IN WHICH THE READER LISTENS TO A TETE-A-TETE
BETWEEN MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.
A mother and daughter were conversing on what would appear, from
their earnestness, to be a very important subject, in a cosy
drawing-room of a beautiful brick villa, situated in the suburbs
of Bayton. Their surroundings would lead the careful observer to
the conclusion that they were in easy if not affluent circumstances.
Though the effect of the room's furnishing would cause one to be
possessed with the idea that there was more wealth than
refinement;--there was too much coloring, too much gauze and glitter,
to be reconciled with any considerable degree of aesthetic taste or
true culture.
The elder of the two was dressed in a manner that would better
become a miss of twenty than a matron who was on the shady side of
fifty; and the young lady, though not displaying the ingrained
vulgarity of the mother, was not costumed with that simple
elegance that would indicate a refined taste.
They were the wife and daughter of John Sealy, Esq., whom we have
already introduced to our fit readers.
"I don't think, Luella," said the mother, "you should hesitate for
a moment in deciding between Bill Barton and Mr. Ginsling."
"Neither do I, mother; but while I would prefer the former, I
should judge, from your accent on the 'Bill,' your preference
would be given to the latter."
"It certainly would, Luella; for what has Barton to offer a young
lady of your wealth? He has neither looks, nor money, nor
position. I think he had a great deal of assurance to come to see
you, in the first place. He knows my opinion in regard to the
matter; and, if I am not mistaken, thinks about as much of me as I
do of him, and that is not saying a great deal."
"What has Ginsling to offer, mother, besides his bloated face and
aristocratic airs? And then he looks nearly as old as pa."
"He is a gentleman, Luella, and is from one of the most
aristocratic houses in England." Mrs. Sealy particularly
emphasized the fact of his being of an old family; for, like all
artificial and vulgar natures, she would have made any sacrifices
to be related in any way to those whom she endeavored, though
ineffectually, to copy. "As to age, Luella," she continued,
"though he may be a few years older, that does not signify. I
prefer to see a husband a few years older than his wife. Your
father is ten years older than I am, and yet, I am sure, the
difference is not particularly noticeable, though I do not think
time has been particularly severe upon me." And the lady viewed
her rather good-looking face in the glass, and, from the
complacent look that swept over it, one would be led to believe
the answer to her interrogation was to her eminently satisfactory.
"Mother, all I have to say is, I love William Barton, while I
cannot help loathing Ginsling. You say the former has neither
money, nor position, nor beauty; though in regard to the latter
assertion, it will be sufficient for me to say we differ. But if
he has neither of these he has brains, and manhood, and purity."
"I don't see anything particularly smart about him, Luella; and in
regard to purity he is, I suppose, on a level with, the average
young man about town."
"Now, ma, it is not fair to speak of him in that manner; for I am
sure you know of nothing but what's to his credit, and if Ginsling
is what you term a gentleman by birth, he certainly is not one by
instinct; though no one can truthfully make such an assertion in
regard to William Barton."
"As you just remarked, Luella, there may be difference of opinion
as to which is by nature the greater gentleman, but, as I said
before, I can't conceive how he had the audacity to come to see
you, in the first place."
"I guess he wouldn't have come if he had not received some
encouragement; and I am sure, ma, he is not only my equal but my
superior in every respect."
"You don't mean to say, Luella Sealy," said the mother, with what
seemed at least indignation, "that you were so unmaidenly as to
make the first advances to this young man. If I thought you were
capable of doing such a thing I should be ashamed of you. It would
be bad enough if he were your equal, and a gentleman, but when he
is a mere bank clerk and a person of no position, how you could
descend to do so is beyond my comprehension."
"Mother," said the daughter, while a quizzical smile lit up her
face, "when pa came to see you did you not encourage him, or in
some manner give him to understand that his visits were not
altogether distasteful to you? From what I have heard pa say, I
should rather think you did. Now, ma, I rather liked William
Barton; and while I did not tell him so, he seemed in some manner
or other to find out my secret, and I have not tried to deceive
him."
