MONTHS elapsed before Edwin Florence ventured again into company.
"Why will you shut yourself up after this fashion?" said an
acquaintance to him one day. "It isn't just to your friends. I've
heard half a dozen persons asking for you lately. This hermit life
you are leading is, let me tell you, a very foolish life."
The friend who thus spoke knew nothing of the young man's heart
history.
"No one really misses me," said Florence, in reply.
"In that you are mistaken," returned the friend. "You are missed. I
have heard one young lady, at least, ask for you of late, more than
a dozen times."
"Indeed! A _young_ lady?"
"Yes; and a very beautiful young lady at that."
"In whose eyes can I have found such favor?"
"You have met Miss Clara Weldon?"
"Only once."
"But once!"
"That is all."
"Then it must be a case of love at first sight--at least on the
lady's part--for Miss Weldon has asked for you, to my knowledge, not
less than a dozen times."
"I am certainly flattered at the interest she takes in me."
"Well you may be. I know more than one young man who would sacrifice
a good deal to find equal favor in her eyes. Now see what you have
lost by this hiding of your countenance. And you are not the only
loser."
Florence, who was more pleased at what he heard than he would like
to have acknowledged, promised to come forth from his hiding place
and meet the world in a better spirit. And he did so; being really
drawn back into the social circle by the attraction of Miss Weldon.
At his second meeting with this young lady he was still more charmed
with her than at first; and she was equally well pleased with him. A
few more interviews, and both their hearts were deeply interested.
Now there came a new cause of disquietude to Edwin; or, it might be
said, the old cause renewed. The going out of his affections towards
Miss Weldon revived the whole memory of the past; and, for a time he
found it almost impossible to thrust it from his mind. While sitting
by her side and listening to her voice, the tones of Edith would be
in his ears; and, often, when he looked into her face he would see
only the fading countenance of her who had passed away. This was the
first state, and it was exceedingly painful while it lasted. But, it
gradually changed into one more pleasant, yet not entirely free from
the unwelcome intrusion of the past.
The oftener Florence and Miss Weldon met, the more strongly were
their hearts drawn toward each other; and, at length, the former was
encouraged to make an offer of his hand. In coming to this
resolutions, it was not without passing through a painful conflict.
As his mind dwelt upon the subject, there was a reproduction of old
states. Most vividly did he recall the time when he breathed into
the ears of Edith vows to which he had proved faithless. He had, it
is true, returned to his first allegiance. He had laid his heart
again at her feet; but, to how little purpose! While in this state
of agitation, the young man resolved, more than once, to abandon his
suit for the hand of Miss Weldon, and shrink back again into the
seclusion from which he had come forth. But, his affection for the
lovely girl was too genuine to admit of this. When he thought of
giving her up, his mind was still more deeply disturbed.
"Oh, that I could forget!" he exclaimed, while this struggle was in
progress. "Of what avail is this turning over of the leaves of a
long passed history? I erred--sadly erred! But repentance is now too
late. Why, then should my whole existence be cursed for a single
error? Ah, me! thou not satisfied, departed one? Is it, indeed, from
the presence of thy spirit that I am troubled? My heart sinks at the
thought. But no, no! Thou wert too good to visit pain upon any; much
less upon one who, thou false to thee, thou didst so tenderly love."
But, upon this state there came a natural re-action. A peaceful calm
succeeded the storm. Memory deposited her records in the mind's
dimly lighted chambers. To the present was restored its better
influences.
"I am free again," was the almost audible utterance, of the young
man, so strong was his sense of relief.
An offer of marriage was then made to Miss Weldon. Her heart
trembled with joy when she received it. But confiding implicitly in
her uncle, who had been for the space of ten years her friend and
guardian, she could not give an affirmative reply until his approval
was gained. She, therefore, asked time for reflection and
consultation with her friend.
Far different from what Florence had expected, was the reception of
his offer. To him, Miss Weldon seemed instantly to grow cold and
reserved. Vividly was now recalled his rejection by Miss Linmore, as
well as the ground of her rejection.
"Is this to be gone over again?" he sighed to himself, when alone
once more, "Is that one false step never to be forgotten nor
forgiven? Am I to be followed, through life, by this shadow of
evil?"
To no other cause than this could the mind of Florence attribute the
apparent change and hesitation in Clara Weldon.
Immediately on receiving an offer of marriage, Miss Weldon returned
to Albany. Before leaving, she dropped Florence a note, to the
effect, that he should hear from her in a few days. A week passed,
but the promised word came not. It was, now plain that the friends
of the young lady had been making inquiries about him, and were in
possession of certain facts in his life, which, if known, would
almost certainly blast his hopes of favor in her eyes. While in this
state of uncertainty, he met the aunt of Edith, and the way she
looked at him, satisfied his mind that his conjectures were true. A
little while after a friend remarked to him casually--
"I saw Colonel Richards in town to-day."
"Colonel Richards! Miss Weldon's uncle?"
"Yes. Have you seen him?"
"No. I have not the pleasure of an acquaintance."
"Indeed! I thought you knew him. I heard him mention your name this
morning."
"My name!"
"Yes."
"What had he to say of me?"
"Let me think. Oh! He asked me if I knew you."
"Well?"
"I said that I did, of course and that you were a pretty clever
fellow; though you had been a sad boy in your time."
The face of Florence instantly reddened.
