again I had recourse to the

counsel of Mr. Chelm, whose experience, as I have hinted, radiated

beyond the limits of his lucrative practice, and who was not only

liberal toward the poor, but familiar with their needs. From him I

obtained a variety of hints and suggestions that enabled me to give my

money and time intelligently, and also to refuse them without remorse. I

was very glad of this new duty, which easily became a great pleasure

despite my occasional disgust at the impertinence of some applicants

when it was discovered that I was ready to subscribe freely. I was not

however satisfied with the easy work of giving, but soon passed from the

passive act of signing cheques to active work among the needy. I studied

the theories of tenement houses and hygiene, and became a leading spirit

in several charitable organizations.

I renewed also my old habit of reading, and no longer confined myself to

the philosophic and dry subjects pursued under Mr. Fleisch. But I was

conscious that the zest which I felt in renewing a wider range of study

was due to the fact of my having acquired from his instruction a degree

of industry and a power to appreciate that I had not previously

possessed. At the suggestion of Mr. Chelm, whom I allured to chat with

me regarding outside subjects when my business was finished, I read with

regularity the leading newspapers and magazines. A familiarity with the

former he declared to be indispensable to a knowledge of current

affairs, and also that much of the freshest and most valuable thought of

the day was first made public through the medium of periodicals. This

practice received likewise the approval of Aunt Helen, who assured me

that she always felt lost for the day if she had not looked at the

Deaths and Marriages.

One of my first steps had been to ask Aunt Helen to come and live with

me; to which she finally consented, though the consequent necessity of

disestablishing her cosey little parlor, upon the embellishment of which

she had spent the overflow of her income for years, cost her many a

pang. But she was a far-seeing woman, and had I dare say, while

accepting my offer, a delightful vision of helping me to live up to the

duties of my position. I can only say that she soon began to impress the

importance of this upon me by hints more or less palpable; and it was

not long before she was to all intents and purposes the real

house-keeper. It was still, to be sure, I that ordered the dinners and

engaged the servants, but even in these minor details I was alive to her

suggestions; while in the matter of the general direction of what went

on, her wishes were supreme. At first I was too sad to be other than

indifferent; and later it was a relief to me to have taken off my

shoulders the bother of many things which I felt instinctively ought to

be done. I could trust Aunt Helen's taste; and so she had my tacit

permission to follow out her own inclinations in the way of change and

improvements. Under her supervision the house was almost entirely

refurnished and adorned with the most exquisite specimens of upholstery

and bric-a-brac obtainable. So too, as time went on, she increased the

number and raised the standard of the domestics, and persuaded me to buy

a variety of horses and equipages. It was she who kept the grooms up to

the mark regarding the proper degree of polish for the harnesses, and

she spent many days in the selection of an artistic design for the

crest to be emblazoned upon them. So far as was possible she represented

that all these things were done at my desire and out of her sheer good

nature. When I drove with her from shop to shop, as I often did to save

myself from depressing thoughts, she invariably made me pass a formal

approval upon whatever charmed her eye. If this innocent self-deceit

gave her pleasure, it did not seem to me worth while to protest.

And so by the time I left off my mourning, there was little left to be

done to make my establishment one of the most elegant in the city. Aunt

Helen now turned her attention to my clothes. The costumes which I

suffered her to select were marvels of Parisian art and New York

adaptiveness. She sought too, by frequent allusions to my increased

personal beauty, to arouse my vanity and induce me to throw off the pall

of soberness that had settled upon my spirit. When this failed, she had

recourse to an opposite policy, and repeated to me the remarks she

overheard in coming out of church and elsewhere concerning me. Many of

my acquaintances, she said, were of the opinion that I was eccentric and

partial to "advanced" ideas. Another story current was that I had been

compelled by my father on his death-bed, on pain of disinheritance, to

dismiss a young artist to whom I was passionately attached. There was

the same grain of truth to a bushel of error in the remaining

conjectures; but Aunt Helen assured me that every one agreed I was

peculiar, and deemed it unfortunate that a young lady possessed of such

signal advantages should be different from all the rest of the world.

Even I, unobservant as I was at this time, was made aware by the curious

glances directed at me as I descended from my carriage, that to a

certain extent an heiress belongs to the public.

Continual dropping, however, will wear away the hardest stone, and Aunt

Helen was not one to weary in what she considered well-doing. When

nearly three years had elapsed after my father's death, I yielded to her

urgency and consented to inaugurate my return to society by giving a

large ball. The idea came to me one night when I was feeling depressed

and discouraged over my failure to obtain more than a passive sort of

happiness in my present occupations. There were so many philanthropists,

I thought. I had even begun to feel that the poor were extremely well

provided for, and that in some respects they were really rather better

off than I was. For despite my studies and my hours with Mr. Chelm, and

the society meetings which I attended, I was conscious at heart of being

lonely. My ideas too had received certain impressions regarding the

people who composed society that were quite foreign to those which had

given me an aversion to it. Since my accession to an enormous fortune my

attention had naturally been directed to the conduct of people situated

similarly to myself. At first I was shocked and made morbid by the whirl

of selfish pleasure and dissipation that seemed to characterize the

lives of this class. But when I came to look a little deeper, I was

surprised to find how many people among the rich whom I had judged to be

simply frivolous and indifferent were in reality earnest workers in the

various fields of philanthropy, science, or art, for the most part

carrying on their investigations unobserved. Among them were a number of

my old acquaintances with whom at the charitable and other gatherings

where we met I had resumed the associations of four years ago; and I was

struck by the serious spirit that now seemed to determine their actions.

It was clear to me that earnest-minded people existed among the very

wealthy no less than among those less fortunately circumstanced; and as

this grew more apparent, I began to catch a glimpse of what my father

had meant in speaking of wealth as the power and possibility of the

world. Was it not essential to leisure; and leisure to refinement and

culture? And where necessity ceased to control action, ought there not

to be a greater chance for excellence and progress?

These growing impressions served to temper the almost morbid tendency of

my thoughts to the extent that I have indicated. We gave a grand ball,

and under the stimulus of the cordial welcome given me I became the

gayest of the gay, and surprised not only my old acquaintances but

myself by the vivacity and desire to please of which I proved capable.

Without undue confidence, I can say that I achieved a triumph, and put

to rout the various uncomplimentary conjectures that the world had

hazarded in regard to me. Society opened its arms to me as a returning

prodigal, and my revulsion of feeling was all the more spontaneous from

the fact, that, if some of my former acquaintances were as frivolous as

ever, they had learned to conceal their emptiness by an adaptability

which made them agreeable companions. There was a keen satisfaction,

too, in the consciousness which became mine, as I went from house to

house during the following weeks, that I excelled the most of them in

the power to make myself agreeable. The reading and study of the past

few years enabled me to shine as a conversationalist, and in my present

regenerated mood I had, on the other hand, no temptation to play the

pedant or moralist. I tried to be amusing and to appear clever; and I

was pleased to read a favorable verdict upon my effort in the attentions

of men as a rule unsusceptible, and in the amazed countenance of Aunt

Helen.

Her satisfaction at the course of events was not disguised; but she was

diplomatic enough, in her conversations with me, not to take to

herself the glory of the evolution. She contented herself by way of

recrimination in such expressions as--"To think, Virginia, how near you

came to throwing yourself away!" and, "It takes a great load off my mind

to see you yourself once again." But after the first few entertainments

at which we were present together, I often caught her looking at me with

a sort of wonder, as though she could scarcely believe that the

brilliant young person whose reappearance in the social world was the

sensation of a successful season could really be her niece.

One evening as we were sitting after our return from an especially

pleasant dinner-party, Aunt Helen surveyed me contentedly through her

eye-glass, and said:--

"I have never seen you look or appear better in your life than you did

to-night, my dear. Your dress set to perfection, and you were very

agreeable."

I dropped a little curtsy in return.

"Yes," she continued, "I will not disguise that there was a time about a

year ago when I felt very anxious in regard to you. Eccentricity, as I

have often told you before, is all very well when one has nothing to

lose and everything to gain by it. I can understand how a young person

with no antecedents or opportunities for getting on in society might

secure a temporary advantage by making herself an object of remark. But

in your case it has always seemed to me wholly inexplicable. Every one

knows who you are and all about you, already. However, all is well that

ends well, and it is an unspeakable relief to me that you have come to

your senses at last."

"Don't crow, Aunt Helen, until you are out of the woods. I may be merely

a meteor that will vanish some day as quickly as I appeared, and leave

you all in the dark."

"You are your own mistress, of course. If I take any credit to myself

for what you are to-day, Virginia, it is because I have never interfered

with anything you chose to do. I have expressed my opinion of course

when I thought you were making mistakes, but I have stopped short at

that. Others in the same position might have behaved differently; but it

is not my way. I said to myself, 'If her own good sense does not teach

her, nothing will.' So, too, now that you have justified my confidence

in you, I have no temptation to act otherwise. You will do what you

prefer, of course. But naturally I have my own ideas as to what is

desirable for you."

"You have been very good to me always," I replied, smiling at this bland

assumption of tact; "and I always like to hear what you have to say."

