Hiram was never in serious difficulty before.
When he came carefully to survey the situation, he felt greatly
embarrassed, and in real distress. To understand this, you have only to
recollect what value he placed on church membership. In this he was
perfectly sincere. He felt, too, as he afterward expressed it to Mr.
Bennett, that he had not 'acted just right toward Emma Tenant,' but he
had not the least idea the matter could possibly become a subject of
church discipline. The day for such extraordinary supervision over one's
private affairs had gone by, it is true, but Dr. Chellis, roused and
indignant, would no doubt revive it on this occasion.
Hiram had absented himself the first Sunday after his interview with his
clergyman, but on the following he ventured to take his accustomed seat.
The distant looks and cold return to his greeting which he received from
the principal members of the congregation, were unmistakable. Even the
female portion, with whom he was such a favorite, had evidently declared
against him.
He had gone too far.
However, he went into Sunday school, and took his accustomed seat with
the class under his instruction. It was the first time he had been with
it since he left town to attend on his mother. The young gentleman who
had assumed a temporary charge of this class, which was one of the
finest in the school, shook hands with cool politeness with Hiram, but
did not offer to yield the seat. The latter, already nervous and ill at
ease by reason of his reception among his acquaintances, did not dare
assume his old place, lest he should be told he had been superseded. He
contented himself with greeting his pupils, who appeared glad to see
him, and sitting quietly by while they recited their lesson. Then,
taking advantage of the few moments remaining, he gave them a pathetic
account of the loss of his mother, and exhorted them all to honor and
obey their parents. In the afternoon he did not go back to church, but
went to hear Dr. Pratt, the clergyman who, the reader may recollect, had
been recommended by Mr. Bennett on Hiram's first coming to new York. Our
hero was not at all pleased with this latter gentleman. The fact is, to
a person of Hiram's subtle intellect, a man like Dr. Chellis was a
thousand times more acceptable than a milk-and-water divine.
From Dr. Pratt's, Hiram proceeded to his room, to take a careful survey
of his position, and, as we said at the beginning of the chapter, he
found himself in serious difficulty, greatly embarrassed and in real
distress. He could not join another church, for a letter had been
formally refused from his own. He could not remain where he was, for the
feeling there was too strong against him, besides, evidently, Dr.
Chellis was determined to institute damaging charges against him. He
thought of attempting to make friends with Mr. and Mrs. Tenant, and
humbly asking them to intercede for him, but the recollection of his
last interview with Mrs, Tenant discouraged any hope of success. Emma,
alas! was away, far away, else he would go and appeal to her--not to
reinstate him as her accepted, but--to aid him to get right with Dr.
Chellis. Such were some of the thoughts that went through his brain as
he sat alone by his open window quite into the twilight. He felt worse
and worse. Prayer did not help him, and every chapter which he read in
the Bible added to his misery. At last it occurred to him to step to his
cousin's house, not far distant, and talk the whole matter over there.
Although Mr. Bennett's family were out of town during the summer, he was
obliged to remain most of the season, on account of his business. Up to
this time he had not mentioned the fact of the breaking his engagement;
indeed, he had avoided the subject whenever the two had met, because he
knew he was wrong, and there was something about Mr. Bennett,
notwithstanding his keen, shrewd, adroit mercantile habits, which was
very straightforward and aboveboard, and which Hiram disliked to
encounter. Besides, he had always been praised by his cousin for his
tact and management, and he felt exceedingly mortified at being obliged
to confess himself cornered. But something must be done, and that
speedily. Yes, he would go and consult him. Hiram took his hat and
walked slowly to Mr. Bennett's house. He found him extended on a sofa in
his front parlor, quite alone and in the dark, enjoying apparently with
much zest a fine Havana segar. It was by its light that Hiram was
enabled to discover the smoker.
'Why, Hiram, is it you? Glad to see you!'--so his greeting ran. 'Didn't
know you ever went out Sunday evenings except to church. Take a
segar--oh, you don't smoke. It's deuced lonesome here without the folks.
