Jamie took his place on the high stool behind the great ledgers of the
Old Colony Bank, and the house on Worcester Square was even bought,
with his savings and the price of the house on Salem Street. Only one
thing Jamie flatly refused, and that was to permit Mercedes' marriage
until St. Clair had some visible means of support. She pouted at this
and was cruel; but for once the old clerk was inflexible, even to her.
Mercedes would perhaps have married against his will, but Mr. St.
Clair had his reason for submitting.
And that gentleman was particular in his choice of occupation, and
Mercedes yet more particular for him. The class of which St. Clair
came is a peculiar one, hardly known to the respectable world, less
known then than now; and yet it has often money, kindliness,
reputability even, among its members: they marry and have children
among their own class; they are not church-going, but yet they are not
criminal. As actor families maintain themselves for many generations
(not the stars, but the ordinary histrionic families; you will find
most of the names on the playbills to-day that were there in the last
century, neither above nor below their old position), so there are
sporting families who live in a queer, not unprosperous world of their
own, marry and bring up children, and leave money and friends behind
them when they die. And Sinclair came of people such as these. "St.
Clair" was his own invention. Of course Jamie did not know it, nor did
Mercedes; and in fact he was honestly in love with her, to the point
of changing his way of life to one of routine and drudgery.
But no place could be found (save, indeed, a retail grocer's
clerkship), and Mercedes began to grow worried, and occasionally to
cry. St. Clair spent his evenings at the house; and at such times
Jamie would wander helplessly about the streets. St. Clair's one idea
was to be employed about the bank, to become a banker. Had he been
competent to keep the books, I doubt not Jamie would have given them
up to him.
Great is the power of persuasion backed by love, even in a bent old
Scotchman. Will it be believed, Jamie teased and schemed and promoted
until he made a vacancy of the place of messenger, and got it for his
son-in-law. Perhaps old Mr. Bowdoin had ever had a slight feeling of
remorse since he had seen nipped in the bud that affair with young
Harleston. He did not approve of the present match. Yet he fancied the
bridegroom might be a safer spouse with a regular occupation and a
coat more threadbare than he habitually wore.
Nothing now stood in the way of the marriage; and it took place with
some _éclat_,--in King's Chapel, indeed, with all the Bowdoins, even
to Mrs. Abby. Jamie gave the bride away. Hughson (to Mercedes'
relief) took it a bit rusty and would not come. Then the pair went on
a wedding journey to Niagara and Trenton Falls; and old Jamie, the day
after the ceremony, came down looking happier than he had seemed for
years. There was a light in his lonely old face; it comes rarely to us
on earth, but, by one who sees it, it is not forgotten. Old Mr.
Bowdoin saw it; and, remembering that interview scarce two years gone
by, his nose tingled. It is rare that natures with such happy lives as
his are so "dowered with the love of love." But when old Jamie looked
at him, he but asked some business question; and Jamie marveled that
the old gentleman blew his nose so hard and damned the weather so
vigorously.
When the St. Clairs came back, Jamie moved to an upper back room, and
gave them the rest of the new house. Mercedes was devotedly in love
with her husband. She would have liked to meet people, if but to show
him to them. But she knew no one worthy save the Bowdoins, and they
did not get on with him. His own social acquaintance, of which he had
boasted somewhat, appeared to be in other cities. And _ennui_ (which
causes more harm in the world than many a more evil passion) began
imperceptibly to take possession of him.
However, they continued to live on together. St. Clair was fairly
regular at his work; and all went well for more than a year.