"Well, dear, it seems to me that with a very little trouble you can have

the most attractive house in town. One hears it so often said that we

have nothing to correspond to what the French call _salons_,--those

delightful entertainments one reads about, where every one is either

clever or distinguished. Of course every one is not really clever, but

made to appear so,--the whole secret lying in the power of some charming

and talented woman to select and combine harmoniously: even the most

stupid people (if it is necessary to invite them) are made to say

amusing things. You know of course what I mean. It has been tried here,

but rarely with success. It requires both brains and personal

attractions, and our women who possess one are too apt to imagine they

have the other also. But it has occurred to me, several times lately,

that you are just the person to attempt it. I may say without flattery,

dear, that you are considered very handsome, and people have an

impression that you are clever,--which is better even than really being

so, and I do not mean to say that you are not, for I think you are. You

have had an excellent education, and have a taste for books, and all

that sort of thing. The fact that you have been known to be peculiar

would rather add to your chances of success than otherwise, for it would

throw a little air of mystery about you. Then you have a beautiful house

and the means to entertain elegantly; and last, but not least, you have

an assured position. The trouble is so apt to be, that those who attempt

anything of the sort are not known. All the talent in the world will not

be able to constitute a _salon_ unless one possesses, and is intimate

with others who possess, that indescribable something which every one

understands, but which it is difficult to put into words. Yes, Virginia,

you have a great opportunity before you, if only you choose to take

advantage of it."

Curiously enough, this view of Aunt Helen was quite similar to certain

ideas which I myself had been revolving since my return to conventional

habits. I foresaw that my interest in balls and parties merely as such

was sure to wane before long, and that if I wished to obtain continued

diversion from society it must be by force of some such programme as

that which she had suggested. In short, I felt that the tone and

standard of social life might be raised if one set about it in the right

way. As Aunt Helen said, there were really no reasons why my house

should not become a centre of elegance and refinement, which, however

far distant from the conception of a _salon_, might give pleasure of a

legitimate sort to a large number of people.

So much did this scheme grow upon me, that by another winter I was busy

in putting it into execution. Thanks to the past energy of Aunt Helen,

my house was already very nearly up to the mark as a model of luxury and

taste. I gave a series of entertainments which I sought to make as

distinguished and agreeable as possible. Upon a foundation of the most

fastidious and well-bred of my acquaintances I cast a sprinkling of

clever men who commonly found parties a bore, original but outlandish

women, representatives of every sort of talent, local and visiting

celebrities, and every desirable stranger in town. They all would be

glad to come for once, I knew. The vital point was to induce them to

come again. To effect this, I left no stone unturned and begrudged no

expenditure. I found it somewhat up-hill work at first, but none the

less were my efforts crowned with success in the end. My house grew to

be the favorite resort alike of the fashionable and the cultivated; and

to keep it so created an interest in my life which relieved the

sombreness of my other occupations.

In the pursuance of this object I gave free scope to a taste which I had

been educating in a quiet way ever since my youth,--that of collecting

pictures. I had a room in the house admirably adapted for the purpose

fitted up as a gallery, and in a short time had got together the nucleus

of a valuable display of masterpieces. By degrees it came to be known

that this was the case, and I found pleasure in allowing the public to

see them on certain days.

One day I was puzzled by the arrival of a picture carefully boxed up and

addressed to me, which on opening I discovered to be the portrait of me

which Paul Barr had painted. In selecting material for my entertainments

I had naturally thought of him among the first, but inquiry failed to

discover his whereabouts. He had left town a few days subsequent to the

harassing scene between us, and there were no traces of him beyond the

direction on the door of his studio that all communications intrusted to

the janitor of the building would ultimately reach him. To this address

I sent several notes of invitation, hoping perhaps to catch him on the

wing or lure him from retirement. But at the time the portrait arrived I

had ceased to make further attempts. There was no note or card

accompanying it, but the bold superscription left no doubt in my mind as

to the donor. A few weeks later I was astonished and delighted at one of

my receptions to see the artist-poet's massive figure towering above the

other guests, and an instant later we had exchanged the most cordial of

hand-shakings, attended on his part as ever by profuse gesture and

compliment, and on mine by genuine good-will, which it was easy to see

he reciprocated. He looked little changed, unless it were that he was

handsomer and more extraordinary than formerly, and his presence caused

much lively speculation as to the new celebrity I had unearthed. He had

been abroad, studying and travelling,--and trying to forget, he added.

The last he had found impossible, he said; but though he sighed as he

spoke, I knew that his wound was healed. He was to resume his work at

once; had brought back a host of ideas he was eager to put into

execution, and was what he called "under the mastery of the twin

demi-gods--necessity and aspiration."

Later I thanked him for his picture, which I told him, as was notably

the case, artistic circles were raving over. Indeed, when I let it be

known that the handsome stranger was no other than Paul Barr, whose

genius was already celebrated, he received an ovation. Nor was it

exhausted at my house. He was instantly taken up by the critics and by

fashionable folk alike, to such an extent that I became apprehensive

lest so much attention would detract from the merit of his new work. But

though I feared from what was whispered concerning him that his

temperament and habits were still mercurial, he had evidently studied to

some purpose; for his pictures, the _abandon_ of which would have

shocked Mr. Spence more than ever, became instantly the vogue, and

brought him speedy fame and fortune. For both of these he persisted in

considering himself indebted to me. I never ventured to run the risk of

wounding his sensibilities by offering him anything for the portrait,

although in a merchantable sense its value was excessive.

I have not spoken of my Aunt Agnes; but up to this time there was little

to be said of her. She kept up the even tenor of her ways, which

included a repellent air toward me for long after my father's death. She

might have forgotten and forgiven the past, but in my choice of Aunt

Helen as a companion I had added insult to injury. There was no open

breach of course, but our relations were not cordial. I tried at times

to ameliorate the situation by sending her presents, and trying to let

her see when we met that I was still studious and anxious to lead a

sober life. But all in vain. She was resolute in the belief that to have

refused an offer of marriage from such a man as Mr. Spence was

inconsistent with a serious desire for self-improvement. She doubtless

was abetted in this view by Miss Kingsley, who continued to be intimate

at her house despite her increasing appropriation of Mr. Spence. The

philosopher was said to be more and more under her thrall every day, as

I was informed by Mr. Fleisch whom I invited to several of my

receptions. He told me he was himself no longer in harmony with Mr.

Spence, or rather that the master could not afford to pay him a

sufficient salary to warrant him in devoting his entire time to the

doctrine of Moderation. His condensed music had not sold, and he had

been forced, in order to support his wife and child (for he was married

now), to adopt the old system of composition, and to give music lessons.

This had caused a coolness on the part of Mr. Spence, who, as Mr.

Fleisch expressed it, wished to have all or none. But though he was no

longer the chief disciple, he held the master in the profoundest regard

and affection. He assured me, with tears in his eyes, that nothing but

the stress of absolute want could have induced him to sacrifice artistic

truth to expediency, and that he stole hours from sleep that he might

continue to carry on his investigations still. Here again I was able to

be of some service, for I introduced Mr. Fleisch as a competent and

conscientious musical instructor to a number of my friends, who seemed

to find him all that I described. He played several of his pieces at my

house with much _eclat_, even including one of those which illustrated

Moderation. But I noticed as he became more popular and prosperous that

he seemed content to adhere to the conventional methods, and to avoid

allusion to his former hobbies.

Though I sent cordial invitations to Mr. Spence to lecture at my

receptions, he invariably declined. I sometimes fancied that it might be

because I did not extend them to Miss Kingsley also. I judged from what

I saw in the newspapers, as well as from what Mr. Fleisch told me, that

the number of his followers was diminishing in spite of his most earnest

efforts, and that Miss Kingsley was now his only really devoted

supporter. The knowledge of this counteracted my scruples against her so

far that I sent an invitation to them both, with the assurance that Mr.

Spence's lecture should be the feature of the occasion. They accepted,

not altogether to my surprise, and I did my best to select an

appreciative audience. Mr. Spence looked worn and dispirited I thought,

but as he warmed to his theme the light in his eyes seemed as vivid as

ever. The sweetness of his tones was however unfortunately impaired by a

heavy cold, and though I, being familiar with the lecture,--"Tension

and Torpor of the Nerves,"--felt some of my old enthusiasm, it was soon

evident to me that the majority of his listeners were bored. The

appearance of Miss Kingsley likewise created an impression that reacted

on the philosopher. She was very much overdressed, and made a marked

effort to carry the assembly by storm. She played the double role of a

would-be arch coquette and hero-worshipper, and while chanting the

talent of the lecturer, omitted no effort to secure admiration on her

own account. There are always a few men who are amused for the moment by

this sort of thing, but I could see the eye-glasses of the censors

raised wonderingly, and the turned shoulders grow colder, as the evening

advanced. I was sorry for them both, even for her; and not many days

after, I wrote Mr. Spence a long letter, in which I referred to the

great influence in the way of discipline which I felt his instruction

had had upon me, and inclosed a check for a considerable sum, which I

asked him to accept as a contribution towards endowing a school where

lectures should be delivered on the leading features of Moderation. I

cannot say that I did this without some scruples, on the score that I no

longer had much faith in the soundness of any of his ideas, but I

condoned the weakness with my conscience by debiting the amount to

charity. After all, he could not do much harm by his teachings, and I

hated to think that a man so earnest as he should know the bitterness of

total failure.

But my kind intentions met a cruel rebuff. On the following morning I

received a formal note in Miss Kingsley's handwriting, which stated that

Mr. Spence had desired her to say that it was impossible for him to

accept the money, and that she was my "obedient servant, Lucretia

Kingsley." My attention was called by a friend the same day to a long

item in the "Sunday Mercury," which while extolling the lecture of Mr.

Spence at my house, and announcing that among the guests was the

"authoress Miss Kingsley, who wore, etc." contained a disagreeable

comment on what was called "the lavish luxury and lack of discriminating

reverence for the best sentiments of the day, which characterized the

principal parlors."