Must try and get off for a week or two myself. Why didn't I think to ask
you to come and stay with me? Well, we will have some light on the
occasion, and a cup of tea.' And he rose to ring the bell.
'Not just yet, if you please,' said Hiram, checking the other. 'I want
to have some conversation with you, and I need your advice. I am in
trouble.'
By a singular coincidence, these were the very words which Mr. Tenant
employed when he went to consult his friend Dr. Chellis. As Hiram
differed totally from Mr. Tenant, so did the drygoods jobbing merchant
from the Doctor. Both were first-rate advisers in their way: the Doctor
in a humane and noble sort, after his kind; the merchant in a shrewd,
adroit, quick-witted, fertile manner, after his kind.
Mr. Bennett and Hiram both sat on the sofa, even as the Doctor and Mr.
Tenant had sat together. It was quite dark, as I have said, and this
gave Hiram a certain advantage in telling his story, for he dreaded his
cousin's scrutinizing glance.
Mr. Bennett was much alarmed at Hiram's announcement. 'In trouble?' What
could that mean but financial disaster?
'I was afraid he would speculate too much,' said Mr. Bennett to himself;
'but how could he have got such a blow as this? I saw him the day after
his return, and he said everything had gone well in his absence.'
He settled himself, however, resolutely to hear the worst, and, to his
praise be it spoken, fully determined to do what he could to aid the
young man in his difficulties.
Hiram was brief in his communication. When he chose, he could go as
straight to the point as any one. He did not attempt to gloss over his
story, but put his cousin in possession of the facts pretty much as the
reader understands them.
It is doubtful if Mr. Bennett was much relieved by the communication.
Indeed, I think he would have preferred to have some pecuniary tangle
out of which to extricate his cousin. In fact, it was impossible for him
to suppress a feeling of contempt, not to say disgust, at Hiram's
conduct. For, worldly minded as he was, It was what he never would have
been guilty of. Indeed, it so happened that Mr. Bennett had actually
married his wife under circumstances quite similar, three months after
her father's failure, and one month after his death; so that where be
expected a fortune, he had taken a portionless wife and her widowed
mother. What is more, he did it cheerfully, and was, as he used to say,
the happiest fellow in the world in consequence. It would have been
singular, therefore, if while hearing Hiram's story he had not recurred
to his own history. In indulging his contempt for him, he unconsciously
practised an innocent self-flattery.
He did not immediately reply after Hiram concluded, but waited for this
feeling to subside, and for the old worldly leaven to work again.
'A nice mess you're in,' he said, at length, 'and all from not seeking
my advice in time. Do you know, Hiram, you made a great mistake in
giving up that girl? I'm not talking of any matter of affection or
sentiment or happiness, or about violating pledges and promises. That is
your own affair, and I've nothing to do with it. I have often told you
that you have much to learn yet, and here is a tremendous blunder to
prove it. The connection would have been as good as a hundred thousand
dollars cash capital, if the girl hadn't a cent. That clique is a
powerful one, and they all hang together. Mark my words: they won't let
the old man go under, and it would have been a fortune to you to have
stood by him. You've taken a country view of this business, Hiram. There
every man tries to pull his neighbor down. Here, we try to build one
another up.'
'You are doubtless correct,' replied Hiram, 'but the mischief is done,
and I want you to help me remedy it. If you can't aid me, nobody can.'
Mr. Bennett was not insensible to the compliment.
'Certainly, certainly,' he answered, 'you know you can count on me. I
have always told you that you could, and I meant what I said. But you
must permit me to point out your mistakes, and I tell you you should
have asked my advice in this affair.'
'Very true.'
'You think Dr. Chellis won't yield?'
'I am sure of it.'
Mr. Bennett sat fixed in thought for at least five minutes, during which
time, I am inclined to think, Hiram's countenance, could it have been
seen through the darkness, would have been a study for an artist. For it
doubtless exhibited (because it could _not_ be seen) his actual feelings
and anxieties. He was startled at last into an exclamation of fright by
receiving an unexpected slap on his shoulder, which came from Mr.
Bennett, who, rising at that moment, gave this as a token of having
arrived at a happy solution of the difficulty. In this respect he was as
abrupt as Dr. Chellis had been with his friend.
