SEEKING HIS FORTUNE.
A wide future smiles before him,
His heart will beat for fame,
And he will learn to breathe with love
The music of a name,
Writ on the tablets of his heart
In characters of flame.
--Sargent.
When the winter's course of medical lectures at the Washington College
was over, late in the spring, Traverse Rocke returned to Willow Heights.
The good doctor gave him a glad welcome, congratulating him upon his
improved appearance and manly bearing.
Clara received him with blushing pleasure, and Marah Rocke with all the
mother's love for her only child.
He quickly fell into the old pleasant routine of his country life,
resumed his arduous studies in the doctor's office, his work in the
flower garden, and his morning rides and evening talk with the doctor's
lovely child.
Not the least obstacle was set in the way of his association with Clara,
yet Traverse, grown stronger and wiser than his years would seem to
promise, controlled both his feelings and his actions, and never
departed from the most respectful reserve, or suffered himself to be
drawn into that dangerous familiarity to which their constant
companionship might tempt him.
Marah Rocke, with maternal pride, witnessed his constant self-control
and encouraged him to persevere. Often in the enthusiasm of her heart,
when they were alone, she would throw her arm around him, and push the
dark, clustering curls from his fine forehead, and, gazing fondly on his
face, exclaim:
"That is my noble-hearted boy! Oh, Traverse, God will bless you! He only
tries you now to strengthen you!"
Traverse always understood these vague words and would return her
embrace with all his boyish ardor and say:
"God does bless me now, mother! He blesses me so much, in so many, many
ways, that I should be worse than a heathen not to be willing to bear
cheerfully one trial?"
And so Traverse would "reck his own rede" and cultivate cheerful
gratitude as a duty to God and man.
Clara, also, now, with her feminine intuition, comprehended her reserved
lover, honored his motives and rested satisfied with being so deeply
loved, trusting all their unknown future to heaven.
The doctor's appreciation and esteem for Traverse increased with every
new unfolding of the youth's heart and intellect, and never did master
take more pains with a favorite pupil, or father with a beloved son,
than did the doctor to push Traverse on in his profession. The
improvement of the youth was truly surprising.
Thus passed the summer in healthful alternation of study and exercise.
When the season waned, late in the autumn, he went a second time to
Washington to attend the winter's course of lectures at the Medical
College.
The doctor gave him letters recommending him as a young man of
extraordinary talents and of excellent moral character, to the
particular attention of several of the most eminent professors.
His mother bore this second parting with more cheerfulness, especially
as the separation was enlivened by frequent letters from Traverse, full
of the history of the present and the hopes of the future.
The doctor did not forget from time to time to jog the memories of his
friends, the professors of the medical college, that they might afford
his protege every facility and assistance in the prosecution of his
studies.
Toward spring Traverse wrote to his friends that his hopes were sanguine
of obtaining his diploma at the examination to be held at the end of the
session. And when Traverse expressed this hope, they who knew him so
well felt assured that he had made no vain boast.
And so it proved, for early in April Traverse Rocke returned home with a
diploma in his pocket.
Sincere was the joyful sympathy that met him.
The doctor shook him cordially by the hands, declaring that he was the
first student he ever knew to get his diploma at the end of only three
years' study.
Clara, amid smiles and blushes, congratulated him.
And Mrs. Rocke, as soon as she had him alone, threw her arms around his
neck and wept for joy.
A few days Traverse gave up solely to enjoyment of his friends' society,
and then, growing restless, he began to talk of opening an office and
hanging out a sign in Staunton.
He consulted the doctor upon this subject. The good doctor heard him out
and then, caressing his own chin and looking over the tops of his
spectacles, with good-humored satire, he said:
"My dear boy, you have confidence enough in me by this time to bear that
I should speak plainly to you?"
"Oh, Doctor Day, just say whatever you like!" replied the young man,
fervently.
"Very well, then. I shall speak very plainly--to wit--you'll never
succeed in Staunton! No, not if you had the genius of Galen and
Esculapius, Abernethy and Benjamin Rush put together!"
"My dear sir--why?"
"Because, my son, it is written that 'a prophet hath no honor in his own
city!' Of our blessed Lord and Saviour the contemptuous Jews said, 'Is
not this Jesus, the carpenter's son?'"
