BEGINNING TO RISE.
LAW was finally decided upon as the profession for Lawrence Dunbar, and
he was placed in the office of an attorney named Harker. At the same
time, Hudson commenced the study of medicine. To sustain these young
men for two or three years longer, required sacrifices to be made at
home. The father of Dunbar had already unjustly deprived his daughters
of many advantages, in order to provide for the elevation of the family
through the eminence to be acquired by the son; and now he proposed
that they should learn trades, in order to support themselves, and
relieve him of the burden of their maintenance.
Ellen, who was a year older than Lawrence, and Mary, who was two years
younger, accordingly went to learn trades soon after the son entered
upon his legal studies. The one became a mantua-maker, and the other a
tailoress. Six months of apprenticeship proved sufficient to qualify
Ellen and Mary to take care of themselves. After that time, they went
out into families to sew, and were rarely at home except on Sundays.
Although not fairly dealt by, the two girls did not murmur, nor was
their affection for their brother at all diminished. In fact, the
common purpose of the family was one in which Ellen and Mary took their
appropriate share, and felt their allotted interest. To Lawrence was
committed the task of elevating and giving to the family a name, and
it was their duty, as well as pleasure, to aid in all ways possible.
So they felt, and so they acted. The acquiring of a trade, and the
maintenance of themselves, in order that the expense of supporting
Lawrence, until able to support himself, might be the more easily
borne, were not matters of necessity, so much as they were matters of
choice, after the suggestion as to what would be best for them to do,
had been made by their father. That is, Mr. Dunbar did not say that
they must learn trades and support themselves; but merely suggested it,
as a relief to himself, more heavily burdened with expenses than he
could well bear. He well knew that a hint would be sufficient. Had he
not, a command would have done what a word accomplished.
It did not take more than a year for Lawrence to rise high enough to
feel superior to all his family—father, mother, and sisters; and to
allude to the former as the "old man" and the "old woman." His fine
talents and superior education made him a favorite with his legal
preceptor, who took pleasure in introducing him to persons moving in
a much higher sphere, and into families where there was a degree of
elegance and refinement far beyond what he had been used to seeing. He
next began to be ashamed of Ellen and Mary, who were without any polite
accomplishments, and degraded to the position of mere sempstresses; and
this, too, when they generously supplied him with pocket-money out of
their hard earnings!
At twenty-two, Lawrence Dunbar was admitted to practice. The attorney
under whom his studies had been conducted, saw what was in him.
"We shall hear of that young man yet," he said, in allusion to his
student, while conversing with a member of the profession on the day
Lawrence was admitted to the bar. "He has got it in him, if ever a
young lawyer had. Shrewd, acute, ardent, and ambitious; there is
nothing in the way of his rising in the world. Ten years from this, and
he will be on the Bench, or in the Halls of Legislation."
"If not too scrupulous about the means necessary to be used."
"I believe him to be perfectly honorable, in the general acceptation
of the term. No doubt he will look to his own interests. He would be a
fool if he did not."
"Any man is. But, you know, there are some persons who are troubled
with very tender consciences, and who are exceedingly nice in stepping
along, lest they tread upon somebody's toes. Of course they make but
slow progress; if, indeed, two steps backwards are not taken to every
one forwards."
"Dunbar, if I understand his character aright, is not troubled with any
such tenderness of conscience. He will let people take care of their
own toes."
"So I should think, from what little I have seen of him. Would you not
do well to associate him with you in your larger practice? You have had
his assistance so long, that I should think you could hardly do without
him."
"Just what I have been thinking about. It would give him a chance, and
really take nothing from me; for I have more practice than I can attend
to properly. And, besides I feel a pride in the young man, and want to
see him distinguish himself. His talents must not be hidden under a
bushel."
In a day or two, the lawyer who had been his preceptor, said to
Lawrence—
"Have you found an office to suit you?"
"Not yet," was replied. "I have seen two or three, but do not like the
locations."
"You are still determined to commence your profession in this city?"
"Oh, yes. I have no ambition to be a mere country lawyer. I feel that I
have talents, and I wish to give them an appropriate sphere."
"You mean to rise in your profession?"
"I do, in spite of all difficulties."
"Your progress will be slow at first."
"I am aware of that. But I have patience, and can 'bide my time.' I
shall not be so foolish as to attempt to run before I can walk, and
thus incur the risk of stumbling. But I will be content to creep, then
walk, and afterwards run."
"Wisely resolved. Above all things, hold fast to the spirit of
patience. Impatience clouds the mind, and leads, inevitably, to
mistakes. In the profession you have chosen, you will need a cool head
and a firm heart. The one you will find as requisite as the other."