'The thing is settled. There is but one course to pursue, and you must
take it. I will explain when we can have more light on the subject, to
say nothing of our cup of tea.'
He rang the bell, the parlor was lighted, and tea served, when Mr.
Bennett again broke the silence.
'Hiram,' he said, abruptly, 'you must quit the Presbyterian church.'
Hiram's heart literally stopped beating. He turned deadly pale.
Mr. Bennett perceived it. 'Don't be frightened,' he said. 'You have made
a great mistake, and I would help you repair it. I repeat, you must quit
the Presbyterian church, and you must join ours. You must indeed,' he
continued, seeing Hiram look undecided.
'Does it teach the true salvation?' asked Hiram, doubtingly.
'How can you ask such a question?' replied Mr. Bennett, in a severe
tone; 'are we not in the apostolic line? Are not the ordinances
administered by a clergy whose succession has never been broken?
You--you Presbyterians, _may_ possibly be saved by the grace of God, but
you have really no church, no priesthood, no ordinances. We won't
discuss this. I will introduce you to our clergyman, and you shall
examine the subject for yourself. Perhaps you don't know it, Hiram, but
I have been confirmed; yes, I was confirmed last spring. When I had that
fit of sickness in the winter, I thought more about these matters than I
ever did before, and I came to the conclusion that it was my duty to be
confirmed. I have felt much more comfortable ever since, I assure you.
My wife, you know, is a strict churchwoman. She and you will agree first
rate if you come with us. For my part, I don't pretend to be so very
exact. I believe in the spirit more than the letter, and our clergyman
don't find any fault with me. What say you, will you call on him? If
yes, I will open up a little plan which I have this moment concocted for
your particular benefit. But you must first become a churchman.
Hiram sat stupefied, horrified, in a trance, in a maze. Cast loose from
his church, within whose pale he was accustomed to think salvation could
only be found, the possibility that there might be hope for him in
another quarter nearly took away his senses. He had been accustomed to
regard the Episcopalians as little better than Papists, and _they_ were
the veritable children of wrath. Could he have been mistaken? He was now
willing to hope so. It could certainly do no harm to confer with the
clergyman. He would hear what he had to say, and then judge for himself,
and so he told his cousin.
'All right; you talk like a sensible man. Now, Hiram, between us two, I
am going to find you a wife.'
Hiram started. His pulse began again to beat naturally.
'Yes, I have found you a wife, that is, if you will do as I advise you,
instead of following your own head. I tell you what it is, Hiram; you're
green in these matters.'
Hiram smiled an incredulous smile, and asked, in a tone which betrayed a
good deal of interest, 'Who is the young lady?'
'Never mind who she is until you come over to us. Then my wife shall
introduce you. But I'll tell you this much, Hiram: she has a clear two
hundred thousand dollars--no father, no mother, already of age, in our
first society, and very aristocratic.'
'Is she pious?' asked Hiram, eagerly.
'Excessively so. Fact is, she is the strictest young woman in the church
in--Lent. She belongs to all the charitable societies, and gives away I
don't know how much.'
'Humph,' responded Hiram. The last recommendation did not seem specially
to take with him. Still his eyes glistened at the recital. He could not
resist asking several questions about the young lady, but Mr. Bennett
was firm, and would not communicate further till Hiram's decision was
made.
Thus conversing, they fell into a pleasant mood, and so the evening wore
away. When Hiram rose to leave, he found it was nearly midnight. His
cousin insisted he should remain with him, and Hiram was glad to accept
the invitation. He did not feel like returning to his solitary room with
his mind unsettled and his feelings discomposed.
In a most confidential mood the two walked up stairs together, and Mr.
Bennett bade Hiram good night in a tone so cheerful that the latter
entered his room quite reassured. He proceeded, as was his habit, to
read a chapter in the Bible, but his teeth chattered when, on opening
the volume, he discovered it to be--the prayer book!--something he had
been accustomed to hold in utter abomination. He controlled his feelings
sufficiently to glance through the book, and at last, selecting a
chapter from the Psalter, he perused it and retired. He dreamed that he
was married to the rich girl, and had the two hundred thousand dollars
safe in his possession. And so real did this seem that he woke in the
morning greatly disappointed to find himself minus so respectable a sum.
