EMBARRASSING INTERVIEWS.
My time passed in the usual daily routine of duties. About this time
Georgania returned to spend a few weeks at home. Though much improved in
personal appearance, she was far from being a pleasant companion. Her
manner, to me, was exceedingly haughty, almost contemptuous. She seemed
to have entirely forgotten my unwearied pains in laying the foundation
of her education. I could never understand the reason of her dislike to
me. The feeling must always have existed, though kept in check during
the time she had been my pupil. I think the rest of the family must have
noticed her unpleasant manner to me; and, I have no doubt, remonstrated
with her upon the subject. I was of a proud, sensitive nature, and the
many slights, in an indirect way, which I suffered from her roused my
indignation, and I was revolving the idea in my mind of seeking another
home, when an event occurred which caused my departure from the home of
the Leightons sooner than I anticipated. On the morning of the day of
which I speak, Laura was unable to get out, as she was suffering from a
cold. She was very anxious to execute some shopping that morning, and
asked me if I would undertake to make her purchases, as I knew exactly
what she wanted. I gladly assented, and, as I passed the sitting-room,
on my way up stairs, I heard Willie say,--
"I too have business up town, and I will drive Miss Roscom to the store
where she is to make her purchases, and call for her on my return."
Mrs. Leighton replied in a low, but changed voice,--
"Why not send James, the coachman; it is more proper."
I did not wait to hear Willie's reply, but, when I came down, prepared
for going out, the coachman was in waiting with the carriage. I was glad
that Willie was not to accompany me, for, since the evening he had
escorted me home, I had carefully avoided his society.
I was sitting that evening in the garden, in a kind of arbor, covered
with weeping-vines. I was deeply interested in the volume I held in my
hand, and was much surprised when Willie suddenly entered the arbor, and
took a seat by my side. I made a hasty movement to rise and leave the
arbor, when he addressed me saying,--
"Why is it, Miss Roscom, that you constantly avoid me, and treat me
with such marked coolness? I am sure I have not merited such treatment.
I have long sought an opportunity to speak with you alone, and now you
must hear me. Allow me to tell you that I have long loved you, with a
deep and true affection. Will you not become my wife, and thereby render
me the happiest of mortals?"
I was so much surprised by this unexpected declaration that it was some
moments before I could collect my thoughts sufficiently to reply. I at
length said,--
"Although deeply sensible of the honor you have done me, I must say in
reply, that I can never become your wife."
He regarded me with unfeigned surprise as he said,--
"Then you do not love me, Clara. I had hoped that I was not wholly
indifferent to you."
I replied,--
"As I believe you have addressed me with candor, I will answer you in
the same manner. I do love you; and, were I guided by my own heart in
the matter, my reply to your honorable proposal would have been
different. But there are insurmountable barriers to our union."
"Name them," was his reply.
"Mr. Leighton," I answered. "Whether or not you are aware of the fact,
that I am unable to say; but I _know_ that your family would never
consent to your marriage with their governess. They may respect and
treat me kindly in my present position, but would never be willing to
receive me as a daughter. It will, therefore, be wiser for you to place
your affections upon some one in your own position in life."
"Am I not," replied Willie, "free to follow my own wishes in the
matter? What care I for those butterflies of fashion, whose highest
enjoyment is to shine in the gay assembly or crowded ball room. My
heart's devotion must be given to one who possesses true nobility of
mind. Should my parents refuse their consent to our marriage, then shall
I feel justified in following the dictates of my own heart. I have never
disobeyed my parents, and have endeavored to be guided by their
counsels, but in this matter I must act in accordance with my own
affection and judgment. In everything except wealth you are my equal,
and I have enough for us both. Allow me to tell my parents that my
happiness rests upon their consent to our marriage; and, should they
withhold their consent, I will marry you and abide the consequences, for
I am certain they will soon be sensible of their error." Being anxious
to terminate the interview, I replied,--
"I must answer you, Mr. Leighton, in the manner which I consider will
be best for us both. Never will I consent to become the wife of any man,
and, by so doing, alienate him from his parents. I have experienced
nothing but kindness from all your family, and I cannot take a step
which will bring sorrow and disquiet into your heretofore happy home. Be
advised by me and never allude to this subject again. I can be your
friend, but not your wife. I intend, as soon as circumstances permit, to
seek another home. Remember me as a friend only, and whatever my own
feelings may be, I shall at least have the satisfaction of knowing that
I have acted wisely and for the best."
