CHAPTER 1
"Jane, how can you tolerate that dull, spiritless creature? Inever sat by his side for five minutes, without getting sleepy."
"He does not seem so very dull to me, Cara," replied her companion.
"It is a true saying, that there never was a Jack without a Jill;but I could not have believed that my friend Jane Emory would havebeen willing to be the Jill to such a Jack."
A slight change was perceptible in the countenance of Jane Emory,and for a moment the color deepened on her cheek. But when she spokein reply to her friend's remark, no indication that she felt itscutting import, was perceptible.
"I am convinced, from close observation of Walter Gray," said Jane,"that he has in his character that which should ever protect himfrom jest or ridicule."
"And what is that, my lady Jane?"
"Right thoughts and sound principles."
"Fiddle stick!"
These should not only be respected, but honored wherever found,"said Jane, gravely.
"In a bear or a boor!" Cara responded, in a tone of irony.
"My friend Cara is ungenerous in her allusions. Surely, she will notassert that Walter Gray is a bear or a boor?"
"He is boorish enough, at any rate."
"There I differ with you, Cara. His manner is not so showy, nor hisattentions to the many little forms and observances of social life,so prompt as to please the fastidious in these matters. Thesedefects, however, are not defects of character, but of education. Hehas not mingled enough in society to give him confidence."
"They are defects, and are serious enough to make him quiteoffensive to me. Last evening, at Mrs. Clinton's party, I sat besidehim for half an hour, and was really disgusted with his markeddisregard of the little courtesies of social life."
"Indeed!" replied Jane, her manner becoming more serious, "and inwhat did these omissions consist?"
"Why, in the first place, while we were conversing,----"
"He could converse, then?" said Jane, interrupting her friend.
"O, no, I beg pardon! While we were trying to converse--for amonghis other defects is an inability to talk to a lady on any subjectof interest--I dropped my handkerchief, on purpose, of course, buthe never offered to lift it for me; indeed, I doubt whether he sawit at all."
"Then, Cara, how could you expect him to pick it up for you, if hedid not see it?"
"But he ought to have seen it. He should have had his eyes abouthim; and so should every gentleman who sits by or is near a lady. Iknow one that never fails."
"And pray, who is the perfect gentleman?" asked Jane smiling. "Is heone of my acquaintances?"
"Certainly he is. I mean Charles Wilton."
"He is, I must confess, different from Walter Gray," Jane remarked,drily.
"I hope he is!" said Cara, tossing her head, for she felt thatsomething by no means complimentary was implied in the equivocalremark of her friend.
"But, seriously, Cara, I must, in turn, express regret that youallow yourself to feel interested in one like Charles Wilton. Trustme, my friend, he is unworthy of your regard."
"And pray, Miss," said Cara, warming suddenly, "what do you know ofCharles Wilton, that will warrant your throwing out suchinsinuations against him?"
"Little beyond what I have learned by my own observation."
"And what has that taught you? I should like very much to know."
"It has taught me, Cara," replied Jane, seriously, "to estimate himvery lightly indeed. From what I have seen, I am convinced that hepossesses neither fixed principles nor any decision of character. Inthe world, without these a man is like a ship upon the ocean, havingneither helm nor compass."
"You make broad and bold charges, Jane. But I am sure you aremistaken."
"I may be. But so certain am I that I am right, that I would ratherdie this hour than be compelled to link my lot in life with his.Certain I am that I should make shipwreck of hope and affection."
"You deal in riddles, Jane. Speak out more plainly."
"Surely, Cara, long before this you have or ought to havediscovered, that Charles Wilton exhibits far too much love ofappearance for a sensible man. He dresses in the very best style andmay be able to afford it; but that is not all;--he evidently esteemsthese external embellishments of superior importance to mental ormoral endowments. He rarely fails to remark upon men not so welldressed as himself, and to refer to the defect as one sufficient tomake the individual contemptible, no matter what may be thecircumstances or merit of the person referred to. I have more thanonce noticed that Charles Wilton passes over every thing in hisdisgust for defect in dress."
"I do not see a matter of serious importance in that," said Cara."His love of dress is a mere foible, that may be excused. Itcertainly has nothing to do with his real character."
"It is an indication of the man's true character," her friendreplied. "I am sure that I want no plainer exhibition. If he wassimply fond of dress, and indulged in that fondness even to theextent he now does it might indicate a mere weakness of character,in the form of an undue love of admiration. But when, to this, wesee a disposition to value others, and to judge of them by theirgarments, then we may be sure that there is a serious defect ofcharacter. The man, Cara, believe me, who has no higher standard ofestimation for other men, than the form, manner, and texture oftheir garments, has not the capacity rightly to value a woman or toknow wherein her true merit lies. This is one of the reasons why Isaid that I would rather die than link my lot in life with thatyoung man."
