suggesting to you how to receive him." They had now come out into the
veranda, and Maitland immediately led Laura up to Pyam Dodge, who bowed
profoundly on being introduced to him, and then turned to our heroine,
asked permission to shake hands with her, hoped his company would be
found agreeable, and signified that he had been unable to learn where
she was from Mr. Brantley's servants; but that the evening before, a
gentleman of Boston had told him that Mr. Brantley and all the family
were at Nahant. Therefore, he had come thither to-day purposely to see
her, and to inform her that the summer vacation having commenced, he was
going to pay a visit to his old friends at Rosebrook, and would be very
thankful if she would honour him with a letter or message to her family.
All this was said with much bowing, and prosing, and apologizing. When
it was finished, Maitland invited Pyam Dodge to take a turn round the
veranda with Miss Lovel and himself, and the poor schoolmaster expressed
the most profound gratitude. When they were going to dinner, Aubrey
introduced him to Mrs. Maitland, placed him next to himself at table,
and engaged him in a conversation on the Greek classics, in which Pyam
Dodge, finding himself precisely in his element, forgot his humility,
and being less embarrassed, was therefore less awkward and absurd than
usual.
Laura Lovel had thought Aubrey Maitland the handsomest and most elegant
young man she had ever seen. She now thought him the most amiable.
In the afternoon, there was a mirage, in which the far-off rocks in the
vicinity of Marblehead appeared almost in the immediate neighbourhood of
Nahant, coming out in full relief, their forms and colours well-defined,
and their height and breadth seemingly much increased. While all the
company were assembled to look at this singular optical phenomenon
(Aubrey Maitland being earnestly engaged in explaining it to our
heroine), Miss Frampton whispered to Laura that she wished particularly
to speak with her, and accordingly drew her away to another part of the
veranda.
Laura turned pale, for she had a presentiment of what was coming. Miss
Frampton then told her, that presuming she had heard from home, she
concluded that it would, of course, be convenient to return the trifle
she had lent her; adding, that she wished to give a small commission to
a lady that was going to town the next morning.
Poor Laura knew not what to say. She changed colour, trembled with
nervous agitation, and at last faltered out that, in consequence of
knowing her father was from home, she had not yet written to him on the
subject, but that she would do so immediately, and hoped Miss Frampton
would not find it very inconvenient to wait a few days.
"Why, really, I don't know how I can," replied Miss Frampton; "I want a
shawl exactly like Mrs. Horton's. She tells me they are only to be had
at one store in Boston, and that when she got hers the other day, there
were only two left. They are really quite a new style, strange as it is
to see anything in Boston that is not quite old-fashioned in
Philadelphia. The money I lent you is precisely the sum for this
purpose. Of course, I am in no want of a shawl--thank Heaven, I have
more than I know what to do with--but, as I told you, these are quite a
new style--"
"Oh! how gladly would I pay you, if I could!" exclaimed Laura, covering
her face with her hands. "What would I give at this moment for
twenty-five dollars!"
"I hope I am not inconvenient," said the voice of Pyam Dodge, close at
Laura's back; "but I have been looking for Miss Laura Lovel, that I may
take my leave, and return to town in the next boat."
Miss Frampton tossed her head and walked away, to tell Mrs. Horton,
confidentially, that Miss Lovel had borrowed twenty-five dollars of her
to buy finery; but not to add that she had just been asking her for
payment.
"If I may venture to use such freedom," pursued Pyam Dodge, "I think,
Miss Laura Lovel, I overheard you just now grieving that you could not
pay some money. Now, my good child (if you will forgive me for calling
you so), why should you be at any loss for money, when I have just
received my quarter's salary, and when I have more about me than I know
what to do with? I heard you mention twenty-five dollars--here it is
(taking some notes out of an enormous pocket-book), and if you want any
more, as I hope you do--"
"Oh! no, indeed--no," interrupted Laura. "I cannot take it; I would not
on any consideration."