His countenance expressed extreme agitation, as, rising, he said,--
"You have made me very unhappy, Miss Roscom. I will remain silent for
the present; but go not away from here, as that would destroy my only
hope."
When I entered the house, I heard the excited voices of Mrs. Leighton,
Laura, and Georgania in the parlor. I heard Mrs. Leighton say, as I
passed the door of the parlor,--
"Are you sure, Georgania, that you understood aright?"
"Quite sure, mamma," she replied; "I plainly heard Willie ask her to
become his wife; how I _hate_ her; and the thought of Willie's loving
her almost causes me to hate him."
"Hush!" exclaimed Mrs. Leighton; "I will investigate this matter
myself."
I hurried up to my room. I knew there was trouble in store for me, and
I felt strong to meet it; for my own conscience acquitted me of any
wrong-doing. After some little time had passed, I heard the footsteps of
Mrs. Leighton ascending the stairs; and a moment after she rapped at my
door. I opened the door and invited her to enter, and be seated. She
then seated herself, and sat for some moments in silence. Her
countenance expressed both sorrow and anger, for, up to this time, I
believed that Mrs. Leighton had loved me. I waited for Mrs. Leighton to
open the subject, for I well knew what had brought her to my room, and I
cared not how soon she made known the object of her visit. At length she
said,--
"It seems to me, Miss Roscom, that you have rendered a very base return
for my kindness."
As she seemed waiting my reply, I said,--
"Will you have the goodness, Mrs. Leighton, to explain your words, for I
am unable to comprehend their meaning?"
Her voice expressed much displeasure as she answered:
"I was not aware that my words required any explanation; but, if they
do, it shall be given in few words. How dare you so far forget your own
position, and ours, as to entice my son into making a proposal of
marriage to one so much his inferior as you must know yourself to be?"
Should I live a hundred years I can never forget the shock her words
gave me. I fairly trembled with anger. Rising to my feet, I looked her
steadily in the face, as I said,--
"That your words are false, as well as heartless, I need not tell you,
as you are already aware of the fact. I appeal to you if I have ever in
any way courted the society of Willie. If he has asked me to become his
wife, is it through any fault of mine? But you need give yourself no
uneasiness upon the subject, for I have already told Willie that I will
never become the wife of any man whose friends would look upon me as
their inferior. For, though poor, and obliged to labor for my bread, I
possess a spirit equally proud with your own, and that spirit your
insulting words have roused. When you accuse me of enticing Willie into
making a proposal of marriage, you well know that your accusation is
false and without foundation."
"I suppose," said Mrs. Leighton, after a short silence, "that you will
see the propriety of seeking another home."
"You might," I replied, "have saved yourself the trouble of reminding me
of this, as I intend, this night, to leave your house. I intend to show
you that I shall prove no hindrance to your son's marrying in accordance
with your wishes. Allow me to express my heart-felt thanks for your past
kindness to me; but we must now part."
Mrs. Leighton's anger, by this time, was beginning to cool.
"I am perfectly willing," said she, "that you should remain here till
you can obtain another situation. When I spoke of your seeking another
home, I wished not that you should understand that I wished you to leave
immediately."
I thanked her, but said "I preferred going at once."
She enquired whither I intended going? I replied that there were several
families residing in the city who had known and loved my mother, who
would gladly shelter her orphan daughter.