The next time I went to see Aunt Agnes I received an explanation of this

conduct, though my name had appeared once or twice before during the

past few years in uncomplimentary paragraphs. She upbraided me at once

with a renewed attempt to divert the attention of Mr. Spence from his

labors to myself. Miss Kingsley had come to her with tears in her eyes,

and described the Babylonian influences by which I had sought to seduce

him. He had gone, she said, at the call of duty to accomplish what good

he might, but never in the whole course of his professional experience

had his words fallen on a more flinty and barren soil. And then, as if

it were not enough to flaunt in the face of my old master the

extravagances most hostile to the theories of which he was the advocate,

I had sought to tempt him with money to become a perpetual presence at

my immoderate receptions.

"Bah!" exclaimed Aunt Agnes in the ardor of her indignation, as she

finished the account of Miss Kingsley's narrative,--"bah! Trying to lead

a sober life! Tell _me_! I hear on all sides that your house has become

a hot-bed of all that is worldly and luxurious in the city. And not

content with that, you are scheming to corrupt the one who in this

money-worshipping age is faithful to principle. I am almost disposed to

say for the last time, 'Go your own ways, and never come near me

again.'"

"Do not say that yet, Aunt Agnes. Wait a little," I answered, genuinely

moved by the distress of the old lady.

"If I were to wait until doomsday it would be still the same. You are no

longer a child; and though you have Harlan blood in your veins, I am

beginning to feel that I have wasted my best affections on a worthless

subject. If you were my own daughter, I could not have been more unhappy

on your account. Thank Heaven! I shall soon be in my grave."

I left the house feeling very much like crying, for the mood of Aunt

Agnes was less defiant and more pitiful than usual. It seemed as though

her iron spirit had yielded at last to the repeated opposition of an

unkind world. And of those who had resisted her wishes and commands I

was certainly among the chief. I had tried, was trying now, to live what

she liked to call a sober life,--but all in vain, so far as winning her

approval. Was there no way in which I could make her happy, and smooth

the stern frown from her features before she died? I would certainly

make the endeavor; and under the influence of this determination I

revolved with a freshened interest as I went along the street the

circumstances of a curious incident that had befallen me a week ago at

Mr. Chelm's office. So absorbed was I that I did not notice the

approach of Mr. Spence and Miss Kingsley until they were close upon me.

I bowed with politeness; but though the philosopher hesitated, he turned

his pale face away and looked in another direction. As for Miss

Kingsley, she regarded me with a cold and haughty stare, as though we

had never met.

II.

The incident to which I have vaguely alluded was the result of an

arrangement between Mr. Chelm and myself, that the door connecting our

offices should be left ajar during the visits of his clients, except

where privacy was important. In the latter case he was very careful, of

course, to close it; but unless he did so I had his permission to listen

to what was said. This soon became my favorite diversion, and I even

came to the office for the purpose on other days than my usual one. A

great many strange people came to consult Mr. Chelm, and I thus picked

up a stock of miscellaneous information about business matters as well

as some new ideas regarding human nature. Sometimes when the visitors

seemed particularly interesting I would venture to peep round the corner

or through the crack of the door, so as to catch a glimpse of them.

Afterward Mr. Chelm often told me more about them, and in instances

where pecuniary aid could be of service allowed me to come to the

rescue; for there were numerous persons who resorted to him for relief,

knowing that he was a charitable man who had helped others. If he had

the leisure, he always lent a sympathetic ear to their stories, and if

he could not aid them was uniformly kind and considerate.

I was struck by the number of applicants for employment. "Give us

something to do, and we can get along. We want work, not money," was the

too frequent petition, for it was just this class of persons whom Mr.

Chelm found it most difficult to assist. So many of them too were

educated and intelligent young men and women, unaccustomed to hardships

and to shift for themselves, driven out of work by the continued

hardness of the times. For nearly five years business had been at a

stand-still, Mr. Chelm told me, and as a consequence property had

depreciated sadly in value, and an immense amount of distress been

caused among people of moderate means. To many a tale of destitution I

thus listened with tears in my eyes, and on more than one occasion was

able to procure at least temporary occupation for the sufferers.

One morning as I was thus sitting hoping for some client to arrive, I

saw through the half open door a young man dressed in the height of

fashion, _bien gante, bien chausse_, and attended by the very ugliest

bull-terrier it had ever been my lot to gaze on, enter Mr. Chelm's

office. I had by this time learned to divine usually the errands of

clients before they began to speak, and I made up my mind that this

handsome young dandy--for he was extremely good-looking to boot--must be

the heir to some large estate which he wished to intrust to the care of

Mr. Chelm, or that he had got entangled with an actress, and was in

search of legal aid to release him from the meshes of the net. In either

event I expected to have the door closed in my face, and the stranger's

secret to remain sealed from me forever. I placed my chair however so

that I should be screened from observation and yet within earshot,

prepared to see and listen as long as should be possible.

The visitor drew a card from a very dainty case and laid it on Mr.

Chelm's desk.

"My name is Prime, sir,--Francis Prime. I have come to consult you on a

business matter."

"Pray sit down, Mr. Prime. What is it I can do for you?"

"You knew my father, I think?"

"Ralph Prime, of New York? Most assuredly. I had a high regard for

him."

"I am his only son. He died, as you may be aware, five years ago in

reduced circumstances, because he preferred to remain honest. An odd

erratic choice, was it not?"

"I was sorry to hear he had been unfortunate," answered Mr. Chelm

quietly.

"Yes, sir, paradoxical as it may seem, my father was an honest man. One

might have supposed his only son would inherit that trait, if nothing

else. But it must have skipped a generation. I am not what I seem. I am

a sham." He sat in silence for some minutes stroking his mustache.

"I judge that you have got into some difficulty, Mr. Prime. If so, I am

very sorry to hear it. Be frank with me, and as your father's friend I

will do what I can for you. But as a lawyer I must ask you to conceal

nothing." So saying Mr. Chelm made a move as if to close the door.

"Pray, do not trouble yourself, sir. My story is already known to so

many people that privacy is immaterial. Let me, instead, ask permission

to light a cigarette,--that is, if you do not object to smoking and are

sufficiently at leisure to hear me to the end."

"Certainly. Make it a cigar and I will join you; and pray try one of

these if you will, for my time is quite at your disposal," answered Mr.

Chelm, who it was evident to me was amused and puzzled by his visitor.

"Thank you." He settled himself comfortably in his chair, and after a

preliminary puff, said: "I am no ordinary felon. I am even not, strictly

speaking, amenable to the laws. I am however, as I have told you

already, a sham. The world believes me to be a young fellow of fortune,

whose only concern is with the cut of his coat and the smile of his

mistress. The world for once is in error. I am nothing of the sort.

Appearances are against me, I admit. Even you I fancy were deceived. No,

my dear sir, while every one judges me to be a mere butterfly of

fashion, I am an idealist at heart. And the worst of it is that no one

will believe me. All that I want is a chance, an opportunity to prove I

am that which I claim; but nobody will give it to me. If I venture to

suggest that I am in earnest, the statement excites sneers or ridicule.

For nearly two years I have been trying to find something to do, and

without success. I have exhausted my own city, and have now come to

yours. Your name was familiar to me as one which my father respected,

and it occurred to me to tell you my story. I am quite prepared to be

informed that there are a thousand applicants for every vacancy, and

that such a case as mine is not especially deserving. In one sense of

the word you would be right; there are others who suffer more acutely

than I, but few who suffer more unjustly. And the whole cause is to be

found in a single phrase,--I am a gentleman."

"You are indeed to be pitied," said Mr. Chelm, with an amused laugh.

"And what is more, it is not my fault. I am not responsible for it; I

was born so. My case is precisely opposite to that of most of my

contemporaries. They find it easy enough to get occupation, but very

difficult to be gentlemen; I know how to behave like a gentleman, but

can find nothing to do. Gentlemen are evolved, not made. Would to Heaven

I had been consulted on the subject! But I awoke one day and found

myself what I am. Let me rehearse to you briefly my qualifications. I

was sent to school abroad, and was graduated from college at home. I

speak fluently three modern languages besides my own, and have a bowing

acquaintance with two dead ones. I have read widely enough in history,

political economy, literature, science, and music to be superficial. I

can write verses, play on the piano and flute, fence, flirt, and lead

the cotillon. All this the public seem to recognize and give me credit

for; but when I ask them to take me seriously, as they would the veriest

beggar in the street, the frivolous look incredulous and giggle, and the

practical frown and point me to the door. And why? Simply,--and this

will, it may be, anticipate your criticism,--simply because I wear

well-fitting clothes, address a lady with gallantry, and change my coat

for dinner. Let me add at once, if you have no assistance to offer as to

how I shall find employment except to go from office to office with a

long face and baggy trousers, I must respectfully decline to take the

step. It has become a matter of pride with me: I draw the line there.

Call it volatile, foolish, obstinate, what you will,--I propose to be a

gentleman to the last. I will starve with a smile on my face and a

flawless coat on my back, though it be my only one. As I have said,

gentlemen are evolved, not made; and we owe it to our sons to keep up

the standard of the race. They will not even allow, sir, that I am an

American. I am received with scorn, and denied my birthright, not only

by those to whom I apply for work, but by the Arabs of the street and

the public press. I am not complaining; I am merely stating the facts of

the case. They even cast Ike in my teeth,--Ike the imperious,

beautifully ugly Ike," he added, stooping down to pat the bull-terrier,

who showed his teeth and growled affectionately. "Now, Mr. Chelm, you

have my story. I am in earnest. Will you help me?"