"I know too well," continued Pyam Dodge, "I am not worthy to offer it,
and I hope I am not making myself disagreeable. But if, Miss Laura
Lovel, you would only have the goodness to accept it, you may be sure I
will never ask you for it as long as I live. I would even take a
book-oath not to do so."
Laura steadily refused the proffered kindness of the poor schoolmaster,
and begged Pyam Dodge to mention the subject to her no more. She told
him that all she now wished was to go home, and that she would write by
him to her family, begging that her father would come for her (as he had
promised at parting) and take her back to Rosebrook, as soon as he
could. She quitted Pyam Dodge, who was evidently much mortified, and
retired to write her letter, which she gave to him as soon as it was
finished, finding him in the hall taking a ceremonious leave of the
Maitlands. He departed, and Laura's spirits were gradually revived
during the evening by the gratifying attentions and agreeable
conversation of Mrs. Maitland and her son.
When our heroine retired for the night, she found on her table a letter
in a singularly uncouth hand, if hand it could be called, where every
word was differently written. It enclosed two ten dollar notes and a
five, and was conceived in the following words:
"This is to inform Miss Laura, eldest daughter of the Reverend Edward
Lovel, of Rosebrook, Massachusetts, that an unknown friend of hers,
whose name it will be impossible for her to guess (and therefore to make
the attempt will doubtless be entire loss of time, and time is always
precious), having accidentally heard (though by what means is a profound
secret) that she, at this present time, is in some little difficulty for
want of a small sum of money, he, therefore, this unknown friend, offers
to her acceptance the before-mentioned sum, hoping that she will find
nothing disgusting in his using so great a liberty."
"Oh! poor Pyam Dodge!" exclaimed Laura, "why did you take the trouble to
disguise and disfigure your excellent handwriting?" And she felt, after
all, what a relief it was to transfer her debt from Miss Frampton to the
good schoolmaster. Reluctant to have any further personal discussion on
this painful subject, she enclosed the notes in a short billet to Miss
Frampton, and sent it immediately to that lady's apartment. She then
went to bed, comparatively happy, slept soundly, and dreamed of Aubrey
Maitland.
About the end of the week, Laura Lovel was delighted to see her father
arrive with Mr. Brantley. As soon as they were alone, she threw herself
into his arms, and with a flood of tears explained to him the
particulars of all that passed since she left home, and deeply lamented
that she had allowed herself to be drawn into expenses beyond her means
of defraying, and which her father could ill afford to supply, to say
nothing of the pain and mortification they had occasioned to herself.
"My beloved child," said Mr. Lovel, "I have been much to blame for
intrusting you at an age so early and inexperienced, and with no
knowledge of a town-life and its habits, to the guidance and example of
a family of whom I knew nothing, except that they were reputable and
opulent."
Mr. Lovel then gave his daughter the agreeable intelligence that the
tract of land which was the object of his visit to Maine, and which had
been left him in his youth by an old aunt, and was then considered of
little or no account, had greatly increased in value by a new and
flourishing town having sprung up in its immediate vicinity. This tract
he had recently been able to sell for ten thousand dollars, and the
interest of that sum would now make a most acceptable addition to his
little income.
He also informed her that Pyam Dodge was then at the village of
Rosebrook, where he was "visiting round," as he called it, and that the
good schoolmaster had faithfully kept the secret of the twenty-five
dollars which he had pressed upon Laura, and which Mr. Lovel had now
heard, for the first time, from herself.
While this conversation was going on between the father and daughter,
Mrs. Maitland and her son were engaged in discussing the beauty and the
apparent merits of our heroine. "I should like extremely," said Mrs.
Maitland, "to invite Miss Lovel to pass the winter with me. But, you
know, we live much in the world, and I fear the limited state of her
father's finances could not allow her to appear as she would wish. Yet,
perhaps, I might manage to assist her in that respect, without wounding
her delicacy. I think with regret of so fair a flower being 'born to
blush unseen, and waste its sweetness on the desert air.'"
"There is one way," said Aubrey Maitland, smiling and colouring, "by
which we might have Miss Lovel to spend next winter in Boston, without
any danger of offending her delicacy, or subjecting her to embarrassment
on account of her personal expenses--a way which would enable her to
appear as she deserves, and to move in a sphere that she is so well
calculated to adorn, though not as _Miss Lovel_."