"Well, as for me, Jane, I am sure that I would rather have a manwith some spirit in him, than to be tied to such a drone as WalterGray. Why, I should die in a week. I can't for my life, see how youcan enjoy his society for a moment!"
"I should think any woman ought to be able to enjoy the company of aman of sense," Jane remarked, quietly.
"Surely, Jane, you don't pretend by that to set up Walter Gray asthe superior of Charles Wilton in regard to intelligence?"
"Certainly I do, Cara."
"Why, Jane! There is no comparison, in this respect, between them.Every one knows that while Walter is dull, even to stupidity,Charles has a brilliant, well-informed mind. It is only necessary tohear each converse for an hour, to decide upon their respectivemerits."
"In that last sentence you have uttered the truth, Cara, but theresult would depend much upon the character of the listeners. For atime, no doubt, if Charles made an effort to show off, he wouldeclipse the less brilliant and unobtrusive Walter. But a close anddiscriminating observer would soon learn to judge between sound andsense, between borrowed thoughts and truthful sentiments originatingin a philosophical and ever active mind. The shallow stream runssparkling and flashing in the sunlight, while the deeper waters liedark and unattractive."
Cara shook her head as her friend ceased speaking, and replied,laughingly--
"You can beat me at talking, Jane--but all your philosophy andpoetry can't make me think Charles Wilton less brilliant andsensible, or Walter Gray less dull and spiritless."
The two young men whose merits Jane Emory and Cara Linton had thusbeen discussing, had been law students for some years in the sameoffice, and were now just admitted to practice at the bar in one ofour Atlantic cities. They were friends, though altogether unlikeeach other. Walter Gray was modest and retiring, while CharlesWilton was a dashing, off-hand kind of a fellow, with morepretensions than merit. The mind of Walter was rather sluggish,while that of his friend was quick, and what some were disposed toesteem brilliant. The one was fond of dress and show, and effect;while the other paid less regard to these things than was reallynecessary to make him, with many, an agreeable companion. But thequick perceptions of the one were not equal to the patient, untiringapplication of the other. When admitted to practice, Wilton couldmake an effective, brilliant speech, and in ordinary cases, where anappeal to the feelings could influence a jury, was uniformlysuccessful. But, where profound investigation, concise reasoning,and a laborious array of authorities were requisite, he was nocompetitor for his friend Gray. He was vain of his personalappearance, as has before been indicated, and was also fond ofpleasure and company. In short, he was one of those dashing youngmen to be met with in all professions, who look upon business as annecessary evil, to be escaped whenever a opportunity offers--whoseexpectations of future prosperity are always large, and who look forsuccess, not in the roads of patient, laborious application, but bya quicker and more brilliant way. They hope to produce a sensationby their tact or talents, and thus take fortune by storm. Few,indeed we might say none, of this class succeed. Those who startle acommunity by rapid advances, are, in all cases, such as have, toquick perceptions and brilliant powers, added much labor. Talent isnothing without prolonged and patient application; and they whosuppose the road to success lies in any other way, may discovertheir error too late.
The estimation in which the characters of these two young men washeld, at least by two individuals, the preceding conversation hasapprised the reader. Each made his impression upon a certain orderof mind, and each was regarded, or lightly esteemed accordingly.Although in talents and in a right estimation of life and its trueends, the two young men were altogether dissimilar; yet were theyfriends, and in many respects intimate. Why they were so, we shallnot stop to enquire, but proceed to introduce them more particularlyto the reader.
"I suppose you are going to Mrs. Melton's this evening?" said Wiltonto his friend, a few weeks after the period indicated in the openingof this story.
"I feel as if I would like to go. A social evening, now and then, Ifind pleasant, and I have no doubt it is useful to me."
"That is right, Walter. I am glad to see you coming out of yourrecluse habits. You want the polish and ease that social life willgive you."
"I feel that, Wilton. But I fear I am too old now to have all therough corners knocked off, and worn smooth."
"O, don't despair. You'll make a ladies' man after awhile, if youpersevere, and become more particular in your dress. But, to changethe subject, a little, tell me what you think of Cara Linton? Herfather is worth a plum, and she is just the showy, brilliant woman,of which a man like me ought to be proud of."
"As you ask me, Charles, I must reply candidly. I would think her adear bargain with all her father's money thrown in with her; and asto your other reasons for thinking of her as a wife, I considerthem, to speak plainly, as I always do to you, despicable!"
"And why so, Mr. Philosopher?"