"I can understand your difficulties to some extent, Mr. Prime, and am

not altogether without sympathy for you," began the lawyer gravely,

after a short reflection. "The times are hard for everybody undeniably,

and especially for young men in your position. It is a comparatively

easy matter to draw a cheque to alleviate distress, but finding work for

anybody to-day is next to impossible. However, as one can never tell

what may turn up, let me ask you a blunt question. What are you fit for?

What can you do?"

"Here again, sir, the world would tell you that I was fit for nothing

except to play the lute beneath a lady's window. But if you will believe

me, I am not without business knowledge. Gentleman as I am, I have long

cherished an ambition to become a merchant prince (it is well to aspire

high),--a genuine merchant-prince, however, and not the counterfeit

article who accumulates millions for his children to squander. I have

views upon the subject. I am an idealist, as I have told you, and there

was a time when I thought my father very rich, and that I should be able

to carry out my theories. Since then I have resolved to win back before

I die the fortune he lost; and with a view to that I devote several

hours in each day (if this should be breathed abroad, my reputation for

consummate emptiness might suffer) to the study of exports and imports,

markets and exchanges, and all that relates to commercial affairs. You

asked me what I am fit for, Mr. Chelm. My father was a banker. I should

like to follow in his footsteps. But supplicants cannot be choosers.

Procure me a clerkship in any line of business, and I shall try to prove

myself worthy of your patronage."

"Humph! I wish I could help you, with all my heart. But, frankly, I know

of nothing at the moment. Bankers are discharging their clerks, not

engaging new ones. I will make inquiries however, and see if it is

possible to do anything for you. You have applied to all your friends in

New York, you say, without avail?"

"Entirely. The few who have any faith in my professions are powerless to

give me employment."

"Let me see: to-day is Wednesday. Can you call again on Saturday, Mr.

Prime? Mind, I promise nothing. In fact, I have every reason to believe

that I shall be unsuccessful."

The appointment thus made was due to my touching the electric bell in my

office,--a signal agreed upon as an indication of my desire to assist

any applicant for aid. Accordingly, when I entered Mr. Chelm's room

after his visitor was gone, I was greeted with a bantering smile.

"How now, my fair philanthropist! What scheme have you to relieve the

plight of this knight-errant?"

"In the first place," I said, "who is he? Do you believe his story? What

sort of a person was his father?"

"Three questions in one breath! The last is the easiest to answer. This

young man's father was one of the wealthiest bankers in New York fifteen

years ago. I knew him well: a man who was the very soul of honor, shrewd

and liberal in his business notions, and in his bearing the pattern of a

finished gentleman,--one of your genuine aristocrats; and, like his son,

a bit of a dandy. He came to grief, as so many of us do, through

misplaced confidence. Certain parties whom he trusted implicitly made a

wreck of his entire fortune. It was said at the time that he might have

saved a large portion of it, had he been willing to take advantage of a

legal technicality as against his creditors. But, as his son said, he

preferred to remain honest. He died not many years ago, and left this

boy very little, I fancy, but an untarnished name. Of the son I know

really nothing. I have never seen him before. He is not unlike his

father in appearance, and is even more fastidious in his dress. That may

be from bravado, of course. What he says about gentlemen not having a

fair chance in this country has a certain amount of truth in it."

"A great deal of truth, it seems to me," I answered.

"Very likely. But it is to be borne in mind that the so-called gentlemen

have a heavy score against them in the past. They have had their

innings; and now that they are out, democracy is not disposed to let

them off too easily. The sins of the forefathers being visited on the

children is a proverb as stable as the hills in its logical results."

"Yes. But do you not think it is cruel to turn the cold shoulder on a

man merely because he dresses well?"

"Undoubtedly. But they have themselves to blame for it. The world has

not yet got accustomed to the idea that a man with a flawless coat on

his back means to do anything. Not so very long ago such a thing was

unknown. I am willing to admit that when the gentlemen consent to work,

they make the best workers; but the burden of evidence, as we lawyers

say, is on them."

"The world refuses to believe because it is envious. There isn't one of

the business men who decline to give Mr. Prime a chance who wouldn't

give half his fortune to be like him if he could."

"You are a philosopher as well as a philanthropist, young lady, I see.

You may not be far wrong. But if Mr. Prime knew what a champion he has,

he would cease to despair. You asked, I think, if I believed his story.

It is quite evident what your opinion is," said Mr. Chelm, with a laugh.

"Very well then, I do believe it; and I want to help him."

"Romance against the lawyers, ha! ha!"

"I am a very determined young person when I make up my mind. You cannot

laugh me out of it, Mr. Chelm."

"Heaven forbid! But what do you propose to do?"

"Give him a chance."

The lawyer rubbed his chin reflectively. "I am perfectly willing to

resign in his favor, but otherwise I know of no vacancy either in your

or my gift to fill," he said with a smile.

"I cannot spare you yet. I have another plan."

"And that?"

"A very romantic one, as you have predicted. I propose to set him up in

business."

"As a gentleman?"

"He is that already. No, as a banker."

"Indeed!"

"What do you think of my idea?"

"I have heard only the beginning of it. It is natural enough to feel the

inclination to set a handsome young man up as a banker; but I fail to

comprehend yet the details of the scheme."

"I shall leave them to you."

"To me? But I regret to say, Miss Harlan, that I know of no

banking-house at present that would employ the services of this embryo

merchant-prince."

"Oh, but you don't or you won't understand me. What I propose is to

found a banking-house, and furnish the capital myself."

"What!" Mr. Chelm leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. "This

is romance with a vengeance. Would I were twenty-five, and in

search of occupation! And what, pray, is to be the name of the new

concern?--Harlan and Prime; or Virginia Harlan and Company? I am

confident it will be a partnership for life."

"Francis Prime and Company, of course. I will not submit to be laughed

at, Mr. Chelm. This is a serious business matter."

"Oh, most certainly! Thoroughly business-like in every sense! My dear

young lady, if you expect me to preserve my legal gravity you must not

be so humorous; it is beyond the self-control of even a fusty

conveyancer. And what part in this financial idyl am I expected to

play!"

"You are to arrange it all. I am to furnish the money, and remain

strictly incognito. That is the first and essential condition I impose."

"What! Mr. Prime is not to know the name of his benefactress?"

"On no account whatever!"

"He will be sure to search the earth until he finds her."

"Not if he be made to believe she is ancient and homely. Besides, how is

he to know it is a woman?"

"Forgive me, Miss Harlan, but no one except a woman could invent such a

project. It fairly takes my breath away. How much of your capital do you

propose to embark in the enterprise,--the whole four millions?"

"No, Mr. Chelm, I am not utterly irrational yet. That is one of the

points I mean to leave to your discretion. I merely insist that he shall

not be scrimped. I do not think, however, that I care to advance over

two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? And still you talk of

discretion!"

"Is not that enough?"

"Enough! Why, certainly not. If you are bent upon the plan, at least put

it through handsomely, Miss Harlan. Let him have a cool million at once,

and be done with it."

"I know, of course, that this must seem very quixotic to you as a

business man, Mr. Chelm," I continued after a moment's reflection. "Very

likely you think I am merely jesting. But I am not. I am perfectly

serious. I want to help Mr. Prime. I was very much interested by what

he said, and I believe he is in earnest. The plan that I have just

suggested seems to me entirely feasible. Even supposing that I lose a

couple of hundred thousand dollars, what then? It is a year's income at

the worst; whereas, on the other hand, if the scheme prospers, and he

turns out to be"--

"A merchant prince," interrupted Mr. Chelm. "Yes, a merchant prince, as

I believe he will,"--

"You will be married, and be happy ever after, as in other fairy

stories."

"Nothing of the sort, Mr. Chelm. My conclusion of the affair is much

less sentimental. In case events result as I hope and predict, I shall

be thankful that I have given him a chance to put his theories into

practice. You may remember that he said he had theories regarding the

use a rich man should make of his money."

"It strikes me you are willing to pay pretty dear for the probable value

of the information, even if matters turn out as you expect. But the

money is yours, Miss Harlan, not mine; and if you are resolved upon

being generous in this wholesale way, it is not for me to complain. We

lawyers get conservative as we grow older, and any romance that may have

been in us dries up, like the sap in trees that have begun to outlast

their usefulness. We know how hard it is to earn an honest living; and

when we see any one in whom we have an interest developing a taste for

imprudent speculations, we instinctively utter a protest. Still, as you

say, it is but a year's income; and maybe the cheapest way in the end to

teach you reason is to humor this expensive fancy. If the money is lost,

you will never miss it; while, assuming that this young man is all your

imagination paints him, I know of nothing that would give me greater

pleasure than to see you happily married. That is a romance to which I

would say 'Amen' with all my heart."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Chelm. But I will not obtain your connivance

on any such terms. If you regard this as other than a purely business

enterprise, I warn you that you will be wofully disappointed."

"I shall have to take my chance of being right, just as you are going to

take yours. But come now, since you insist upon my treating this matter

seriously, what is it that you wish me to do?"

"Everything, Mr. Chelm."

"Even to giving away the bride? You must promise me that, eh! Miss

Harlan?"

"With pleasure."

"It is a bargain then. Command my services as you will,--I wish I could

say my capital also. But unfortunately I cannot afford to toss away my

hundreds of thousands like some people. But that is an aside. Tell me

what you wish me to do. I am all ears."

"To begin with, when Mr. Prime returns on Saturday, I should like you to

inform him that you happened by chance to mention his predicament to a

friend of yours."

"Of which sex?"

"That is entirely immaterial. But if he should happen to inquire, I

shall depend on you to preserve my incognito. You must even fib a

little, if it is necessary."