"But, Luella," said her mother,--not replying to her daughter's
mischievous reference to her days of romance and love, for, like
many other ambitious, scheming mothers, if she ever had such a
foolish emotion as love, she had forgotten it, or else she had
been led to believe it was all Moonshine; and if a girl only
married wealth and position, she thought love would come,--"what
is the use of acting so foolishly? If you marry William Barton you
will have to leave the set with which you are now associating, and
if you degrade yourself by a _mesalliance_ you will drag us
down with you."
"You had better wait, mother, until he asks me to marry him."
"No! I want to talk it over now, and then you will be prepared to
act like a sensible girl. If Barton wishes to marry you it is
because you have money, and he will bring you nothing in exchange
but degradation. How the McWrigglers will sneer if such a thing
happens! They schemed and plotted until they got Captain Merton to
marry that baby-faced Elaine; and because he is an officer in the
English army and the youngest son of a gentleman, they have been
putting on airs ever since; and they are now so stuck-up there is
scarcely any living for them."
"I am sure, ma, they are welcome to him, for I hear he does not
use her very kindly when he is in liquor, which is most of the
time."
"Oh! I guess that is like a great deal of what people
say--scandal. I am certain since that alliance they have moved in
society into which they could not gain entrance before. Now, if
you marry Stanley Ginsling, as he is first cousin to Lord
Fitzjinkins, we will have the _entree_ to society to which
they dare not aspire; and then the airs of superiority can be on
our side, not theirs."
"So, ma, you would have me marry a sot, who is twice my age, and
whom I detest, in order that you may have a paltry advantage over
one who, when she calls, you kiss and use the most endearing
epithets in your vocabulary, in order to express your friendship
for her. To tell you the truth, I don't see much in what you call
'our set,' to encourage me to sacrifice myself in order to remain
in it. When you meet you are all honey, smiles, and kisses, and
you profess to be the dearest of friends; and yet you are
constantly endeavoring to gain some petty triumph at each other's
expense, and then to relate it in such a manner as to cut and
cause envy and jealousy. 'Our set,' ma, is too superficial and
spiteful for me to wish to remain in it."
"Your remarks, Luella, are the reverse of complimentary; but I am
not going to be angry. If you don't like the set you are in get
above it. If you only become the wife of one who, some day, will
become the Hon. Stanley Ginsling, you will be lifted out of
anything of that kind."
"You mean dragged beneath it, ma. It would be a nice thing to be a
drunkard's wife."
"O there is no fear of that. The majority of men drink before they
are married. All they want is a good wife, and then they settle
down; and as to that, I have been told that Barton drinks. So
there is as, much danger with one as the other. You had better be
sensible, dear, for your father will feel like disowning you if
you marry Barton, and he has set his heart upon a match between
you and Mr. Ginsling."
"Mother, I don't believe William Barton drinks; and it is wrong to
repeat as fact what is nothing but malicious scandal. I also think
it is very unkind of you to threaten me, and thus try and force me
to marry one I despise. Surely, since I will have to live with the
man I marry, I should have some choice in the matter."
After she thus spoke she abruptly left the room in a passion of
tears.
The mother did not introduce the subject again, but it was
constantly in her mind, and she knew Luella would not forget it.
She understood her daughter's weak points, and had no doubt if she
persevered she would gain her end. In fact, though Luella Sealy
was in every respect, except in narrow strength, her mother's
superior, yet her intellectual and moral nature was not all
golden--there were some parts of baser metal, and even of clay, in
her composition. As the reader will conclude from her conversation
with her mother, she possessed more than ordinary intelligence,
which was subdued and chastened by the emotions of a warm, loving
heart; and if uninfluenced she would have proved true to a friend,
even though it caused her self-sacrifice and suffering. But yet
she was not of the stuff of which martyrs are made, for she was
weak, being easily persuaded, and withal a little selfish; and
though she would endure a great deal for friendship's sake, yet
when the opposing forces came on thick and fast, and persevered in
their effort--when that opposition came which would have caused a
stronger nature to be all the more real--she would yield to the
opposing forces and desert the one who trusted her, leaving him to
endure scorn and contumely alone.
She had met William Barton at a party, and, being introduced by a
mutual friend, was fascinated by his manly bearing and intelligent,
racy conversation. And he, as his blood tingled at coy cupid's
whisperings, soliloquized: "She is the most intelligent and charming
girl I ever saw." They met several times at parties during the
winter, and he became marked in his attentions, which she did not
discourage. And soon--at least on his part--the friendship ripened
into genuine love; and she, as the sequel will show, though for a
time carried down by the force of an opposing current, really
entertained for him an undying affection.
