IN WHICH SHEPPARD LEE VISITS MR. PERIWINKLE SMITH AND HIS FAIR
DAUGHTER, AND IS INTRUSTED WITH A SECRET WHICH BOTH ASTONISHES AND
AFFLICTS HIM.
I pulled the bell with a most dignified jerk, and asked for Mr.
Smith. But the servant, who grinned with approbation as at an old
acquaintance, and doubtless considered that he knew more about the
matter than myself, as Philadelphia servants usually do, ushered me
into the presence of Mr. Smith's fair daughter.
"Ah!" said I to myself, as I cast my eye around the apartment, and saw
that her levee consisted of but a single beau--a stranger whom I did
not know, but who, I learned afterward, was a young millionaire from
Boston--"the world begins to suspect the mortgages, and friends are
falling away. Poor dear Miss Smith!"--And I felt great compassion for
her.
She seemed somewhat surprised at my appearance, and I thought she
looked confused. She was a marvellous fine creature, and I was quite
sorry she was not rich.
I saw she had a sneaking kindness for me yet; but it was not right to
encourage her. I hastened, therefore, to express my thanks for the
sympathy which I had been informed she had bestowed on me, on the
memorable occasion of my dip in the Schuylkill; and regretted that the
indisposition consequent upon that disaster had prevented my calling
earlier. I had not met the fair lady at Mrs. Pickup's or the Misses
Oldstyle's, or at the other two place where I had figured during the
last four evenings; and although it was highly probable she knew my
indisposition had not prevented my going to these places, yet my not
seeing her made the excuse perfectly genteel and fair. Yet she looked
at me intently--I thought sadly and reproachfully--for a moment, and
then, recovering herself, expressed her pleasure to see me so well
restored, and ended, with great self-possession, by presenting me to
her new admirer. After this her manner was cooler, and I thought her
pique rendered her a little neglectful. It was certain she wished
me to observe that she had a high opinion of the new Philander; a
circumstance to which I was not so indifferent as I ought to have
been. But, in truth, she was an elegant soul, and the more I looked at
her the more I regretted she was not a fortune. I felt myself growing
sentimental, and, to check the feeling, I resolved to proceed to
business.
I had no sooner asked after the old gentleman, and expressed a desire
to see him, than she gave me a look that bewildered me. It expressed
surprise and inquiry, mingled with what I should have fancied contempt,
could I have believed anybody could entertain such a feeling for me.
She rang the bell, ordered my desire to be conveyed to her father, and
in a few moments I was requested to walk up stairs to his study, where
I found him in company with a gentleman of the law and a broker, whose
face I knew, and surrounded with papers.
"Ah!" said I to myself, "things are now coming to a crisis; he is
making an assignment."
The gentleman of the law and the broker took their departure, and Mr.
Periwinkle Smith gave me a hard look. I began to suspect what he was
thinking of; he was perhaps looking for me to make a declaration in
relation to his fair daughter.
That he might not be troubled with such expectation long, I instantly
opened my business, and gave him to understand I came to make proposals
(he opened his eyes and grinned) for his house (he looked astounded),
which, I had heard, he was about to dispose of.
"Indeed!" said he, and then fell to musing a while. "Pray, Mr. Dawkins,"
said he, "who sent you upon this wise errand?"
I did not like his tone, but I answered I came on the part of my uncle,
Samuel Wilkins, of Wilkinsbury Hall--for I thought it as well to make
my kinsman's name sound lordly.
"Very good," said he; "but what made you suppose I intended to sell my
property?"
I liked this question still less than the other, and mumbled
out something about common report, "and the general talk of my
acquaintance."
"Ah!" said he, "now I understand," giving me a grin which I did not.
"Let us be frank with one another. There was something said about
'mortgages,' was there not?--a heavy weight on my poor estate?"
Thinking it was useless to mince the matter, I acknowledged that such
was the report.
"And it is from the influence of that report I am to understand some
of the peculiarities of your--that is to say, it is to that I am to
attribute your present application? Really, Mr. Dawkins, I am afraid I
can't oblige you; my house I like very well, and--But I'll admit you
to a little secret;" and smiling with great suavity, he laid his hand
on a pile of papers. "Here," said he, "are mortgages, and other bonds,
to the amount of some seventy thousand dollars; they are my property,
and not mortgages on my property. The truth is (and, as you are an old
friend, I don't scruple to tell you), that having a little loose cash
which I did not know what to do with, I took the advice of a friend,
and invested it in the form in which you now see it, and I believe it
is very safe. The story of the mortgages was quite true, only it was
told the wrong way."
I was petrified, and stood staring on the old gentleman with awe and
amazement.
"Some people," said he, very good-naturedly, "might doubt the
propriety, and even the honourableness, of a private gentleman
investing money in this way; but stocks are at a high premium, and many
unsafe, and money can't lie idle:--I hope you are satisfied: I am quite
sorry I can't oblige your uncle. My house, as I said, I like extremely
well; and I have, besides, promised it as a wedding-present to my
daughter."
Oh, ye gods of Greece and Rome! a wedding-present to his daughter! I
resolved to make her a proposal without delay, and I thought I might as
well break matters to the old gentleman.
"Your daughter," said I, "your beloved and excellent daughter--"
"Will doubtless always be happy to welcome her old friend and admirer,
Mr. Dawkins," said he; and I thought he looked beautiful--though
I never thought so before. He could not have spoken more plainly,
I thought, if he had said "marry her," at once. I took my leave,
intending to make love to her on the spot.
"I will have the pleasure to see you to the door," said the old
gentleman, and to the door he _did_ see me. I do not well know how it
happened; but instead of entering the parlour again, I found myself led
to the front door by the courteous Mr. Smith, and bowed handsomely out,
to the great satisfaction of my cousin Sammy, who regarded proceedings
from the carriage window.
"Good morning," said Mr. Periwinkle Smith; "I can't sell my daughter's
house, but I should be glad to have you for a neighbour; and, now I
recollect it, there's Higginson the brewer's house over the way there
advertised for sale, and I am told it is very well finished."
"So am _I_," said I to myself, as the door closed on my face--"finished
unutterably." It occurred to me I was turned out of the house; and
the suspicion was soon very perfectly confirmed. I called on the fair
Miss Smith the next day, and, though I saw her by accident through the
window, I was met by the cursed fib--"not at home." The same thing
was told me seven days in succession, and on the eighth I saw, to my
eternal wo and despair, her marriage with my Boston rival announced in
the papers. He lives in Philadelphia, and can confirm my story. But
this is anticipating my narrative.
"I say, Dawkins," cried my cousin Sammy (I had cured him of the vulgar
'Ikey'), "what does the old codger say?"
These words, bawled by the rustic from the carriage window, woke me
from a trance into which I had fallen, the moment Mr. Periwinkle Smith
shut the door in my face.
"Didn't he say there was a house over the way?"
I remembered the words,--my own house for sale! I knew it well; it
was just the thing wanted,--an elegant house, provided genteel people
were in it. I was on the point of running over and securing it, when I
remembered Mrs. Higginson. A cold sweat bedewed my limbs. "No!" said I,
"I will go to Tim Doolittle--I can face _him_."
To make matters short--for I have a long story to tell--I drove up to
Higginson's brewery (it is now Doolittle and Snagg's, or was, when
I heard last of it), saw my late brother-in-law, whom I thought a
very plebeian body, and made such progress with him, that in three
days' time (for my Margaret had gone to mourn in the country) the
house changed owners, and my uncle Wilkins marched into it as master,
followed by Sammy and Pattie.