Mrs. Leighton owed me, at the time, one hundred dollars of my salary;
as I had not required the money, I had left it in her hands. Leaving the
room, she soon returned with the money in her hand, and pressed me to
accept of fifty dollars over and above what was owing me. I thanked her,
but said I wished to accept only of what was my just due. As she refused
to receive back the money, I laid it upon the table, and began making my
preparations for leaving her house. In less than an hour my trunks were
packed, and I was ready to go. Laura and Georgania, I think purposely
avoided me, for I did not see them before leaving. I felt grieved when I
parted with Birdie and Lewis, for I had become strongly attached to
them. Lewis used often to say that boys never ought to cry; crying, he
said, was only for girls and babies; but he must have forgotten himself
on this occasion, for he cried bitterly when I bade him good-bye. As I
turned from my pupils, Mrs. Leighton came forward and extended her hand
to me. I could not refuse the hand that had so often administered to the
wants of my dying mother. Neither of us uttered a word. We shook hands
in silence, and I passed from the house, and entered the carriage which
was in waiting for me. There was a family by the name of Burnside, with
whom I had been intimate from childhood; to them I intended going, and
in a few minutes I was set down at their door.
It chanced to be Mrs. Burnside herself who answered my ring at the
door. In a few brief words I informed her of the circumstances which had
caused me to leave Mrs. Leighton so suddenly; at the same time, asking
her if she was willing to afford me a home for a short time, till I
could obtain another situation?
"My dear Clara," she replied, "to my home you are freely welcome for any
length of time you may wish to remain. To-morrow we will talk further of
the matter, but not another word to-night, for you look very much
fatigued."
The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Burnside, and an aunt of Mrs.
Burnside's, who resided with them. They had two daughters, but they had
both married and removed a long distance from their early home. Mrs.
Burnside offered to conduct me to my room, which offer I gladly
accepted, for I wished to be alone. The excitement which had sustained
me through the events of the past few hours had now subsided; and, when
left alone in my room, I sat down to reflect calmly upon my situation. I
could not but feel justified in the step I had taken; but I could not
avoid a feeling of uneasiness when I reflected that I was now homeless.
I did not wish to remain long with Mrs. Burnside, as I well knew they
would accept of no compensation from me; and, for that reason, I felt
the necessity of obtaining another situation as soon as possible; but I
could come to no decision till after conversing with Mrs. Burnside upon
the subject. After kneeling and imploring the protection and guidance of
my Heavenly Father, I retired to rest, and, as I was worn out by the
exciting events of the evening, sleep soon furnished a welcome relief
from all anxious thoughts.
I was greeted kindly by Mr. and Mrs. Burnside the next morning, when we
met at the breakfast table. The aunt, being somewhat of an invalid, did
not usually take her morning meal with the family. The only allusion to
my circumstances was made by Mr. Burnside, who said I had better defer
any conversation upon the subject for the present, and that, in the
meantime, he wished me to consider his house as my home.
About eleven o'clock that morning, as I was sitting in the room with
Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Burnside's aunt, the servant came up to inform me
that a young gentleman was in the parlor, who wished to see me. Looking
at the card which the girl handed me, I read the name of Willie
Leighton. I was sorry to wound his feelings; but, when I left their
dwelling, I firmly resolved that I would never intentionally meet with
Willie again. I therefore requested the servant to inform Mr. Leighton
that I was engaged. It was no easy matter for me to send this message to
_him_; but my pride sustained me.
Two or three weeks passed quietly away. During this time, Birdie and
Lewis twice came to see me, but whether by permission or by stealth I
could not determine, and I would not enquire. Willie called repeatedly,
but I never granted him an interview, as I deemed it best for both that
we should not meet.
I shall never cease to remember with gratitude the kindness I received
from Mr. and Mrs. Burnside, and, as I wished not to abuse their
hospitality, I thought it advisable, when some two months had passed
away, to devise some means of earning my own support. They would have
assisted me in obtaining a situation in Philadelphia; but I wished to
leave my native city, and see if new scenes and new friends would not
have a beneficial effect upon my mind. I had now no remaining tie to
bind me to Philadelphia. I grieved, it is true, at the thought of
leaving the place which contained the graves of my parents.
Nevertheless, I felt myself to be in the path of duty, while preparing
to leave my native city.