"Mercy on us! This romantic young philanthropist talks of fibbing, as if

it were the most simple thing in life. No, Mademoiselle, we lawyers

never fib. If we are ever obliged to forsake the narrow pathway of

truth, we tell a square, honest lie. But this is positively my last

interruption."

"You are to tell him that this friend of yours was very much interested

in his endeavors to find something to do, and sympathized with his

determination to wear a smile on his face and avoid baggy trousers to

the last. That I--I mean of course the friend--am willing to give him

the chance for which he asks to prove himself a man, by placing in your

hands a sufficient sum to found a banking-house of undoubted solvency.

He is to have complete control of this money, on which he may pay

interest if he chooses, in order to satisfy your business scruples, Mr.

Chelm; but he need never pay it back unless he wishes to do so,--the

particulars of all which you will understand how to arrange better than

I can tell you. Some day in the dim future, when he has realized his

ambition,--for don't imagine for an instant, Mr. Chelm, that I expect

him to make a fortune all at once,--he may return the original loan if

he sees fit. I shall be an old woman then, and should, it may be, have

less objection to being known as his benefactress than at present. Let

me see: is there anything else to say? As to the name of the firm, it

ought to be Francis Prime and Company, I presume; but the 'company' must

be a man of straw. He is to receive no outside help, not even from you.

There, I think I have made my wishes sufficiently plain."

"You do not desire him to give security for whatever you may advance?

Not a very business-like arrangement. But as for that, the whole scheme

is the most Utopian I ever heard of. These women, these women! It makes

a prudent man tremble to think what would become of the universe if they

had full sway! But I must submit, I suppose. I have given my word."

"I fear he has no security to offer unless it be Ike, the beautifully

ugly Ike; Ike the imperious! Do you suppose he would part with the

animal? I took rather a fancy to him, didn't you Mr. Chelm?"

"Nay, there I shall put down my foot. I will have no dogs in this

office. 'Love me, love my dog' is a maxim to which I could not subscribe

even in your case. No, unbusiness-like as it is, I prefer to make the

loan without security."

* * * * *

It may be easily imagined that during the next few days I was on tiptoe

with expectation. Let it be said at once, that I was quite aware that I

was about to commit what might fairly be considered a folly by

prudent-minded people. The chances of my goose proving a swan were

altogether too slight to justify the extravagance I proposed. But

despite this I never once wavered in my resolution, nor suffered doubt

to mar the mirror of fancy in which I chose to behold my protege

fulfilling the ample measure of his ambition in the years to come. What

an absorbing interest it would be to me to watch from behind my mask the

progress he made! If he proved successful, I could feel that part of the

creating power was mine; for had I not trusted him? Let a man realize

that there is some one who has faith in him, and the battle is half won.

Even suppose he were to prove the recreant and the impostor predicted,

the world would not be able to jeer at me; I could hug my wretched

secret, and none would be the wiser. Decidedly, I was to be envied in

the acquisition of this new interest. It would be almost like having a

double self, for was not my hero pondering over the same questions that

were constantly in my thoughts,--how a rich man was to spend his money?

With this difference, however: his ideas were already settled, whereas

mine were in process of formation. I was to share with him my fortune,

and he would enlighten me in turn. Perhaps also there was a shade of

irony in my reflections, and I was eager to see if he would find the

role of a merchant-prince so easy to play as he seemed to fancy. Then,

too, there was a delightful element of uncertainty and mystery about it

all. I was original; I was not copying every one else. Although of Mr.

Prime in a personal sense I scarcely thought at all, there was a

romantic flavor to the episode that stirred my imagination.

So gay and light-hearted did I feel that Aunt Helen noted it, and

alluded to the fact with pleasure as we sat together on the Friday

evening previous to Mr. Prime's return.

"I have good reason to be. I feel very happy to-night. I could dance

until morning, or do anything equally frivolous and erratic," I answered

mysteriously. She looked up with an anxious expression. "No, Aunt Helen

dear, I am not engaged. It is nothing so dreadful as that. It is merely

that I think I may have found my mission at last."

"Mission! What does the child mean? Don't tell me," she cried with a

sudden access of horror, "that you are going out to convert the Indians,

or to do any peculiar thing like that. That would be the last straw!"

"Try again," I said laughing.

"You gave me a scare, Virginia! You are such a strange girl, that,

though you are more like other people than you used to be, I can never

feel quite sure of you. If it isn't that you are engaged, or going to do

something odd, what is it, dear?"

"Nothing, Aunt Helen. I was merely romancing a little, that's all. As

you say, I am a strange girl, and very likely what I am thinking about

is all a delusion, and may never come to anything. I may wake up any

morning and find it is a dream. But let your mind rest easy; I am not

contemplating anything that will isolate me from society."

"I should hope not, I am sure, after your last experience;" and I heard

her mutter to herself as I went out of the room,--"Mission? Why does she

want to bother her head about a mission? I shall never feel perfectly

safe until I see her well married."

III.

I had decided to be present at the second interview between Mr. Chelm

and Mr. Prime, for several reasons. I was curious to have another look

at my beneficiary, and I had an impression that Mr. Chelm might feel his

legal conscience prick him, and so spoil the plot, if I were not within

earshot. When the interview took place, however, the lawyer took a mild

revenge by toying with his visitor a little at first, as though about to

give an unfavorable answer; and I shall never forget Mr. Prime's

expression when the true state of the case was made known to him. After

sitting in silence for a moment as though endeavoring to grasp the

facts, he gave a short incredulous laugh, and stooping down to pat Ike,

said nervously,--

"Is this a joke? A ghastly practical joke?"

"It sounds like one, doesn't it?" said Mr. Chelm; and he grinned from

ear to ear. "I fancy, though, that you are not in a mood to be trifled

with. No, you have fallen on your feet this time, young man. What I have

told you is all true."

"Do you mean to say that your friend wishes to advance me two hundred

and fifty thousand dollars to found a banking-house?"

"Precisely."

"But I have no security to offer."

"I have already told you that no security will be required."

"Excuse me--eh--but is your friend of sound mind?"

"I don't wonder you ask, ha! ha! But I am compelled to answer yes. My

friend is a philanthropist. That may make matters clearer."

"It is like a fairy story, isn't it Ike? Let me rehearse the conditions

again, so as to be sure I am not dreaming. With this loan, which I shall

never be called on to pay back unless I choose, I am to establish in New

York the house of Francis Prime and Company. I am to devote my energies,

first, to becoming abnormally rich; and after that simple result is

accomplished, to carry out the theories I have as to how one in that

position should live. Meanwhile, I am to pledge my word never to divulge

the circumstances of this interview, and on no pretence whatever to seek

to discover the name of the person to whom I owe my good fortune. Have I

omitted anything?"

"You have stated the case exactly."

"Humph! I should like to ask a single question. Is my benefactor a man

or a woman?"

"Another question like that would justify me in withdrawing the offer,"

answered Mr. Chelm with gravity. "My client wishes to have no identity

whatever. Come, sir, my time is precious. I await your decision."

"The proposal is so sudden and unexpected. To ascend in a twinkling from

the depths of despair to the summit of hope, leaves one a trifle

bewildered. But you are right. I have no claim on your time. You want an

answer."

He laughed again in a nervous manner, and stroked Ike.

"I do not wish to hurry you unduly. I have a letter to write, which will

take me a few minutes. Think the matter over until I have finished."

"Thank you. I will. But since I have imposed upon your good nature so

far, do me one more kindness, Mr. Chelm. What is your own opinion in

this matter? Do you advise me to accept?"

I listened eagerly for his reply. It was in his power to spoil all.

"Really, I feel embarrassed how to answer. As I have already implied to

you, the proposition strikes me, as a lawyer, as being the most

preposterous piece of extravagance I ever heard suggested. I will tell

you frankly that I tried my utmost to dissuade my client from making it.

It is thoroughly unbusiness-like and absurd. That is my view of the

matter from a professional standpoint."

"I see," said Mr. Prime.

"But," continued Mr. Chelm,--and here he stopped and gave an amused

chuckle,--"it is a rare chance for a young man, a rare chance. My client

will never mind the loss of the money, and would feel genuine

disappointment, I know, if you were to decline. This being the case, and

feeling as I do that you are in earnest in your desire to succeed

despite your aristocratic tendencies, I am tempted on the whole to urge

you to accept the good fortune which is thrust upon you. It is for my

client's sake as much as for your own that I advise this, for I can see

that she has set her heart--"

He stopped short. There was a dead pause, and I felt the blood rush to

my cheeks.

"Well!" he exclaimed, "I have let the cat out of the bag with a

vengeance this time. A lawyer, too. Pshaw! It is too bad!"

"That settles it," said Mr. Prime, quietly; "I cannot accept now at any

rate. It would not be fair to your client."

"Not accept? Of course you will accept. Nonsense, nonsense! It is all my

fault, and you shall have the money now if I have to pay it out of my

own pocket. Besides," said Mr. Chelm with voluble eagerness, "there is

very little harm done after all; and to prevent misunderstanding, I may

as well make a clean breast of it. My client is an eccentric maiden-lady

of sixty-five, with a lot of distant relatives who bother her life out

while waiting for her to die. I am her only intimate friend, but even I

cannot prevent her from doing all sorts of queer things in her taste for

sentimentality. You see, poor woman, when she was very young she had a

lover of just about your age (she wears his portrait perpetually in a

locket about her neck), who died. He was in business, and doing very

well. Several times already, on this account, she has helped young men

who were in straits; and when I told her your story, and what you were

ambitious to do, she clapped her withered old hands together and said,

'I will give him a chance, Mr. Chelm, I will give him a chance! He

reminds me of my Tom.' And that is how it came to pass. There is the

long-and-short of the matter. Accept? To be sure you will accept. It is

all my fault. I will make it right with her. It would break her heart if

you did not. So, no more words about it. I have all the necessary papers

ready."