'I must not lose the chance,' said Hiram to himself, as he jumped out of
bed. 'With that amount in cash I would teach all South street a lesson.
I wonder if this is the true church after all;' and he took up the
prayer book this time without fear, as if determined to find out.
He spent some time in reading the prayers, and confessed to himself that
they were quite unobjectionable. Mr. Bennett's warning that there was no
certainty of salvation, out of the _church_ (i.e. his church) was not
without its effect. As Hiram sought religion for the purpose of security
on the other side, you can readily suppose any question of the validity
of his title would make him very nervous; once convinced of his mistake,
he would hasten to another church, just as he would change his insurance
policies, when satisfied of the insolvency of the company which had
taken his risks.
After breakfast Hiram renewed the subject of the last night's
conversation, and Mr. Bennett was pleased to find that his views were
already undergoing a decided change.
'Now, Hiram,' he exclaimed, 'if you do come over to us, it's no reason
you should join _my_ church. You may not like our clergyman. You know,
when you first came to New York, I recommended you to join Dr. Pratt's
congregation instead of Dr. Chellis's; but you wanted severe preaching,
and you have had it. Now there are similar varieties among the
Episcopalians. Dr. Wing, though a strict churchman, will give you sharp
exercise, if you listen to him. He will handle you without gloves. He is
fond of using the sword of the spirit, and you had best stand from
under, or he will cleave you through and through. My clergyman, Mr.
Myrtle, is a very different man. He believes in the gospel as a message
of peace and love, and his sermons are beautiful. One feels so safe and
happy to hear him discourse of the mercy of God, and the joys of
heaven.'
'Nevertheless,' replied Hiram, stoutly, 'I hold to my old opinion, and I
confess I prefer such a preacher as Dr. Wing to one like Mr. Myrtle. But
under existing circumstances I shall go with you.'
He was thinking about the splendid match Mr. Bennett had hinted at.
'I am glad to hear you say so,' said Mr. Bennett; 'it will bring us more
frequently together. You have a brilliant future, if you will listen to
me; but it won't do to make another blunder, such as you have just
committed.'
'I suppose you will tell me now about that young lady?' asked Hiram,
with an interest he could not conceal.
'Not one word, not one syllable,' replied the other, good humoredly,
'until you are actually within the pale. Don't be alarmed,' he
continued, seeing Hiram look disappointed. 'To tell you would not do the
least good, and might frustrate my plans. But I will work the matter for
you, my boy, if it is a possible thing; and for my part I see no
difficulty in it. When my family come in town we will organize. Meantime
let me ask, have you learned to waltz?'
'To waltz?' exclaimed Hiram, in horror. 'No. I don't even know how to
_dance_; I was taught to believe it sinful. As to waltzing, how can you
ask me if I practise such a disgusting, such an immoral style of
performance, invented by infidel German students to give additional zest
to their orgies.'
'Did Dr. Chellis tell you that,' said Mr. Bennett, with something like a
sneer.
'No; I read it in the _Christian Herald_.'
'I thought so. Dr. Chellis has too much sense to utter such stuff.'
'Does Mr. Myrtle approve of waltzing?' inquired Hiram, with a groan.
'Hiram, don't be a goose. Of course, Mr. Myrtle does not exactly
_approve_ of it. That is, he don't waltz himself, his wife don't waltz,
and his children are not old enough; but he does not object to any
'rational amusement,' and he leaves his congregation to decide what _is_
rational.'
'Well, I shall not waltz, that's certain.'
'Yes you will, too. The girl you are to marry--the girl who has a clear
two hundred thousand in her own right--_she_ waltzes, and _you_ have got
to waltz.'
Hiram's head swam, as if already giddy in the revolving maze; but it was
the thought of the two hundred thousand dollars, nothing else, which
turned his brain. The color in his face went and came; he hesitated.
'I will think of it,' at last he ejaculated.