"A wife should be chosen from much higher considerations than these.What do you want with a brilliant, showy wife? You marry, or oughtto marry, a companion for yourself--not a woman for the world toadmire."
"You are too matter-of-fact, by half, Walter. Your common senseideas, as you call them, will keep you grubbing in a mole hill allyour life.
"I should like to see the woman you would choose for a wife!"
"I wish you had a few of these common sense ideas you despise somuch. I am afraid, Charles, that the time is not very distant whenyou will stand sadly in need of them."
"Don't trouble yourself, Walter. I'll take care of number one. Letme alone for that. But, I should like to know your seriousobjections to Cara? You sweep her aside with one wave of your hand,as if she were too insignificant to be thought of for a moment."
"I said that I should consider her a dear bargain, and so Iwould--for she would not suit me at all."
"Ah, there I believe you. But come, let me hear why she would notsuit you."
"Because she has no correct and common sense estimation of life andits relations. She is full of poetry and romance, and fashion, andshow, and 'all that kind of thing;' none of which, without a greatdeal of the salt of common sense, would suit me."
"Common sense! Common sense! Common sense! That is your hobby.Verily, Walter, you are a monomaniac on the subject of common sense;but, as for me, I will leave common sense to common people. I go infor uncommon sense."
"The poorest and most unprofitable sense of all, let me tell you.And one of these days you will discover it to be so."
"It is no use for us to compare our philosophical notes, I seeplainly enough," Wilton responded. "We shall never view things inthe same light. You are not the man of the world you should be,Walter. Men of half your merit will eclipse you, winning opulenceand distinction--while you, with your common sense notions, will beplodding on at a snail's pace. You are behind the age, and astranger to its powerful, onward impulses."
"And ever do I desire to remain behind the age, Wilton, if merepretension and show be its ruling and impulsive spirit."
"The old fashioned way of attaining eminence," Charles Wiltonreplied, assuming an attitude and speaking out truly the thoughtsthat were in his mind; "by plodding on with the emmet's patience,and storing up knowledge, grain by grain, brings not the hoped forreward, now. You must startle and surprise. The brilliant meteorattracts a thousand times more attention, than the brightest starthat shines in the firmament."
"You are trifling, Charles."
"Never was more in earnest in my life. I have made up my mind tosucceed; to be known and envied. And to gain the position ofeminence I desire, I mean to take the surest way. The world willbe deceived, and, therefore, they who would succeed must throw dustin people's eyes."
"Or, in other words, deceive them by pretension. Charles, let mewarn you against any such unmanly, and, I must say, dishonestcourse. Be true to yourself and true to principle."
"I shall certainly be true to myself, Walter. For what pray do wetoil over dry and musty law books in a confined office, months andyears, if not to gain the power of rising in the world? I haveserved my dreary apprenticeship--I have learnt the art and mystery,and now for the best and most certain mode of applying it."
"But, remember your responsibility to society. Your----"
Nonsense! What do I, or what does any one else care about society?My motto is, Every one for himself, and the deuce take the hindmost.And that's the motto of the whole world."
"Not of the whole world, Charles."
"Yes, of the whole world, with, perhaps, the single, strangeexception of Walter Gray. And he will be flung to the wall, and soonforgotten, I fear."
"You jest on a serious subject, Charles."
"I tell you, Walter, I am in earnest," Wilton replied with emphasis."He that would be ahead, must get ahead in the best way possible.But I cannot linger here. It is now nearly night; and it will takeme full two hours to prepare myself to meet Miss Cara Linton. I mustmake a captive of the dashing maiden this very evening." And sosaying, he turned, and left the office.
That evening, amid a gay and fashionable assemblage at Mrs.Merton's, was to be seen the showy Charles Wilton, with his easy,and even elegant manners, attracting almost as much attention as hisvain heart could desire. And the quiet, sensible Walter Gray wasthere also, looking upon all things with a calm, philosophic mein.
"Your friend Mr. Wilton is quite the centre of attraction for theyoung ladies, this evening," remarked Jane Emory, who was leaningupon the arm of Walter Gray, and listening with an interest shescarcely dared confess to herself, to his occasional remarks, thatindicated a mind active with true and healthful thought.
"And he seems to enjoy it," replied Walter, with a pleasant tone andsmile.
"Almost too much so, it seems to me, for a man," his companion said,though with nothing censorious in her manner. She merely expressed asentiment without showing that it excited unkind feelings.
"Or for a woman, either," was the quick response.
"True. But if pleased with attentions, and even admiration may wenot be excused?"
"O, certainly. We may all be excused for our weaknesses; still theyare weaknesses, after all."