"I cannot but understand you, Aubrey," replied Mrs. Maitland, who had
always been not only the mother, but the sympathizing and confidential
friend of her son--"yet be not too precipitate. Know more of this young
lady, before you go so far that you cannot in honour recede."
"I know her sufficiently," said Aubrey, with animation. "She is to be
understood at once, and though I flatter myself that I may have already
excited some interest in her heart, yet I have no reason to suppose
that she entertains for me such feelings as would induce her at this
time to accept my offer. She is extremely anxious to get home; she may
have left a lover there. But let me be once assured that her affections
are disengaged, and that she is really inclined to bestow them on me,
and a declaration shall immediately follow the discovery. A man who,
after being convinced of the regard of the woman he loves, can trifle
with her feelings, and hesitate about securing her hand, does not
deserve to obtain her."
Laura had few preparations to make for her departure, which took place
the next morning, Aubrey Maitland and Mr. Brantley accompanying her and
her father to town, in the early boat. Mrs. Maitland took leave of her
affectionately, Mrs. Brantley smilingly, Augusta coldly, and Miss
Frampton not at all.
Mr. Lovel and his daughter passed that day in Boston, staying at a
hotel. Laura showed her father the children's letter. All the books that
Ella mentioned were purchased for her, and quite a little menagerie of
animals was procured for Rosa.
They arrived safely at Rosebrook. And when Mr. Lovel was invoking a
blessing on their evening repast, he referred to the return of his
daughter, and to his happiness on seeing her once more in her accustomed
seat at table, in a manner that drew tears into the eyes of every member
of the family.
Pyam Dodge was there, only waiting for Laura's arrival, to set out next
morning on a visit to his relations in Vermont. With his usual want of
tact, and his usual kindness of heart, he made so many objections to
receiving the money with which he had accommodated our heroine, that Mr.
Lovel was obliged to slip it privately into his trunk before his
departure.
In a few days, Aubrey Maitland came to Rosebrook and established himself
at the principal inn, from whence he visited Laura the evening of his
arrival. Next day he came both morning and evening. On the third day he
paid her three visits, and after that it was not worth while to count
them.
The marriage of Aubrey and Laura took place at the close of the autumn,
and they immediately went into the possession of an elegant residence of
their own, adjoining the mansion of the elder Mrs. Maitland. They are
now living in as much happiness as can fall to the lot of human beings.
Before the Nahant season was over, Miss Frampton had quarrelled with or
offended nearly every lady at the hotel, and Mr. Brantley privately
insisted that his wife should not invite her to pass the winter with
them. However, she protracted her stay as long as she possibly could,
with any appearance of decency, and then returned to Philadelphia, under
the escort of one of Mr. Brantley's clerks. After she came home, her
visit to Boston afforded her a new subject of conversation, in which the
predominant features were general ridicule of the Yankees (as she called
them), circumstantial slanders of the family to whose hospitality she
had been indebted for more than three months, and particular abuse of
"that little wretch Augusta."
JOHN W. ROBERTSON.
A TALE OF A CENT.
"Some there be that shadows kiss."--SHAKSPEARE.
Selina Mansel was only sixteen when she took charge of her father's
house, and he delegated to her the arduous task of doing as she pleased:
provided always that she duly attended to his chief injunction, never to
allow herself to incur a debt, however trifling, and to purchase nothing
that she could not pay for on the spot. To the observance of this rule,
which he had laid down for himself in early life, Mr. Mansel attributed
all his success in business, and his ability to retire at the age of
fifty with a handsome competence.
Since the death of his wife, Mr. Mansel's sister had presided over his
family, and had taken much interest in instructing Selina in what she
justly termed the most useful part of a woman's education. Such was Miss
Eleanor Mansel's devotion to her brother and his daughter, that she had
hesitated for twelve years about returning an intelligible answer to the
love-letters which she received quarterly from Mr. Waitstill Wonderly, a
gentleman whose dwelling-place was in the far, far east. Every two years
this paragon of patience came in person: his home being at a distance of
several hundred miles, and his habits by no means so itinerant as those
of the generality of his countrymen.