'Of course you will,' cried Mr. Bennett, 'of course you will, and decide
like a sensible man afterward, not like an idiot; but you must decide
quick, for I must put you in training for the fall campaign.'
'What do you mean?'
'Why, simply this; the girl will not look at you unless you are a
fashionable fellow--don't put on any more wry faces, but think of the
prize--and I must have you well up in all the accomplishments. For the
rest, you are what I call, a finely-formed, good-looking, and rather
graceful fellow, if you are my cousin.'
Hiram's features relaxed.
'When can I call on Mr. Myrtle?' he asked.
'Not for several weeks. He is taking a longer vacation than usual.
However, come with me every Sunday, and you will hear Mr. Strang, our
curate, who officiates in Mr. Myrtle's absence. A most excellent man,
and a very fair preacher.'
'Have you a Sunday school connected with the church?'
'Do you think we are heathen, Hiram? Have we a Sunday school? I should
suppose so! What is more, the future Mrs. Meeker is one of the
teachers,'
'Yet she waltzes?'
'Yet she waltzes.'
'Well, I hope I shall understand this better by and by.'
'Certainly you will.'
The two proceeded down town to their business.
* * * * *
In a very few days after, Hiram Meeker was the pupil--the private
pupil--of Signor Alberto, dancing master to _the_ aristocracy of the
town. [That is not what he called himself, but I wish to be
intelligible.] Alberto had directions to perfect his pupil in every step
practised in the world of fashion. Hiram proved an apt and ready
scholar. He gave this new branch of education the same care and
assiduity that he always practised in everything he undertook. Mr.
Bennett was not out of the way in praising his parts. Signor Alberto was
delighted with his pupil. His rapid progress was a source of great
pleasure to the master. To be sure, he could not get on quite as well as
if he had consented to go in with a class; but this Hiram would not
think of. Still the matter was managed without much difficulty, as the
Signor could always command supernumeraries.
When it came to the waltz, Alberto was kind enough to introduce to Hiram
a young lady--a friend of his--who, he said, was perfectly familiar with
every measure; and who would, as a particular favor, take the steps with
him, under the master's special direction. It took Hiram's breath away,
poor fellow, to be thrown so closely into the embraces of such a
fine-looking, and by no means diffident damsel. It was what he had not
been accustomed to. True, _he_ had been in the habit at one time of
playing the flirt, of holding the girls' hands in his, and pressing them
significantly, and sighing and talking sentimental nonsense; but here
the tables were turned. Hiram was the bashful one, and the young lady
apparently the flirt. She explained, with, tantalizing _nonchalance_,
how he ought to take a more encircling hold of her waist. She
illustrated _practically_ the different methods--close waltzing, medium
waltzing, and waltzing at arms' length. She would waltz light and
heavy--observing to Hiram that he might on some occasion have an awkward
partner, and it was well to be prepared.
To better explain, the young lady would become the gentleman; and in
whirling Hiram round, she exhibited a strength and vigor truly
astonishing.
All the while Hiram, with quick breath, and heightened color, and
whirling brain, was striving hard and failing fast to keep his wits
about him. What was most annoying of all, the young lady, though so
accommodating and familiar as a partner to practise with under the
master's eye, when the exercise was over appeared perfectly and
absolutely indifferent to Hiram. She was quite insensible to every
little byplay of his to attract her notice, which, as he advanced in her
acquaintance, he began to practice before the lesson commenced, or after
it was finished. The fact is, whoever or whatever she might be, she
evidently held Hiram in great contempt as a greenhorn. Strange to say,
for once all his powers of fascination failed; and the more he tried to
call them forth, the more signal was his discomfiture. It does not
appear that Hiram, after finishing his education with Signor Alberto,
attempted to continue his acquaintance with his partner in the waltz.
Once during the course he did ask the young lady where she lived, and
intimated that he would be pleased to call and see her; but the
observation was received with such evident signs of dissatisfaction,
that he never renewed the subject, and it is doubtful if he ever
explained to himself satisfactorily his failure to get in the good
graces of such a handsome girl and so perfect a waltzer.