"And therefore should not be encouraged."
"Certainly not. We should be governed by some higher end than themere love of admiration--even admiration for good qualities."
"I admit the truth of what you say, and yet, the state is one towhich I have not yet attained."
Walter Gray turned a look full of tender interest upon the maiden byhis side, as she ceased speaking, and said in a tone that had in itmuch of tenderness,
"You express, Miss Emory, but the feeling which every one has whotruly desires the attainment of true excellence of character. Wehave not this excellence, naturally, but it is within the compass ofeffort. Like you, I have had to regret the weaknesses anddeficiencies of my own character. But, in self-government, as ineverything else, my motto is, Persevere to the end. The same motto,or the same rule of action, clothed in other words, perhaps, Itrust--nay, I am sure, rules in your mind."
For a few moments Jane did not reply. She feared to utter any formof words that would mislead. At length she said, modestly,
"I try to subdue in me what is evil, or that which seems to me toact in opposition to good principles."
Before Walter Gray, pleased with the answer, could frame in his minda fitting reply, Charles Wilton, with Cara Linton on his arm, wasthrown in front of them.
"Has Walter been edifying you with one of the Psalms of David, MissEmory?" said Wilton, gaily. "One would think so from his solemnface, and the demure, thoughtful expression of yours."
Neither Walter nor his fair companion were what is calledquick-witted; and both were so checked in their thoughts andfeelings that neither could, on the moment, fitly reply.
"O, I see how it is," the gay young man continued. "He has beenreading you some of his moral homilies, and you are tired to death.Well, you must bear with him, Miss Emory, he will learn better afterawhile." And the young man and his thoughtless companion turnedlaughing away.
For a few moments the disturbed thoughts of Walter and his fairfriend, trembled upon the surface of their feelings, and then allwas again as tranquil as the bosom of a quiet lake.
Enough has now been said, to give a fair idea of the ends which thetwo young men, we have introduced, set before them upon enteringlife. Let us now proceed to trace the effects of these ends;effects, which, as a necessary consequence, involved others as muchas themselves.
CHAPTER II.
"Well, Gray, the business is all settled," said Wilton, one day,coming into the office of the individual he addressed so familiarly.
"What business, Charles?"
"Why, I've won the rich and beautiful Miss Linton. Last night I toldmy story, and was referred to the old man, of course. I have justseen him, and he says I am welcome to the hand of his daughter. Now,is not that a long stride up the ladder! The most beautiful andattractive woman in the city for a wife, and an old daddy in law asrich as Croesus!"
"You are what some would call a lucky dog," said Wilton, with asmile.
"And yet there is no luck in it. 'Faint heart, they say, 'never wonfair lady.' I knew half-a-dozen clever fellows who were looking toMiss Linton's hand; but while they hesitated, I stepped boldly upand carried off the prize. Let me alone, Walter. I'll work my waythrough the world."
"And I, too, have been doing something in that line."
"You? Why, Walter, you confound me! I never dreamed that you wouldhave the courage to make love to a woman."
"Wiser ones than you are mistaken, sometimes."
"No doubt of it. But who is the fair lady?"
"Can you not guess?"
"Jane Emory?"
"Of course. She is the most sensible women it has yet been myfortune to meet."
"Has the best common sense, I suppose?"
"Exactly."
"You are a genius, Walter. When you die, I expect you will leave aclause in your will, to the effect that the undertaker shall be aman of good, plain, common sense. O dear! What a dull life you willlead! Darby and Joan!"
"You are still a trifler with serious matters, Charles. But timewill sober you, I trust, and do it before such a change will cometoo late."
"How much is old Emory worth, Walter?" Wilton asked, withoutregarding the last remark of his friend.
"I am sure I do not know. Not a great deal, I suppose."
"You don't know?"
"No; how should I?"
"Well, you are a queer one! It is time that you did then, let metell you."
"Why so?"
"In the name of sense, Walter, what are you going to marry hisdaughter for."
"Because I love her."
"Pah! I know how much of that sort of thing appertains to thebusiness."
"Charles!"
"Don't look so utterly dumfounded, friend Walter."
"I am surprised, and I must say pained, to hear you speak thus.Surely you love the young lady you propose to marry?"
"Of course. But then I have a decent regard for her old father'swealth; and I am by no means insensible to her personal attractions.I group all that is desirable into one grand consideration--beauty,wealth, standing, mental endowments, etc.,--and take her for thewhole. But for love--a mere impulse that will die of itself, if leftalone,--to marry a young lady! O no,--I am not the simpleton forthat!"
Walter Gray looked his friend in the face for a moment or two, butdid not reply. He was pained, even shocked at his levity.