On his sixth avatar, Miss Mansel consented to reward with her hand the
constancy of her inamorato; as Selina had, within the last twelvemonth,
made up two pieces of linen for her father, prepared the annual quantity
of pickles and preserves, and superintended two house-cleanings, all
herself--thus giving proof positive that she was fully competent to
succeed her aunt Eleanor as mistress of the establishment.
Selina Mansel was a very good and a very pretty girl. Though living in a
large and flourishing provincial town, which we shall denominate
Somerford, she had been brought up in comparative retirement, and had
scarcely yet begun to go into company, as it is called. Her
understanding was naturally excellent; but she was timid, sensitive,
easily disconcerted, and likely to appear to considerable disadvantage
in any situation that was the least embarrassing.
About two months after the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Wonderly, the whole
borough of Somerford was thrown into commotion by the unexpected arrival
of an old townsman, who had made his fortune in New Orleans. This person
was called in his youth Jack Robinson. After twenty years of successful
adventure, he now returned as John W. Robertson, Esq., and concluded to
astonish for a while the natives of his own birth-place, and perhaps
pass the summer among them. Therefore, he took two of the best
apartments in the chief hotel; and having grown very tired of old
bachelorship, and entertaining a great predilection for all the
productions of his native town, he determined to select a wife from
among the belles of Somerford.
Now Mr. Robertson was a man in whose face and figure the most amiable
portrait-painter could have found nothing to commend. He was not what is
called a fine-looking man, for though sufficiently tall, he was gaunt
and ill-proportioned. He was not a handsome man, for every feature was
ugly; and his complexion, as well as his hair, was all of one
ash-colour; though his eyes were much lighter than his skin. He was
fully aware of his deficiency in beauty; but it was some consolation to
him that he had been a very pretty baby, as he frequently took occasion
to mention. With all this, he was extremely ambitious of marrying a
beautiful woman, and resolutely determined that she should "love him for
himself alone." Though in the habit of talking ostentatiously of his
wealth, yet he sometimes considered this wealth as a sort of thorn in
his path to matrimony; for he could not avoid the intrusion of a very
uncomfortable surmise, that were he still poor Jack Robinson, he would
undoubtedly be "cut dead" by the same ladies who were now assiduously
angling for a word or a look from John W. Robertson, Esq. It is true
that, being habitually cautious, he proceeded warily, and dispensed his
notice to the ladies with much economy, finding that, in the words of
charity advertisements, "the smallest donations were thankfully
received."
Having once read a novel, and it being one in which the heroine blushes
all through the book, he concluded that confusion and suffusion were
infallible signs of love, and that whenever the bloom on a lady's cheeks
deepens at the sight of a gentleman, there can be no doubt of the
sincerity and disinterestedness of her regard, and that she certainly
loves him for himself alone. Adopting this theory, Mr. Robertson
determined not to owe his success to any adventitious circumstances; and
he accordingly disdained that attention to his toilet usually observed
by gentlemen in the Coelebs line. Therefore, as the season was summer,
he walked about all the morning in a long loose gown of broad-striped
gingham, buckskin shoes, and an enormous Leghorn hat, the brim turned up
behind and down before. In the afternoon, his flying joseph was
exchanged for a round jacket of sea-grass: and in the evening he
generally appeared in a seersucker coat. But he was invited everywhere.
The mothers flattered him, and the daughters smiled on him, yet still he
saw no blushes. He looked in vain for the "sweet confusion, rosy
terror," which he supposed to be always evinced by a young lady in the
presence of the man of her heart. The young ladies that _he_ met with,
had all their wits about them; and if on seeing him they covered their
faces, it was only to giggle behind their fans. Instead of shrinking
modestly back at his approach, they followed him everywhere; and he has
more than once been seen perambulating the main street of Somerford at
the head of half a dozen young ladies, like a locomotive engine drawing
a train of cars.
