CHAPTER XLIII.

THE EXAMINATION.

"Certainly," said Mr. Amory, "I can well understand that a man of a

generous spirit could hardly fail to cherish a deep and lasting

gratitude for one who devoted herself so disinterestedly to a toilsome

attendance upon the last hours of beloved friends, to whose wants he

himself was prevented from ministering; and the warmth with which you

eulogise this girl does you credit, Sullivan. She must be a young person

of great excellence to have fulfilled so well a promise of such remote

date that it would probably have been ignored by a less disinterested

friend.

"I can hardly believe that a young man who has had the ambition to mark

out, and the energy to pursue, such a course on the road to fortune as

you have thus far successfully followed, can have made a serious resolve

to unite himself and his prospects with an insignificant little

playmate, of unacknowledged birth, without beauty or fortune, unless

there is already an engagement, by which he is bound, or he allows

himself to be drawn on to matrimony by the belief that the highest

compliment he can pay (namely, the offer of himself) will alone cancel

the immense obligations under which he labours. May I ask if you are

already shackled by promises?"

"I am not," replied Willie.

"Then listen a moment. My motives are friendly when I beg you not to act

rashly in a matter which will affect the happiness of your own life; and

to hear, with patience, too, if you can, the few words which I have to

say on the subject. You must mistake, my young friend, if you believe

that the happiness of Gerty, as you call her--a very ugly name--can be

insured, any more than your own, by an ill-assorted union, of which you

will both find cause to repent. You have not seen her for six years,

think then of all that has happened in the meantime, and beware of

acting with precipitation. You have all this time been living abroad in

active life, growing in knowledge of the world, and its various phases

of society. In India you witnessed a mode of life wholly different from

that which prevails with us, or in European cities; but the

independence, both of character and manner, which you there acquired

fitted you admirably for the polished sphere of Parisian life, to which

you were so suddenly introduced, and in which you met with such marked

success.

"Notwithstanding the privilege you enjoy of being presented in polite

circles as the friend of a man so well known and so much respected as

Mr. Clinton, you cannot have been insensible to the marked attentions

bestowed upon you by American residents abroad, or unaware of the

advantage you enjoyed, on your return home, from having been known as

the object of such favour. Though I did not meet you in Paris, I was

there at the same time, and became acquainted with facts which you would

have too much modesty to acknowledge. It is also evident that your pride

must have been flattered by the favourable reception you have met, both

abroad and at home, especially from the young and beautiful women who

have honoured you with their smiles, and among whom she whose name the

crowd already associates with your own stands preeminent.

"When I think of all this, and of those pecuniary hopes you may indulge,

and imagine you flinging all these aside to chivalrously throw yourself

at the feet of your mother's little nurse, I find it impossible to keep

silent and avoid reminding you of the disappointment that must ensue on

finding yourself at once and for ever shut out from participation in

pleasures which have been within your reach and voluntarily discarded.

You must remember that much of the consideration which is paid to a

young bachelor of growing prospects ceases to be awarded to him after

marriage, and is never extended to his bride, unless she be chosen from

the select circles to which he aspires. This unportioned orphan with

whom you propose to share your fate--this little patient

school-mistress----"

"I did not tell you she had ever been a teacher!" exclaimed Willie,

stopping short in his walk up and down the room--"I did not tell you

anything of the sort! How did you know it?"

Mr. Amory, who had thus betrayed more knowledge than he had been

supposed to possess, hesitated a moment, but quickly recovering himself

answered, with apparent frankness, "To tell the truth, Sullivan, I have

seen the girl in company with an old doctor."

"Dr. Jeremy?" asked Willie, quickly.

"The same."

"When did you see her? How did it happen?"

"I happened to see the old gentleman in the course of my travels, and

this Gertrude Flint was with him. He told me a few facts concerning her;

nothing to her disadvantage, however; in warning you against a

misalliance, I speak only in general terms."

Willie looked at Mr. Amory wondering, and was anxious to learn further

particulars. Mr. Amory went on without giving him a chance to speak.

"This Gerty, Sullivan, will be a dead weight upon your hands--a constant

drawback to all your efforts to attain fashionable society, in which she

cannot be fitted to shine. You yourself pronounce her to be without

wealth or beauty; of her family you know nothing, and have certainly

little reason to expect that, if discovered, it would do her any credit.

I believe, then, that I only speak from the dictates of common sense

when I bid you beware how you make, in the disposal of yourself, such an

unequal bargain."

"I am willing to believe, sir," said Willie, "that the arguments you

have adduced upon a question most important to my welfare are based upon

calm reasoning and a disinterested desire to promote my prosperity. I

confess you are the last man, judging from our short acquaintance, from

whom I should have expected such advice, for I had believed you so

indifferent to the applause of the world that they would weigh but

little with you in forming estimates for the guidance of others. Still,

though your suggestions have failed to change my sentiments or

intentions, I thank you for the sincerity and earnestness with which you

have sought to mould my judgment by your own, and will reply to your

arguments with such frankness as will, I think, persuade you that, so

far from following the impulses of a blind enthusiasm, to plunge with

haste into a course of action hereafter to be deplored, I am actuated by

feelings which reason approves, and which have already stood the test of

experience.