"Of that I am convinced. Indispensable to success, especially in law,
is a certain sternness as well as firmness of purpose. It will not do
to give place to amiable weaknesses, or deferences to the feelings
and interests of others. This would be to look back after having once
grasped the plough. As for me, I am not made of such yielding stuff. My
very life-purpose is to rise, and I mean to make all else bend to that
purpose."
"Keep to this, Lawrence, and your success is certain. You have
expressed right sentiments. Whoever looks to rising in the world,
must lay aside what you have justly called 'amiable weaknesses,' and
prepare, with a sternness of purpose, for the attainment of his ends.
I have been thinking about you, for a day or two, quite earnestly,
and have finally concluded to offer you a share in my business, which
you know is large, if you care about accepting it. In fact, I hardly
see how I can do well without you. Associated with me, you would have
the opportunity of at once coming forward in the argument of causes
of lieve importance, and thus gaining public attention. How does my
proposition strike you?"
"How else than favorably could it strike me? No hesitation or
reflection is needed on my part. Without any statement of the terms of
the association, I accept your proposition."
The terms which the lawyer proposed, and which were approved, were a
fifth of the proceeds of his practice from the day a joint interest was
arranged between him and his former student.
This arrangement made Lawrence at once independent of his family.
The fact of independence, the moment it existed, brought the feeling
of independence, and with this came a lighter estimation of the
sacrifices that had been made for, and the benefits received by him.
Some time before this he had grown cold towards his sisters, whose
want of gentility and polite accomplishments made them, in his eyes,
inferior and beneath him. Instead of devoting a part of his income to
their maintenance, and to the completion of their detective education
(especially in the case of his youngest sister, who had not yet reached
her twentieth year), he thought only of himself, and looked upon the
money he was earning as one of the levers he was to use in elevating
himself. He gave place in his mind to no "amiable weaknesses." He
understood too well what was due to himself.
When Lloyd Hudson came home from college, he had very different
feelings towards his sisters. He went with them into company, and was,
to some extent, proud of them, for they were good looking, dressed
with taste, and had as much intelligence as any of the young ladies
with whom they associated. He had not yet seen enough of society to
enable him to make the disparaging contrasts that arose in his mind a
year subsequently. Among the friends of his sisters was a young girl
named Mary Lee, to whom Lloyd was introduced soon after he came home
from college. She was an orphan, and lived with an aunt who had a small
income. This aunt, who was much attached to Mary, had spared no expense
that she could afford in the education of her niece, who was a very
beautiful girl, and highly accomplished for one in her condition.
With this lovely and accomplished young creature Lawrence Dunbar was
enamored, almost at first sight. She seemed a worthy object of his
regard, and one who would grace any social position to which he might
attain. No very long time passed before he was so deeply in love
with her, that words were scarcely necessary to assure the maiden of
the fact. Her heart easily yielded. When he ventured to breathe the
sentiment that was in his heart, tears of joy sprang into her eyes as a
glad response. Though her lips uttered no sound, the young man read the
looked-for answer in her countenance.
There were few purer or better hearts than that which beat in the bosom
of Mary Lee. For so selfish and worldly-minded a man as Lawrence Dunbar
promised to be, she was too good. Her love could never fix itself
upon his moral qualities. It was the appearance of all excellences of
character which she saw in him, that she loved, and loved as deeply as
if it were real, because she thought it real.
About a week after Mary Lee had heard from the lips of Dunbar the
heart-thrilling confession of his love, she sat alone, near the close
of a mild evening in June, with Lloyd Hudson, who of late had become
more frequent in his visits. For Lloyd she entertained a feeling of
respect, amounting almost to deference. There was an air of thought
and mien of sobriety about him, that while it did not exactly repel,
interposed between her and him a delicate reserve, which made their
intercourse more polite than familiar.
On the occasion to which we refer, Lloyd was even more thoughtful and
sober than usual. Something seemed to oppress him, and take away his
ability to converse with even his accustomed freedom. At last, he took,
suddenly, the maiden's hand in his, and before she had time to recover
from the surprise occasioned by the unexpected movement, said—
"Mary, answer me frankly one question. Is this hand free?"
"It is not, Mr. Hudson," she replied, withdrawing it from his.
"Not free!" he ejaculated with surprise, while the blood rushed to his
face. "Can I have heard you aright?"
Mary Lee did not insult the young man by haughty and half-triumphant
scorn. She was too generous, too kind in her nature, and felt too deep
a respect for him to do that. Hers was not even coldness in manner, but
a gentle, yet firm avowal that another had sought and won her love.
For days and weeks, for months and it might be said for years, did Mary
remember at times, and with strange feelings, the look which the young
man cast upon her, as snatching her hand and imprinting a kiss upon it,
he turned suddenly away and fled from her presence.