With the exception of two professed novel-readers who treated our hero
with ill-concealed contempt, because they could find in him no
resemblance to Lord St. Orville or to Thaddeus of Warsaw, Selina Mansel
was almost the only lady in Somerford that took Mr. Robertson quietly.
The truth was, she never thought of him at all: and it was this evident
indifference, so strikingly contrasted with the unremitting solicitude
of her companions, that first attracted his attention towards Selina,
rather than her superiority in beauty or accomplishments; for Miss
Madderlake had redder cheeks, Miss Tightscrew a smaller waist, Miss
Deathscream sung louder, and Miss Twirlfoot danced higher.
Selina Mansel was the youngest of the Somerford belles, and had scarcely
yet come out. It never entered her mind that a man of Mr. Robertson's
age could think of marrying a girl of sixteen. How little she knew of
old bachelors!
Having always heard herself termed "the child," by her father and her
aunt, she still retained the habit of considering herself as such; and
strange to tell, the idea of a lover had not yet found its way into her
head or her heart. Accordingly, on meeting Mr. Robertson for the first
time (it was at a small party), she thought she passed the evening
pleasantly enough in sitting between two matrons, and hearing from them
the praises of her aunt Wonderly's notability--accompanied by numerous
suggestions of improvements in confectionery, and in the management of
servants; these hints being kindly intended for her benefit as a young
housekeeper.
Mr. Robertson, who proceeded cautiously in everything, after gazing at
Selina across the room, satisfied himself that she was very handsome and
very unaffected, and requested an introduction to her from the gentleman
of the house, adding--"But not just now--any time in the course of the
evening. You know, when ladies are in question, it is very impolitic in
gentlemen to show too much eagerness."
The introduction eventually took place, and Mr. Robertson talked of the
weather, then of the westerly winds, which he informed Selina were
favourable to vessels going out to Europe, but dead ahead to those that
were coming home. He then commenced a long story about the very
profitable voyage of one of his ships, but told it in language
unintelligible to any but a merchant.
Selina grew very tired, and having tried to listen quite as long as she
thought due to civility, she renewed her conversation with one of the
ladies that sat beside her, and Mr. Robertson, in some vexation, turned
away and carried his dullness to the other end of the room, where pretty
Miss Holdhimfast sat, the image of delighted attention, her eyes smiling
with pleasure, and her lips parted in intense interest, while he talked
to her of assorted cargoes, bills of lading, and customhouse bonds. At
times, he looked round, over his shoulder, to see if Selina evinced any
discomposure at his quitting her--but he perceived no signs of it.
Mr. Mansel having renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Robertson, our hero
called next morning to pay a visit to the father of Selina, though his
chief motive was the expectation of seeing the young lady, who since the
preceding evening had occupied as much of his mind and thoughts as a
thorough-going business man ever devotes to a woman.
Selina was in the parlour, and sat quietly at her sewing, not perceiving
that, though Mr. Robertson talked to her father all the time about the
Bank of the United States, he looked almost continually at her. On
hearing the clock strike, she rose, put up her work, and repaired to her
own room--recollecting that it was her day for writing to Mrs. Wonderly,
and that the mail would close in two hours, which Selina had always
found the shortest possible time for filling a large sheet of paper
closely written--such being the missive that she despatched every week
to her beloved aunt.
Mr. Robertson, after prolonging his visit to an unreasonable period,
departed in no very good humour at Selina's not returning to the
parlour: for though he saw through the designs of the other ladies, he
was somewhat piqued that our young and handsome heroine should have no
design at all.
In the afternoon Selina went out on a shopping expedition. Mr. Robertson
happened to overtake her, and she looked so very pretty, and tripped
along so lightly and gracefully, that he could not refrain from joining
her, instead of making his bow and passing on, as had been his first
intention.
In the course of conversation, Selina was informed by Mr. Robertson
(who, though no longer in business, still made the price-current his
daily study) that, by the last advices from New York, tallow was calm,
and hides were drooping--that pots were lively, and that pearls were
looking up; and that there was a better feeling towards mackerel.