"Oh, I understand you, sir!" said Traverse, with a deep blush. "You mean
that the people who used some years ago to employ me to put in their
coal and saw their wood and run their errands, will never trust me to
look at their tongues and feel their pulses and write prescriptions!"
"That's it, my boy! You've defined the difficulty! And now I'll tell you
what you are to do, Traverse! You must go to the West, my lad!"
"Go to the West, sir--leave my mother--leave you--leave"--he hesitated
and blushed.
"Clara? Yes, my son, you must go to the West, leave your mother, leave
me and leave Clara! It will be best for all parties! We managed to live
without our lad, when he was away at his studies in Washington, and we
will try to dispense with him longer if it be for his own good."
"Ah, sir; but then absence had a limitation, and the hope of return
sweetened every day that passed; but if I go to the West to settle it
will be without the remotest hope of returning!"
"Not so, my boy--not so--for just as soon as Doctor Rocke has
established himself in some thriving western town and obtained a good
practice, gained a high reputation and made himself a home--which, as he
is a fast young man, in the best sense of the phrase--he can do in a
very few years--he may come back here and carry to his western home--his
mother," said the doctor, with a mischievous twinkle of his eyes.
"Doctor Day, I owe you more than a son's honor and obedience! I will go
wherever you think it best that I should," said Traverse, earnestly.
"No more than I expected from all my previous knowledge of you,
Traverse! And I, on my part, will give you only such counsel as I should
give my own son, had heaven blessed me with one. And now, Traverse,
there is no better season for emigration than the spring, and no better
point to stop and make observations at than St. Louis! Of course, the
place of your final destination must be left for future consideration. I
have influential friends at St. Louis to whom I will give you letters."
"Dear sir, to have matured this plan so well you must have been kindly
thinking of my future this long time past!" said Traverse, gratefully.
"Of course--of course! Who has a better right? Now go and break this
plan to your mother."
Traverse pressed the doctor's hand and went to seek his mother. He found
her in his room busy among his clothing. He begged her to stop and sit
down while he talked to her. And when she had done so, he told her the
doctor's plan. He had almost feared that his mother would meet this
proposition with sighs and tears.
To his surprise and pleasure, Mrs. Rocke received the news with an
encouraging smile, telling him that the doctor had long prepared her
to expect that her boy would very properly go and establish himself
in the West; that she should correspond with him frequently, and as
soon as he should be settled, come and keep house for him.
Finally she said that, anticipating this emergency, she had, during her
three years' residence beneath the doctor's roof, saved three hundred
dollars, which she should give her boy to start with.
The tears rushed to the young man's eyes.
"For your dear sake, mother, only for yours, may they become three
hundred thousand in my hands!" he exclaimed.
Preparations were immediately commenced for Traverse's journey.
As before, Clara gladly gave her aid in getting ready his wardrobe. As
he was about to make his debut as a young physician in a strange city,
his mother was anxious that his dress should be faultless; and,
therefore, put the most delicate needlework upon all the little articles
of his outfit. Clara volunteered to mark them all. And one day, when
Traverse happened to be alone with his mother, she showed him his
handkerchiefs, collars and linen beautifully marked in minute
embroidered letters.
"I suppose, Traverse, that you, being a young man, cannot appreciate the
exquisite beauty of this work," she said.
"Indeed, but I can, mother! I did not sit by your side so many years
while you worked without knowing something about it. This is wonderful!
The golden thread with which the letters are embroidered is finer than
the finest silk I ever saw!" said Traverse, admiringly, to please his
mother, whom he supposed to be the embroideress.
"Well they may be!" said Mrs. Rocke, "for that golden thread of which
you speak is Clara's golden hair, which she herself has drawn out and
threaded her needle with, and worked into the letters of your name."
Traverse suddenly looked up, his color went and came, he had no words to
reply.
"I told you because I thought it would give you pleasure to know it, and
that it would be a comfort to you when you are far away from us; for,
Traverse, I hope that by this time you have grown strong and wise enough
to have conquered yourself, and to enjoy dear Clara's friendship
aright!"
"Mother!" he said, sorrowfully, and then his voice broke down, and
without another word he turned and left the room.