"Why, what's the matter? Oh I understand now! That little niece of
his is one of your flames. But come! Don't take it so to heart. Your
chances are one in ten, I have no doubt. By the way, I haven't seen
Clara for a week. What has become of her? Gone back to Albany, I
suppose. I hope you haven't frightened her with an offer. By the
way, let me whisper a word of comfort in your ear. I heard her say
that she didn't believe in any thing but first love; and, as you are
known to have had half a dozen sweethearts, more or less, and to
have broken the hearts of two or three young ladies, the probability
is, that you won't be able to add her to tie number of your lady
loves."
All this was mere jesting; but the words, though uttered in jest,
fell upon the ears of Edwin Florence with all the force of truth.
"Guilty, on your own acknowledgment," said the friend, seeing the
effect of his words. "Better always to act fairly in these matters
of the heart, Florence. If we sow the wind, we will be pretty sure
to reap the whirlwind. But come; let me take you down to the
Tremont, and introduce you to Colonel Richards. I know he will be
glad to make your acquaintance, and will, most probably, give you an
invitation to go home with him and spend a week. You can then make
all fair with his pretty niece."
"I have no wish to make his acquaintance just at this time,"
returned Florence; "nor do I suppose he cares about making mine,
particularly after the high opinion you gave him of my character."
"Nonsense, Edwin! You don't suppose I said that to him. Can't you
take a joke?"
"Oh, yes; I can take a joke."
"Take that as one, then. Colonel Richards did ask for you, however;
and said that he would like to meet you. He was serious. So come
along, and let me introduce you."
"No; I would prefer not meeting with him at this time."
"You are a strange individual."
The young men parted; Florence to feel more disquieted than ever.
Colonel Richards had been inquiring about him, and, in prosecuting
his inquiries, would, most likely, find some one inclined to relate
the story of Edith Walter. What was more natural? That story once in
the ears of Clara, and he felt that she must turn from him with a
feeling of repulsion.
Three or four days longer he was in suspense. He heard of Col.
Richards from several quarters, and, in each case when he was
mentioned, he was alluded to as making inquiries about him.
"I hear that the beautiful Miss Weldon is to be married," was said
to Florence at a time when he was almost mad with the excitement of
suspense.
"Ah!" he replied, with forced calmness, "I hope she will be
successful in securing a good husband."
"So do I; for she is indeed a sweet girl. I was more than half
inclined to fall in love with her myself; and would leave done so,
if I had believed there was any chance for me."
"Who is the favored one?" asked Florence.
"I have not been able to find out. She received three or four
offers, and went back to Albany to consider them and make her
election. This she has done, I hear; and already, the happy
recipient of her favor is rejoicing over his good fortune. May they
live a thousand years to be happy with each other!"
Here was another drop of bitterness in the cup that was at the lips
of Edwin Florence. He went to his office immediately, and, setting
down, wrote thus to Clara:
"I do not wrongly interpret, I presume, a silence continued far
beyond the time agreed upon when we parted. You have rejected my
suit. Well, be it so; and may you be happy with him who has found
favor in your eyes. I do not think he can love you more sincerely
than I do, or be more devoted to your happiness than I should have
been. It would have relieved the pain I cannot but feel, if you had
deemed my offer worthy a frank refusal. But, to feel that one I have
so truly loved does not think me even deserving of this attention,
is humiliating in the extreme. But, I will not upbraid you.
Farewell! May you be happy."
Sealing Up his epistle, the young man, scarcely pausing even for
hurried reflection, threw it into the post office. This done, he
sunk into a gloomy state of mind, in which mortification and
disappointment struggled alternately for the predominance.
Only a few hours elapsed after the adoption of this hasty course,
before doubts of its propriety began to steal across his mind. It
was possible, it occurred to him, that he might have acted too
precipitately. There might be reasons for the silence of Miss Weldon
entirely separate from those he had been too ready to assume; and,
if so, how strange would his letter appear. It was too late now to
recall the act, for already the mail that bore his letter was half
way from New York to Albany. A restless night succeeded to this day.
Early on the next morning he received a letter. It was in these
words--
"MY DEAR MR. FLORENCE:--I have been very ill, and to-day am able to
sit up just long enough to write a line or two. My uncle was in New
York some days ago, but did not meet with you. Will you not come up
and see me?
"Ever Yours, CLARA WELDON."
Florence was on board the next boat that left New York for Albany.
The letter of Clara was, of course, written before the receipt of
his hasty epistle. What troubled him now was the effect of this
epistle on her mind. He had not only wrongly interpreted her
silence, but had assumed the acceptance of another lover as
confidently as if he knew to an certainty that such was the case.
This was a serious matter and might result in the very thing he had
been so ready to assume--the rejection of his suit.
Arriving at length, in Albany, Mr. Florence sought out the residence
of Miss Weldon.
"Is Colonel Richards at home?" he inquired.
On being answered in the affirmative he sent up his name, with a
request to see him. The colonel made his appearance in short time.
He was a tall, thoughtful looking man, and bowed with a dignified
air as he came into the room.
"How is Miss Weldon?" asked Florence, with an eagerness he could not
restrain.
"Not so well this morning," replied the guardian. "She had a bad
night."
"No wonder," thought the young man, "after receiving that letter."
"She has been sleeping, however since daylight," added Colonel
Richards, "and that is much in her favor."
"She received my letter, I presume," said Florence, in a hesitating
voice.
"A letter came for her yesterday," was replied; "but as she was more
indisposed than usual, we did not give it to her."
"It is as well," said the young man, experiencing a sense of relief.
An hour afterwards he was permitted to enter the chamber, where she
lay supported by pillows. One glance at her face dispelled from his
mind every lingering doubt. He had suffered from imaginary fears,
awakened by the whispers of a troubled conscience.