Mr. Prime was patting Ike more abstractedly than ever. As for me, I sat

aghast and overwhelmed. The next few seconds seemed an eternity.

"Well, young man?"

"Please to write your letter, Mr. Chelm, and give me time to think."

"Not a bit of it! The letter can wait. Say you accept, and be done with

it!"

"Very well then, I accept. We are gentlemen of fortune, Ike, and you

shall have a new silver collar to-morrow."

It is not necessary to describe the details of the interview further. An

hour elapsed before the final arrangements were made and Mr. Prime left

the office. He was to start in business as soon as possible, and make

frequent reports of his progress to Mr. Chelm. Meanwhile I sat within

hearing distance, and occasionally took a peep at them from my coign of

vantage. I could perceive from Mr. Chelm's manner that he was pleased

with the tone and alertness of the other in putting matters into shape.

He had shown me beforehand certain letters which he had received in

answer to inquiries made regarding Mr. Prime. In these he was spoken of

as a young man of irreproachable character but strong social tastes,

which, while consistent with his own statement of what the world thought

of him, did not serve to re-assure Mr. Chelm as to the success of my

experiment. So it was consoling to me to see his expression continue

benignant as he listened to the young banker's notions.

When at last Mr. Prime was gone, I indulged my hilarity freely at my

friend's expense. "A lawyer, too!" I cried, when I could speak. "Your

reputation in my eyes is ruined forever."

"I have no excuse to offer. It was a dreadful slip, Miss Harlan."

"The slip was unpardonable of course; but it was an accident. No, what I

refer to, Mr. Chelm, is the marvellous invention by which you sought to

conceal it. I fully expected to see the floor open, and some demon carry

you off amid smoke and sulphur."

"I never stick at a trifle like that," laughed he. "But didn't I do the

thing well? He believed every word of it. And what is more, Miss

Harlan," he added seriously, "it would have been a great pity to have

let him decline. He is a likely young fellow. I smell wedding-cake in

the air already."

"You forget, Mr. Chelm," I answered, "that I am an eccentric maiden-lady

of sixty-five. You have ruined any material there may have been out of

which to manufacture a romance."

* * * * *

This turn of affairs took place a few days before the unpleasant scene

with Aunt Agnes occurred, to which I have alluded, and I found that it

absorbed my thoughts and tended to counteract the despondency produced

by her displeasure and the injustice of her friends. All through the

remainder of the season I awaited with eagerness the monthly reports

sent by Mr. Prime. He was established, and cautiously feeling his way.

But necessarily there was little to tell; a fortune cannot be made in a

minute. However, I cherished every word of encouragement as so much

vindication of my faith; and I came by degrees to feel as though Mr.

Prime's new enterprise were my own business, and that my reputation for

sagacity were dependent upon his success.

And yet, as I have already implied, Mr. Prime was nothing to me except

so far as he represented an instrument of my will. It was not in him

that I was interested half so much as in myself. In order to satisfy my

curiosity, I even planned in the spring a trip to New York with Aunt

Helen, and delighted my eyes with a glimpse of the sign-board over the

spacious offices of Francis Prime and Company. But on that day it was

veritably a glimpse that I got, for I was too timid to take a deliberate

scrutiny of what I had come to see, owing to the fact that every one I

met stared at me; and then too I was momentarily upset by perceiving

over the way just opposite, in great gilt letters, the rival sign, as it

seemed to me, of "Roger Dale, Banker and Broker." Mr. Dale I had not

seen for several years, but I knew that he was living in New York, where

he had not long before married an heiress of obscure antecedents,

according to rumor. That it was he I had little doubt; and though the

fact of his having an office in the same street could not of course

affect, either for evil or otherwise, the interests of my protege, I had

an indefinable feeling of dread at perceiving they were so near to one

another. It was therefore doubly necessary for me to be careful in my

subsequent expeditions down-town, not only to dress in such a quiet

unfashionable manner as not to attract the attention of passers, but so

as to escape recognition from my former admirer.

After the first impression of unpleasantness I felt a little added zest

on account of this element of risk, especially when on inquiry I learned

that Roger Dale was rated as one of the most successful and enterprising

of the younger banking firms in the city. I saw his advertisements in

the newspapers, and gathered from current talk that he was doing a large

and lucrative business. I was glad to know that he was happy and

prosperous at last, for he had failed once before leaving home, though I

never heard of it until a long while after; and under the influence of

this mood any vestige of ill-will that may have been lurking in my mind

died away, and I came to regard the rival sign with perfect equanimity

from behind the thick veil by which I concealed my features. Instigated

by a spirit of caution to make my disguise as complete as possible, I

purchased at a cheap clothing-store some garments that did much towards

rendering my personal appearance the very opposite of stylish. I even

tried to give them a soiled and worn aspect, by means of experiments at

home, so that I might pass for a female clerk or needy bushel-woman,

and be free to pursue my investigations unobserved. In this guise I

spent a number of days in wandering about the business streets of the

city, attentive not only to what went on in the offices of Francis Prime

and Company and Roger Dale, but to the countless sights and sounds of

bustling trade, which I experienced now for the first time. At first I

did not dare to appear too frequently in the street which was the centre

of my interest, but a dangerous fascination led me to become bolder and

more adventurous as I became familiar with the surroundings. From under

the obscurity of arches and from behind pillars I noted daily who

entered the doors of the new firm, and endeavored to get an idea of the

amount of business that it transacted. In this respect I was somewhat

disappointed, for although customers were by no means lacking, there was

a dearth of patronage as compared with that enjoyed by the banking-house

across the street. During the morning hours there was an incessant

stream of people coming and going up and down the marble steps of the

great building on the first floor of which were the offices of Roger

Dale; and by far the larger proportion of this number went no farther,

for I could see them through the broad plate-glass windows, chatting

and grouped about a coil of tape that ran out with a snake-like movement

into a basket on the floor. There were ladies too who drove up to the

door in their carriages and were shown into the back office, and who

when they came out again were attended by Mr. Dale himself, bowing

obsequiously. He was stouter than when I saw him last, and quite bald;

and he had a different suit of a prominent check-pattern for every day

in the week. He seemed immensely popular with his customers, and was

slapped by them on the back incessantly, and most of them he slapped

back in return. But toward certain individuals he adopted a quite

different style of behavior; for he listened to what they said with

deference, gave them the most comfortable seat in the office, and opened

the door for them when they went away. These I judged to be capitalists

and men of influence, whose business he wished to secure. Some of them

never came again, but others would return in the afternoon and be

closeted with him for hours.

To all this I could not help giving attention, for it was forced on me,

as I have indicated, by way of contrast to the style of business that

was done by the firm to which my faith was pinned. Indeed I felt badly

sometimes, and wondered if it could be that my hero were lacking in

enterprise and what the world calls "push." But as I observed more

closely, I dismissed this suspicion as unjust; for I began to note that

one or two of the grave, important-looking men whom Roger Dale treated

with so much suavity, were much more frequent visitors over the way.

Besides, the plate-glass windows were very small, and it was next to

impossible to see what went on inside. Mr. Prime always stayed at his

office until nearly six o'clock, and once or twice he was still at work

at his desk when the darkness drove me home. In these afternoon hours

the street was nearly deserted, and sometimes I ventured close up to the

window and peered through. I could see him in a little inner office,

writing and poring over papers and accounts. Once while I was thus

occupied, a policeman greatly alarmed me by tapping me on the shoulder

and observing roughly, "Now then, young woman, move on."

After this I felt the necessity of using more discretion; and lest this

narration may prejudice the judicious too strongly against me, let it be

said that I passed in all only some eight or ten days in this manner

during the six weeks Aunt Helen and I were in New York together.

Perhaps, however, this was due somewhat to the difficulty I found in

evading her eagle eye, for owing to the necessary changes in my dress I

had to invent some excuse commensurate with such a dilapidated

appearance. As excursions among the poor twice a week could not

seem improbable, I let them account for the plain stuff-gown and

unfashionable hat that I wore on the occasion of my down-town visits,

and limited myself accordingly. Aunt Helen really shed tears at first

because I looked so like a guy; but when I represented to her that it

would be cruel to flaunt silks and satins in the faces of those to whom

such luxuries were forbidden, to say nothing of the risk one ran of

being insulted if gaudily attired, she withdrew her objections. "But

only think," said she, "if any of your acquaintances should see you

rigged out like that! It could not fail to strike the Honorable Ernest

Ferroll as exceedingly peculiar at the best."

IV.

Although I had striven to keep our visit to New York a secret, it

was hardly to be expected, in view of my quasi celebrity at home as

a society character, coupled with my Aunt's eagerness for amusement,

that our presence would long escape detection. As a fact, before the

end of the first week we were inundated with invitations, many of

which it was impossible to decline; and I finally gave up the struggle,

and suffered myself to become a facile tool in the hands of my friends

after night-fall, reserving merely the day-time for my financial

investigations. I was the more willing to submit to this social demand,

because I had a hope that I might meet with Mr. Prime at some of the

houses to which we were asked. But though I constantly recognized, with

a sense of danger that was yet delicious, faces that I had become

familiar with down-town, his was never among them. I made no inquiries,

but the mystery of his absence was finally explained.