To feel how deeply and hopelessly he loved the doctor's sweet
daughter--to feel sure that she perceived and returned his dumb,
despairing love--and to know that duty, gratitude, honor commanded him
to be silent, to tear himself away from her and make no sign, was a
trial almost too great for the young heart's integrity. Scarcely could
he prevent the internal struggle betraying itself upon his countenance.
As the time drew near for his departure self-control grew difficult and
almost impossible. Even Clara lost her joyous spirits and despite all
her efforts to be cheerful, grew so pensive that her father, without
seeming to understand the cause, gayly rallied her upon her dejection.
Traverse understood it and almost longed for the day to come when he
should leave this scene of his love and his sore trial.
One afternoon, a few days before he was to start, Doctor Day sent for
Traverse to come to him in his study. And as soon as they were seated
comfortably together at the table the doctor put into the young man's
hand a well-filled pocketbook; and when Traverse, with a deep and
painful blush, would have given it back, he forced it upon him with the
old argument:
"It is only a loan, my boy! Money put out at interest! Capital well and
satisfactorily invested! And now listen to me! I am about to speak to
you of that which is much nearer your heart----"
Traverse became painfully embarrassed.
"Traverse," resumed the doctor, "I have grown to love you as a son, and
to esteem you as a man. I have lived long enough to value solid
integrity far beyond wealth or birth, and when that integrity is adorned
and enriched by high talents, it forms a character of excellence not
often met with in this world. I have proved both your integrity and your
talents, Traverse, and I am more than satisfied with you--I am proud of
you, my boy."
Traverse bowed deeply, but still blushed.
"You will wonder," continued the doctor, "to what all this talk tends. I
will tell you. Traverse, I have long known your unspoken love for Clara,
and I have honored your scruples in keeping silent, when silence must
have been so painful. Your trial is now over, my son! Go and open for
yourself an honorable career in the profession you have chosen and
mastered, and return, and Clara shall be yours!"
Traverse, overwhelmed with surprise and joy at this incredible good
fortune, seized the doctor's hand, and in wild and incoherent language
tried to express his gratitude.
"There--there," said the doctor, "go and tell Clara all this and bring
the roses back to her cheeks, and then your parting will be the happier
for this hope before you."
"I must speak! I must speak first!" said the young man, in a choking
voice. "I must tell you some little of the deep gratitude I feel for
you, sir. Oh, when I forget all that you have done for me, 'may my right
hand forget her cunning!' may God and man forget me! Doctor Day, the
Lord helping me for your good sake, I will be all that you have
prophesied, and hope and expect of me! For your sake, for Clara's and my
mother's, I will bend every power of my mind, soul and body to attain
the eminence you desire for me! In a word, the Lord giving me grace, I
will become worthy of being your son and Clara's husband."
"There, there, my dear boy, go and tell Clara all that!" said the
doctor, pressing the young man's hand and dismissing him.
Traverse went immediately to seek Clara, whom he found sitting alone in
the parlor.
She was bending over some delicate needlework that Traverse knew by
instinct was intended for himself.
Now, had Traverse foreseen from the first the success of his love, there
might possibly have been the usual shyness and hesitation in declaring
himself to the object of his affection. But although he and Clara had
long deeply and silently loved and understood each other, yet neither
had dared to hope for so improbable an event as the doctor's favoring
their attachment, and now, under the exciting influence of the surprise,
joy and gratitude with which the doctor's magnanimity had filled his
heart, Traverse forgot all shyness and hesitation, and, stepping quickly
to Clara's side, and dropping gently upon one knee, he took her hand,
and, bowing his head upon it, said:
"Clara, my own, own Clara, your dear father has given me leave to tell
you at last how much and how long I have loved you!" and then he arose
and sat down beside her.
The blush deepened upon Clara's cheek, tears filled her eyes, and her
voice trembled as she murmured: "Heaven bless my dear father! He is
unlike every other man on earth!"
"Oh, he is--he is!" said Traverse, fervently, "and, dear Clara, never
did a man strive so hard for wealth, fame, or glory, as I shall strive
to become 'worthy to be called his son!'"
"Do, Traverse--do, dear Traverse! I want you to honor even his very
highest drafts upon your moral and intellectual capacities! I know you
are 'worthy' of his high regard now, else he never would have chosen you
as his son--but I am ambitious for you, Traverse! I would have your
motto be, 'Excelsior!'--higher!" said the doctor's daughter.