"You speak truly when you impute to me a natural taste for good society;

a taste which poverty, and the retirement in which my boyhood was

passed, gave me little opportunity to manifest, but which had some

influence in determining my aims and ambition in life. The fine houses,

equipages, and clothes of the rich had less charm for my fancy than the

ease, refinement, and elegance of manner which distinguished some few of

their owners who came under my observation; and, much as I desired the

attainment of wealth for the sake of intrinsic advantages, and the means

it would afford of contributing to the happiness of others, it would

have seemed to me divested of its value should it fail to secure to its

possessor a free admittance to the polite and polished circle upon which

I looked with admiring eyes.

"I needed not, therefore, the social deprivations I experienced in India

to prepare me to enter with eager zest into the excitement and pleasures

of Parisian life, to which, through the kindness of Mr. Clinton, I

obtained, as it seems you are aware, a free and immediate introduction.

"It is true I was summoned thither at a time when my spirits had been

for months struggling with depression, caused by sad news from home, and

had not, therefore, the least disposition to avail myself of Mr.

Clinton's politeness; but the feebleness of his health, and his

inability to enjoy the gaieties of the place, compelled me to offer

myself as an escort to his daughter, who, fond of society, accepted my

services, thus drawing me into the very whirl and vortex of fashionable

life, in which I soon found much to flatter, bewilder, and intoxicate. I

could not be insensible to the privileges so unexpectedly accorded to

me, nor could my vanity be wholly proof against the assaults made upon

it. Nor was my manliness of character alone at stake. But the soundness

of principle and simplicity of habit implanted in me from childhood, and

hitherto preserved intact, soon found themselves at stake. I had

withstood every kind of gross temptation, but my new associates now

presented it to me in that subtle form which often proves a snare. The

wine-cup could never have enticed me to the disgusting scenes of drunken

revelry; but held in the hands of the polished gentlemen, who had, but a

moment before, been the recipients of popular favour and women's smiles,

it sparkled with a richer lustre, and its bitter dregs were forgotten.

The professed gamester would vainly have sought me for an accomplice;

but I was not equally on my guard against the danger which awaited me

from other unexpected quarters; for how could I believe that my friends,

Mr. Clinton's friends, the ornaments of the sphere in which they moved,

would unfairly win my money, and lead me to ruin? I wonder as I look

back upon my residence in Paris that I did not fall a victim to one of

the snares that were on every side spread for my destruction, and into

which my social disposition and unsophisticated nature rendered me prone

to fall. Nothing but the recollection of my pure-minded and watchful

mother, whose recent death had recalled to my mind her warning

counsels--deemed by me, at the time, unnecessary; but now, springing up

and arming themselves with a solemn meaning--nothing but the

consciousness of her gentle spirit, ever hovering around my path,

saddened by my conflicts, rejoicing in my triumphs, could ever have

given me courage and perseverance to resist, and finally escape, the

pitfalls into which my unwary steps would have plunged me. Had I

approached the outskirts of fashionable life, and been compelled to

linger with longing eyes at the threshold; I might even now be loitering

there, a deceived spectator of joys which it was not permitted to me to

enter and share; or, having gained a partial entrance, be eagerly

employed, in pushing my way onward.

"But admitted at once into the arcana of a sphere I was eager to

penetrate, my eyes were soon opened to the vain and worthless nature of

the bauble Fashion. Not that I did not meet within its courts the wit,

talent, and refinement which I had hoped to find there, or that these

were invariably accompanied by less attractive qualities. No; I truly

believe there is no class which cannot boast of its heroes and heroines,

and that there are, within the walks of fashionable life, men and women

who would grace a wilderness. Nor do I despise forms and ceremonies

which are becoming in themselves, and conducive to elegance and good

breeding. As long as one class is distinguished by education and refined

manners, and another is marked by ignorance and vulgarity, there must be

a dividing line between the two, which neither perhaps would desire to

overstep."

"You are young," said Mr. Amory, "to be such a philosopher. Many a man

has turned away with disgust from an aristocracy into which he could

himself gain no admittance; but few renounce it voluntarily."

"Few, perhaps," replied Willie, "few _young_ men have had to penetrate

its secrets. I may say without treachery, since I speak in general terms

only, that I have seen more ignorance, more ill-breeding, meanness, and

immorality in the so-called aristocracy of our country than I should

have believed it possible would be tolerated there. I have known

instances in which the most accomplished gentleman, or the most

beautiful lady, of a gay circle has given evidence of want of

information on the most common topics. I have seen elegant evening

assemblies disgraced by the greatest rudeness and incivility. I have

seen the lavish expenditure of to-day atoned for by a despicable

parsimony on the morrow; and I have seen a want of principle exhibited

by both sexes, which proves that a high position is no security against

such contamination of the soul as unfits it for an exalted place

hereafter."

"I have witnessed no less myself," said Mr. Amory; "but my experiences

have not been like those of other men, and my sight has been sharpened

by circumstances. I am still astonished that you should have been awake

to these facts."