William Barton was the son of respectable parents who resided in
Bayton. They were comparatively poor, but managed to give their
son a good business education. He had entered as a junior clerk in
one of the banks of the town, and, by strict attention to business
and a natural adaptation to the profession chosen, had risen to a
position of considerable responsibility.
He was a young man of more than average ability, not strictly
handsome, but possessed a good figure and pleasant, intelligent
countenance, though the lower portion of the face was disappointing,
for it did not denote decision of character or massive strength.
And the face was an index of the man, for he was so intelligent,
kindly and gentle in his manner, that he was a favorite in society;
but he was volatile, and easily influenced for good or evil.
As he was moving in the best society of the town when he met Miss
Sealy, her father and mother did not, at first, object to his keeping
company with their daughter, though his attentions were very marked
indeed. But when Stanley Ginsling appeared upon the scene, and they
learned he was the scion of an old and aristocratic family--a near
kin to a live lord--their vain, selfish, and artificial minds became
excited, and they determined, if possible, to have the latter allied
with the house of Sealy, then they turned against Barton.
From this time Mrs. Sealy especially gave the latter to understand
his visits were simply tolerated, and Mr. Sealy took no pains to
conceal the fact that something had transpired to change his views
in regard to him.
Barton went one evening determined, if possible, to discover the
cause of their coldness. He was received by Luella with her usual
cordiality, but by her mother with marked discourtesy bordering on
rudeness. He was scarcely seated when Mr. Sealy came in,
accompanied by Stanley Ginsling; and as Mrs. Sealy received the
latter with special attention, which, was all the more noticeable
because of her icy reserve in Barton's case, the latter thought he
understood the situation.
"Can it be possible," he soliloquized, "they are anxious to get
rid of me that the coast may be clear for that drunken loafer?"
The thought at first could be scarcely entertained, it seemed so
monstrous; but before he left he had substantial reasons for
believing that Mr. and Mrs. Sealy were actually scheming to make a
match between Ginsling and Luella.
Barton and Luella were both sitting on the sofa, when Mr. Sealy
and Stanley Ginsling came in, much to Mrs. Sealy's disgust, and
she managed to separate them several times during the evening by
resorting to the manoeuvres which never fail an accomplished
female tactician; but as her daughter invariably returned to her
seat near Barton, she was determined to make a final effort that
should not fail.
"Luella," she said, "will you kindly favor us with a little music?
Give us that duet Mr. Ginsling and you rendered the other evening.
You have a magnificent bass voice, sir," she said to Mr. Ginsling,
in her most dulcet tones; "will you not kindly assist Miss Sealy?"
"Your will is my pleasure," Ginsling replied, "though I would
rather sit and listen while Miss Sealy gives us a number of her
varied and delightful selections. The last time I was here I
thought her playing was exquisite."
"Mr. Barton will excuse you," said Mrs. Sealy, after a significant
pause, and her tone conveyed the idea that the remark was merely a
cold conventionalism.
"Certainly," he replied.
Luella reluctantly left her seat on the sofa and took her position
at the piano. The mother had certainly manifested the astuteness
of an accomplished artist, for she had not only separated her
daughter and Barton, but by her manner wounded his sensitive
nature, and had also given Mr. Ginsling to understand that, if he
wished to pay his addresses to Miss Sealy, his doing so would be
eminently satisfactory to her parents.
Barton's position, after what had occurred, was an unenviable one,
for he was placed in the cruel dilemma of either remaining in a
home where his presence was not agreeable to the host and hostess,
or abruptly leaving without having an understanding with the one
he so dearly loved. He chose the latter alternative, and burning
with indignation, but with cool exterior, he took advantage of the
pause which ensued after Miss Sealy and Ginsling had finished
their duet, and politely took his leave. Luella, though she knew
it was contrary to her mother's wishes, accompanied him to the
door and bade him an affectionate goodbye.
These events transpired on the day previous to that on which the
mother and daughter engaged in the conversation which is related
in the commencement of this chapter.