"Miss Harlan," said my hostess to me at a brilliant dinner-party, "I had

hoped to be able to present to you this evening my friend Mr. Francis

Prime, who is altogether charming; but he writes me that he is not going

anywhere this winter: he has in fact given himself up for the time being

to business, and cannot break his rule even for me. Everybody is

laughing over the idea of his doing anything except make himself

agreeable. As he isn't here, let me tell you he is the worst flirt in

town; and we all rather hope he won't succeed, for he fills his niche to

perfection,--which is paying him a high compliment, I think. But there

are other attractive men in the world besides Mr. Prime, and I am going

to ask you, by and by, to tell me your opinion of our new Englishman,

who is to take you in to dinner. He is only the Honorable Ernest Ferroll

at present, but when his uncle dies he will be Duke of Clyde, my dear,

and _on dit_ he is looking for a wife."

I found the Honorable Ernest decidedly agreeable. He had a fine figure,

was six feet high, with blue eyes and a luxuriant chestnut beard. In his

thirty years he had lived and travelled everywhere, reserving the

States, as he called them, for a final jaunt preparatory to settling

down. He was making merely a flying trip through the seaboard cities

after a preliminary canter at Newport, previous to doing California and

some big hunting in the "Rockies;" but later he intended to return and

spend a season in New York and Boston society. His name was, for the

moment, on every one's lips, and there was much quiet maternal inquiry

as to how long the old peer was likely to last; for the Honorable Ernest

was said to be rather short of money.

"He has a fine forehead, and if one likes beards, his is certainly a

handsome specimen," said Aunt Helen ruminantly, as we were driving home.

"I have no fancy for them myself, but it is always possible to shave

them off; that's one comfort."

I divined of whom she was speaking, but made no response.

"How did you like him, Virginia?"

"Mr. Ferroll? I found him very entertaining," I replied.

"I thought he seemed decidedly impressed by you. He scarcely kept his

eyes off you all through dinner. I don't blame him, for you were looking

your best. Duchess of Clyde! You might do worse, Virginia. They say he

is anxious to marry."

"So Mrs. Tremaine informed me."

"Did she really? That was very amiable of her, especially as you are a

stranger, and there must be plenty of girls in whom she is interested,

who are setting their caps for him. I could not help thinking at dinner

what a handsome pair you would make."

"One would suppose you were in earnest from your serious tone, Aunt

Helen."

"And so I am, so I am, quite in earnest. Of course I should wish to know

a little more definitely about him before anything final was arranged.

But from what I hear, there can be no question in regard to his title.

If there were the slightest suspicion of anything out of the way

concerning it, he would never have been at Mrs. Tremaine's, who is a

very particular woman, and knows what she knows. He seems, so far as I

could judge, to be a manly, right-minded young man. He told me that he

shot three tigers in India, and I observed that he took scarcely any

wine at dinner. It won't do though, Virginia, to dilly-dally, for I am

given to understand that he leaves in a fortnight for California, to

explore the West. But he is coming back to spend several months next

winter, and if you do not throw cold water on him now, he may feel

disposed to run on to Boston, in spite of the efforts that will be made

to keep him here."

"I feel very certain," said I, "that he will come to Boston for a few

days, as he has letters to Aunt Agnes."

"To your Aunt Agnes? What do you mean, child?" In her astonishment I

thought she was going to bounce out of the carriage.

"I don't wonder you are surprised. Yes, the first question he asked was

if I were not the niece of Miss Agnes Harlan, of Boston. It seems that

she and his father made an ocean passage together a great many years

ago, when they were both young, and the acquaintance has been kept up by

correspondence ever since."

"Mercy on us! Your Aunt Agnes has never said a word to me about it."

"The Honorable Ernest's father is quite literary, and has written one or

two books on philosophy, his son says."

"That accounts for it, of course. Well, well! to think of your Aunt

Agnes being intimate with one of the nobility, and having never

mentioned the subject! I have always given her credit for being an

agreeable woman at bottom, if one could only forget her eccentricities.

But this is extremely fortunate for you, Virginia. To be sure, there is

no knowing how your Aunt will receive him, she is so hostile to every

one who is not as queer as herself. But she must see, if she is not a

fool, what a very advantageous match this would be for you. It could do

no harm just to drop Mr. Ferroll a hint to humor her a little, and seem

fond of serious subjects at the start, for if she should happen to take

it into her head to ask him to stay at her house it would be very

convenient."

These sentiments were frequently reiterated by Aunt Helen during the

remaining weeks of our visit, and it must be allowed that the attentions

of the Honorable Ernest soon justified her urgency, seeing that she

really believed it was a matter of vital importance for me to become the

future Duchess of Clyde. Nor was I at all sure myself, that if nothing

else turned up I might not be tempted by the brilliancy of such a

position. Not that I thought about it quite so definitely; but I was

conscious of the exceptional advantages incident to high rank in

England, to the extent that I did not treat his gallantries with marked

indifference. I let him reveal himself for what he was, which is not

possible without a certain degree of intimacy. Beneath his conventional

ways I discovered a great deal of energy and decision. He was well-read,

and had his own opinions. On many of the days when I did not go

down-town, I took strolls with him in the Park and elsewhere. We

discussed all sorts and kinds of subjects. We did not often agree, but

that rather added to the interest of our intercourse than otherwise. I

was a curiosity to him, he said. He complained that I was too radical

and visionary in my ideas, and that I was quite different from his

conception of American girls. To be sure, he said, I was ready to do

things,--that is, go to walk with him, and banish Aunt Helen when he

called; but he had been told that American girls knew nothing about

politics or any serious matters, and were principally interested in the

study of their inner consciousness as affected by man; whereas I was

perpetually taking issue with him on questions of government policy and

pauperism, driving him into holes in regard to the value of an

hereditary nobility and the dis-establishment of the English Church.

Women at home were not like that, he said. The men told them what to

believe, and they stuck to it through thick and thin; but voluntary

feminine ratiocination was the rarest thing in the world among his

countrywomen. As for himself, he was a conservative,--a conservative

without money. Money was all he needed to build up the splendid estates

of Clyde, which had been slowly decaying for this lack during two

generations. His chief ambition was to retouch and refurbish the broad

domain of his inheritance, so that its lordly manors, ivy-mantled

abbeys, and green meadows might know again the peace, poetry, and

prosperity of an ideal English home. There would then for the lord of

Clyde be happiness and romance equalled by none on earth. For, eager to

benefit his fellow-men, he would have within the radius of his own

estate a hundred cabins to call in play his invention or humanity; and

with one's conscience at rest, he said, could there be a purer joy than

to wander with her of one's choice under the ancestral elms of old

England, with the September moon o'erhead?

This was the Honorable Ernest's dream; but to realize it, he must make

money. He had come to the States, so he told me when we grew more

intimate, in order to seek it. There were great chances in the far West

for a shrewd man with a little capital, and to find some investment that

promised large returns was the real object of his journey thither.

Already, even since his arrival in New York, he had done extremely

well. There was a smart (so he had heard him called) young fellow who

had put him into several profitable speculations: very likely I might

know him,--Roger Dale was his name; every one said he had made a lot of

money, and was one of the coming men of Wall Street. I was kindly to

consider this as a confidence, for he did not care to have it noised

about that he was other than an idler here.

The Honorable Ernest Ferroll's attentions, as I have implied, grew apace

from the evening of our introduction, and soon attracted remark. There

was an instant recognition of the fitness of the match even from

the most envious, and Aunt Helen was the recipient of numerous

congratulatory innuendoes. The circumstance of his delaying the date of

his journey a week confirmed the general impression of his serious

views, and even I began to feel some pangs of conscience on the score of

allowing him to fancy that if he did come to the point I should accept

him eagerly. In contemplation of this emergency I felt that it was time

for me to go home. We both would then have six months in which to think

it over. When he should return from the West, it would be time enough

for me to come to a decision as to whether I desired to re-gild the

poetry of his English home. I was certain that if he insisted on an

immediate answer my reply would be unfavorable. But I much preferred to

defer any definite proposal; and accordingly, with all the tact at my

command, I tried to avoid giving him an opportunity of being left alone

with me for any length of time, without making it noticeable to him.

Finally, as he seemed likely to become unmanageable despite my

precautions, and as he put off again and again his day of departure, I

resolved to take refuge in flight.

When I communicated this to Aunt Helen she said I was crazy. The idea

of returning home just on the eve of realization seemed to her

preposterous; she would not hear of it. But I was equally firm, and

announced my intention of leaving on the morrow.

But before I went, I wished to have one more glimpse of the condition of

the banking-house of Francis Prime and Company; and in order to make my

scrutiny as thorough as possible I planned not to return until dark. I

was curious to get a close look at my hero, and this seemed most

feasible when he was leaving the office for the day. At that time there

would be little likelihood of any one noticing me, if I stood by the

door as he came out.

The afternoon passed without incident, save that I saw the Honorable

Ernest Ferroll go into Mr. Dale's office, where he remained some time.

He happened to meet me face to face on the street, but I justly had

acquired by this time complete faith in my disguise. He betrayed no sign

of recognition, and the flush that rose to my cheeks was a badge of

quite unnecessary alarm. The hours slipped by, and the street grew

still. The gas was lighted in the inner offices, and few but clerks,

figuring up the profits or losses of the day, were left down-town. It

was getting dark, and I was growing impatient. I sat down in the

door-way of the building next adjoining, to rest. I had purposely made

myself look as dilapidated as possible, and the natural presumption in

the mind of any one would have been that I was friendless and needy, for

I felt tired enough to make a weary air very natural at the moment.