"And you, dear Clara, may I venture to hope that you do not disapprove
of your father's choice, or reject the hand that he permits me to offer
you?" said Traverse, for though he understood Clara well enough, yet
like all honest men, he wanted some definite and practical engagement.
"There is my hand--my heart was yours long ago," murmured the maiden, in
a tremulous voice.
He took and pressed that white hand to his heart, looked hesitatingly
and pleadingly in her face for an instant, and then, drawing her gently
to his bosom, sealed their betrothal on her pure lips.
Then they sat side by side, and hand in hand, in a sweet silence for a
few moments, and then Clara said:
"You have not told your mother yet! Go and tell her, Traverse; it will
make her so happy! And Traverse, I will be a daughter to her, while you
are gone. Tell her that, too."
"Dear girl, you have always been as kind and loving to my mother as it
was possible to be. How can you ever be more so than you have been?"
"I shall find a way!" smiled Clara.
Again he pressed her hand to his heart and to his lips, and left the
room to find his mother. He had a search before he discovered her at
last in the drawing-room, arranging it for their evening fireside
gathering.
"Come, mother, and sit down by me on this sofa, for I have glorious
tidings for your ear! Dear Clara sent me from her own side to tell you!"
"Ah, still thinking--always thinking, madly thinking of the doctor's
daughter! Poor, poor boy!" said Mrs. Rocke.
"Yes, and always intend to think of her to the very end of my life, and
beyond, if possible! But come, dear mother, and hear me explain!" said
Traverse, and as soon as Mrs. Rocke had taken the indicated seat,
Traverse commenced and related to her the substance of the conversation
between the doctor and himself in the library, in which the former
authorized his addresses to his daughter, and also his own subsequent
explanation and engagement with Clara.
Mrs. Rocke listened to all this, in unbroken silence, and when, at
length, Traverse had concluded his story, she clasped her hands and
raised her eyes, uttering fervent thanksgivings to the fountain of all
mercies.
"You do not congratulate me, dear mother."
"Oh, Traverse, I am returning thanks to heaven on your behalf! Oh, my
son! my son; but that such things as these are Providential, I should
tremble to see you so happy! So I will not presume to congratulate! I
will pray for you!"
"Dear mother, you have suffered so much in your life that you are
incredulous of happiness! Be more hopeful and confiding! The Bible says,
'There remaineth now these three--Faith, Hope and Charity--but the
greatest of all is Charity.' You have Charity enough, dear mother; try
to have more Faith and Hope, and you will be happier! And look--there is
Clara coming this way! She does not know that we are here. I will call
her. Dear Clara, come in and convince my mother--she will not believe in
our happiness," said Traverse, going to the door and leading his
blushing and smiling betrothed into the room.
"It may be that Mrs. Rocke does not want me for a daughter-in-law," said
Clara, archly, as she approached and put her hand in that of Marah.
"Not want you, my own darling!" said Marah Rocke, putting her arm around
Clara's waist, and drawing her to her bosom, "not want you! You know I
am just as much in love with you as Traverse himself can be! And I have
longed for you, my sweet, longed for you as an unattainable blessing,
ever since that day when Traverse first left us, and you came and laid
your bright head on my bosom and wept with me!"
"And now if we must cry a little when Traverse leaves us, we can go and
take comfort in being miserable together, with a better understanding of
our relations!" said Clara with an arch smile.
"Where are you all? Where is everybody--that I am left wandering about
the lonely house like a poor ghost in Hades?" said the doctor's cheerful
voice in the passage without.
"Here, father--here we are--a family party, wanting only you to complete
it," answered his daughter, springing to meet him.
The doctor came in smiling, pressed his daughter to his bosom, shook
Traverse cordially by the hand, and kissed Marah Rocke's cheek. That was
his way of congratulating himself and all others on the betrothal.
The evening was passed in unalloyed happiness.
Let them enjoy it! It was their last of comfort--that bright evening!
Over that household was already gathering a cloud heavy and dark with
calamity--calamity that must have overwhelmed the stability of any faith
which was not as theirs was--stayed upon God.