"I was not at first," answered Willie. "It was only gradually that I

recovered from the blinding effect which the glitter and show of Fashion

imposed upon my perceptions. My suspicions of its falsehood and vanities

were based upon instances of selfishness, folly, and cold-heartedness

which came to my knowledge. I could relate thousands of mean deceits,

contemptible rivalries, and neglect of sacred duties which came under my

immediate observation.

"Especially was I astonished at the effect of an uninterrupted pursuit

of pleasure upon the sensibilities, the tempers, and the domestic

affections of women. Though bearing within my heart an image of female

goodness and purity, this sweet remembrance might possibly have been

driven from its throne and supplanted by one of the lovely faces which

at first bewildered me by their beauty, had these last been the index to

souls of equal perfection. There may be noble and excellent women moving

in the highest walks of life whose beauty and grace are less admirable

than their own high natures; but among those with whom I became

familiarly acquainted there was not one who could in the least compare

with her who was continually present to my memory, who is still, and

ever must be, a model to her sex.

"Gertrude Flint was the standard by which each in my mind was measured.

How could I help contrasting the folly, the worldliness, and the

cold-heartedness around me with the cultivated mind, the

self-sacrificing and affectionate disposition of one who possesses every

quality that can adorn life? You failed to convince me that Gertrude can

in any way be a drawback to the man who shall be so fortunate as to call

her his. For my own part, I desire no better, no more truly aristocratic

position in life than that to which she is so well entitled, and to

which she would be one of the brightest ornaments--the aristocracy of

true refinement, knowledge, grace, and beauty. You talk to me of wealth.

Gertrude has no money in her purse, but her soul is the pure gold, tried

in the furnace of sorrow and affliction, and thence come forth bright

and unalloyed. You speak of family and an honourable birth. She has no

family, and her birth is shrouded in mystery; but the blood that courses

in her veins would never disgrace the race from which she sprung, and

every throb of her unselfish heart allies her to all that is noble.

"You are eloquent upon the subject of beauty. When I parted from

Gertrude, she was, in all but character, a mere child, being only

thirteen years of age. Though much altered and improved since the time

when she first came among us, I scarcely think she could have been said

to possess much of what the world calls beauty. It was a matter of which

I seldom thought or cared; and had I been less indifferent on the

subject, she was so dear to me that I should have been unable to form an

impartial judgment of her claims in this respect.

"I well remember, however, the indignation I once felt at hearing a

fellow-clerk, who had met her in one of our walks, sneeringly contrast

her personal appearance with that of our employer's handsome daughter,

Miss Clinton; and the proportionate rapture with which I listened to the

excellent teacher, Miss Brown, when, being present at a school

examination, I overheard her commenting to a lady upon Gertrude's

wonderful promise in person as well as in mind. Whether the first part

of this promise has been fulfilled I have no means of judging; but as I

recall her dignified and graceful little figure, her large, intelligent,

sparkling eyes, the glow of feeling that lit up her countenance, and the

peaceful, almost majestic expression which purity of soul imparted to

her yet childish features, she stands forth to my remembrance the

embodiment of all that I hold most dear.

"Six years may have outwardly changed her much; but they cannot have

robbed her of what I prize the most. She has charms over which time can

have no power, a grace that is a gift of Heaven, a beauty that is

eternal. Could I ask for more? Do not believe, then, that my fidelity to

my early playmate is an emotion of gratitude merely. It is true I owe

her much--far more than I can ever repay; but the honest warmth of my

affection for the noble girl springs from the truest love of a purity of

character and singleness of heart which I had never seen equalled.

"What is there in the foolish walks of Fashion, the glitter of wealth,

the homage of an idle crowd, that could so elevate my spirit and inspire

my exertions as the thought of a peaceful, happy home, blessed by a

presiding spirit so formed for confidence, love, and a communion that

time can never dissolve and eternity will but render more secure and

unbroken?"

"And she whom you love so well--are you sure----" asked Mr. Phillips,

speaking with a visible effort, and faltering ere he had completed his

sentence.

"No," answered Willie, anticipating the question. "I know what you would

ask. I am _not_ sure. I have no reason to indulge the hopes I have been

dwelling upon so fondly; but I do not regret having spoken with such

candour; for, should she grieve my heart by her coldness, I should still

be proud to have loved her. Until this time, since I gained my native

land, I have been shackled with duties which, sacred as they were, have

chafed a spirit longing for freedom to follow its own impulses. In this

visit to you, sir, I have fulfilled the last obligation imposed upon me

by my excellent friend, and to-morrow I shall be at liberty to go where

my duty alone prevented me from at once hastening."

He offered his hand to Mr. Amory, who grasped it with a cordiality very

different from the feeble greeting he had given him on his entrance,

"Good-bye," said he, "You carry with you my best wishes for a success

which you seem to have so much at heart; but some day or other I feel

sure you will be reminded of all I have said to you this evening."

"Strange man!" thought Willie, as he walked towards his hotel. "How

warmly he shook my hand at parting! and how affectionately he bade me

farewell, notwithstanding the cold reception he gave me, and the

pertinacity with which I rejected his opinions and repelled his advice!"

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