As it chanced, my old enemy the policeman came sauntering by, and his

cold eye fell on me with a chilling scrutiny. He stopped and said:--

"Didn't I tell you to move on, young woman? We don't want the likes of

you loafing about here."

"I am tired and resting. I am waiting for some one," I answered, too

much alarmed to take much account of my words.

"Yes, I dare say. He's forgotten to keep his engagement, and has gone

home for the day. He asked me himself to tell you so. Come, move on, and

don't let me see you hanging around any more, or I'll find an engagement

for you that will last sixty days. Come, march!"

"Sir!" I exclaimed in a tone of indignation, having partially recovered

my presence of mind, "what right have you to insult a lady? I tell you I

have business here. If you don't instantly leave me, I will have you

discharged to-morrow!"

"Do, my beauty! and lest you should oversleep yourself in the morning,

and not be on hand to keep your word, come with me now."

He reached out his hand to seize me by the arm, and all my fears

returned. But at that instant I heard a voice, and to my mingled relief

and consternation the face of Francis Prime appeared over my tormentor's

shoulder.

"What is the matter, officer?"

"Nothing, your honor, except this here young woman. She's for reporting

me, she is, and losing me my situation. But as I happen to have seen

her congregating by herself mostly every day for the past fortnight

around these offices, I thought I'd run her in as a disreputable lot,

and we'd see who's who."

"Oh, sir!--Mr. Prime!" I cried, forgetting my discretion in the

excitement of the moment, "don't let him take me off! What he says isn't

true. I'm a lady--that is, a poor girl who's perfectly honest, and is

trying to earn her living."

"A nice lady you are, trying to lose hardworking folks their

situations!"

"You called me by name," said Mr. Prime. "Do you know me? Come here

Ike!" The dog was sniffing around my feet.

"Yes, sir--no--that is, I have seen you come out of your office."

He looked at me searchingly, and turned to the policeman. "What was she

doing when you arrested her?"

"Indeed, sir," I broke in, "I was merely sitting here resting myself,

when this--this man spoke to me. I was doing nothing wrong."

"You hear what she says, officer. What is your charge against her?"

"Promiscuous and unlawful congregating by herself, your Honor. When a

young woman as swears she's honest, goes peeking into other folks's

windows after dark, I always has my suspicions,--as you would too, if

you had been in the business as long as I have. It wa'n't more than a

week ago that I caught her with her nose against that plate-glass window

of yours, and I told her then to move on. But she didn't; and the next

thing we shall be hearing some fine morning, that there's been breaking

and entering done."

Frightened as I was, I could not help blushing.

"Why were you looking into my office?" said Mr. Prime. "It doesn't seem

a very serious offence," he added, turning to the officer.

"It ain't murder, and it ain't arson, that's flat," observed that

functionary; "but we don't draw no such fine distinctions in our

profession. If we did, the judges would have nothing to do."

The colloquy gave me time to think up an answer. I was in a tight place,

and it would not do to mince matters. Mr. Prime turned back to me with

an air of inquiry.

"I was wondering, sir, when I looked into your window, if there were any

use in my applying for work."

"Are you in want?" he asked.

"I am trying to find a place. I am without occupation at present. The

times are so hard it is almost impossible for an honest girl to find

anything to do. I only want a chance."

He looked at me with a closer interest. Of course my voice and my

features, after the first impression produced by my needy dress, must

have puzzled an observer so intelligent as Mr. Prime.

"I believe the girl's story," he said to the policeman. "I feel sure she

is honest."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "A moment ago it was she was a lady, and

waiting for somebody. But I ain't particular, if you are ready to go

bail for the young woman. Of course I'm only doing my duty; and if you

are satisfied, your Honor, don't blame me if you find your watch missing

before you get home. I always keep a pair of twisters alongside of mine;

and that's why I thought she might be safer with me than with you."

With this oracular utterance, the official turned on his heel and

departed, to my intense relief. I was fairly overcome with dread and

mortification, and my eyes fell under the interested look of my rescuer.

"You seem distressed and tired, poor girl. This street is no place for

you at such an hour. You say you are in search of work?"

"Yes, sir," I answered faintly.

"Humph! Can you write?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Come to my office then, to-morrow morning, and I may be able to find

something for you to do. And now go home as fast as you can. Stop, here

is a trifle for your fare. Good-night."

He raised his hat in recognition of the grateful glance from my eyes. My

cheeks had felt like live coals as I took the coin he held out to me.

But I chose to continue the deception. It was harmless; and to disclose

the fact that I was other than I seemed would only make matters worse.

There was too, even while he was still present, an element of amusement

to me in the whole affair, which when he was gone, and I knew that I was

out of danger, speedily became predominant in my mind. Here was an

opportunity sent by Providence to supervise my banking scheme without

risk of discovery, if only I had the courage to take advantage of it.

The idea pleased me the more I thought it over, for I had little doubt

that Mr. Prime intended to find employment for me in his own office. I

felt that it would amuse me immensely to become a female clerk for a few

weeks and see the practical working of a business house, and above all

others of this particular one. I felt sure that I could prove myself

tolerably useful as well, thanks to my experience under Mr. Chelm; and

there was no knowing what might come of it all if I should develop a

taste for banking. The world's opinion to the contrary notwithstanding,

I might take it into my head to reveal my identity, and become an active

partner in the concern.

Even to such extremes did my imagination carry me before I reached home.

But I was clear in my mind about one thing. I meant to present myself at

the office in the morning, and if the chance were given me, to

apprentice myself for a while. It was indeed a strange freak of destiny,

that he should have been confronted by me with the same appeal that I

had heard him make so short a time ago. Perhaps it were better called a

strange freak of my caprice, for though of course my position was not

premeditated, the words that I said to him were necessarily suggested by

the analogy of the situation. I felt therefore an obligation to let his

humanity work itself out,--which gave comfort and encouragement to my

quixotism.

The only obstacles of serious importance to this step would be the

difficulty of disposing of Aunt Helen, and as a corollary thereto the

necessity of some slight deceit on my part to account for my continuance

in New York. But having gone so far in the matter, I did not suffer

myself to be deterred by trifles. I had, in speaking of our return to

Aunt Helen this morning, dwelt on the importance of not leaving certain

domestic affairs longer unattended to; and it now occurred to me to

compromise with her by suggesting that she should go home, and leave me

with my maid in our lodgings, which were well known to her as thoroughly

quiet and respectable. As was perhaps to be expected, she resisted this

proposal energetically; but as I was resolved to get rid of her at any

cost, I took an obstinate stand, against which tears and flattery were

equally unavailing. I made her return a condition of my remaining;

otherwise I should leave the Honorable Ernest to the mercy of the

maidens of New York. She must take her choice. If she decided to stay I

should go home; and the only possible chance of my becoming Duchess of

Clyde rested on her going home without me. The alternative was too

dreadful for her to withstand my pertinacity. She wished me to remain,

and rather than have her matrimonial project blocked she preferred to

yield, though it was not until she had made a last appeal on the score

of the extreme impropriety of my continuing to stay in New York alone.

When she had finally consented to take her departure, I wrote a note to

the Honorable Ernest and to one or two other friends, announcing that we

had suddenly been called home, and then I sat up far into the night

putting my new-fangled wardrobe into a plausible condition. To be

patched but neat seemed to me the most endurable and ingratiating, and

at the same time an equally secure guise in which to figure, and I

devoted my energies to accomplishing that result before morning. On that

same day also, to my great relief, I succeeded in bundling off Aunt

Helen without further ado, and the field was cleared for operations. I

should have to trust my maid to some extent, and possibly to change my

lodgings; but otherwise I had swept away all obstacles to the indulgence

of this new piece of eccentricity.

It occurred to me, on the way down-town, that Mr. Prime would doubtless

make some inquiries as to my previous history and present circumstances,

and that I must go a step further and concoct some rational story in

order to carry out my deception successfully. I was correct in my

surmise. He received me with kindness, and showing me into his

private office asked a few direct questions, which I answered to his

satisfaction seemingly. I represented myself as one of that much-to-be

pitied class, referred to by Mr. Chelm, of well-educated but impecunious

young people, who only needed employment to be comfortable and happy. I

had no parents, nor brothers and sisters, and up to this time had

supported myself by teaching and by copying; but the stress of the times

had little by little cut off the sources of my income, and when he met

me yesterday I had sunk down exhausted and in despair over the prospect

of finding anything to do. Such was my pitiful tale.

Fortunately my handwriting did not require to be explained away or

disguised like the rest of me. It spoke for itself, being legible and

bold, somewhat resembling a man's in the latter particular. Mr. Prime

looked pleased as he glanced at the specimen I prepared for his

inspection, and I felt that the battle was won. A few minutes later I

was engaged as a confidential clerk at a modest salary. My duties for

the time were to answer letters, and to copy out and arrange sets of

figures at his direction; and he suggested that I should as soon as

possible learn short-hand.

I could scarcely help laughing aloud as I sat and tried to realize my

new position. Mr. Prime's business was as yet, I soon perceived,

lamentably small. The office was commodious, but my employer had besides

me only a book-keeper to help him,--a gaunt, withered-looking man of

sixty. This personage glanced at me now and again over his spectacles

suspiciously, and would, I dare say, have joined hands with my enemy the

police officer, as to the probabilities affecting my moral character.

Everything else was done by Mr. Prime, who I was pleased to notice was

as spruce as ever in his personal appearance. His gloves, his boots, his

cravats, and Ike, the beautifully ugly Ike, were as irreproachable as

ever.