"You seem really to doubt my being in earnest?" said Wilton, after apause.
"I would doubt, if I could, Charles. But I fear you are speaking outtoo truly, sentiments that I could not have believed you capable ofentertaining."
"You are too simple and unsophisticated to live in this world, myold friend Walter Gray."
"And long may I remain so," was the calm response, "if to be honestand sincere is to be simple and unsophisticated."
"Well, good morning to you, and success to your love marriage."
And so saying, Charles Wilton left the office of his friend.
A few weeks more passed away, and the two young men had, in themeantime, consummated their matrimonial engagements. The wedding ofCharles Wilton and Cara Linton was a splendid affair, succeeded byparties and entertainments for five or six weeks. That of WalterGray and Jane Emory passed off more quietly and rationally.
Three months after their wedding-day, let us look in upon the twofriends and their fair partners; and first, upon Charles Wilton andhis bride. The time is evening, and they are sitting alone in one oftheir richly furnished parlors.
"O dear!" yawned out Wilton, rising and walking backwards andforwards, "this is dull work. Is there no place where we can go andspend a pleasant evening?"
"I don't know, dear. Suppose we step over and see Pa?"
"O no. We were there two or three evenings ago. And, any how, I amin no humor for playing at draughts."
"Well, I should like to go there this evening. I want to see Maabout something."
"You can easily go to-morrow, Cara, and stay as long as you choose."
"But I should like to go to night, dear."
"Don't think of it, Cara."
"Then suppose we call in and sit an hour with the Melton's?"
"Not to-night, Cara. The old man is deaf, and talks you out of allpatience about sugars and teas cotton and tobacco."
"But the girls are lively and entertaining."
"Not for me, Cara. Think again."
"Why not stay at home?"
"And pray what shall we do here?"
"I'll sing and play for you."
"I am in no humor for music to-night."
His young wife sighed, but Wilton did not notice it.
"Come, let us go over to the Grogans?" he at length said.
"I can't say that I care much about going there," his wife replied.
"Of course not. You never seem to care much about going where I wishto," said Wilton, pettishly.
His wife burst into tears, and sat sobbing for some minutes, duringwhich time Wilton paced the room backwards and forwards, in moodysilence. After a while his wife rose up and stole quietly from theroom, and in a few minutes returned, dressed, to go out.
"I am ready," she said.
"Ready to go where?"
"To Mr. Grogan's, of course. You wish to go."
"I don't care about going now, as long as you are unwilling."
"Yes, but I am willing, Charles, if the visit will be pleasant toyou."
"O, as to that, I don't wish to compel you to go anywhere."
"Indeed, Charles, I am willing to go," said his wife, while hervoice trembled and sounded harshly. "Come, now that I am ready. Iwish to go."
For a moment longer Wilton hesitated, and then took up his hat andwent with her. Few were the words that passed between them as theywalked along the street. Arrived at their friend's house they bothsuddenly changed, and were as gay, and seemed as happy, as thegayest and the happiest.
"Shall we call in upon some pleasant friends to-night or spend ourevening alone?" asked Walter Gray, taking a seat upon the sofabeside his happy wife, on the same evening that the foregoingconversation and incidents occurred.
"Let it be as you wish, Walter," was the affectionate, truthfulreply.
"As for me, Jane, I am always happy at home--too happy, I sometimesthink."
"How, too happy?"
"Too happy to think of others, Jane. We must be careful not tobecome isolated and selfish in our pleasures. Our social charactermust not be sacrificed. If it is in our power to add to thehappiness of others, it is right that we should mingle in the socialcircle."
"I feel the truth of what you say, Walter, and yet I find it hard tobe thus unselfish. I am sure that I would a thousand times ratherremain at home and read with you a pleasant book, or sing and playfor you, than to spend an evening away from our pleasant home."
"I feel the same inclinations. But I am unwilling to encourage them.And yet, I am not an advocate for continual visitings. The delightsof our own sweet fireside, small though the circle be, I would enjoyoften. But these pleasures will be increased tenfold by ourwillingness to let others share them, and, also, by our joining intheir home--delights and social recreations."
A pause of a few moments ensued, when Mrs. Gray said,
"Suppose, then, Walter, we call over and see how they are getting onat 'home?' Pa and Ma are lonesome, now that I am away."
"Just what I was thinking of, Jane. So get on your things, and wewill join them and spend a pleasant evening."
These brief conversations will indicate to the reader how each ofthe young men and their wives were thus early beginning to reap thefruits of true and false principles of action. We cannot trace eachon his career, step by step, during the passage of many years,though much that would interest and instruct could be gathered fromtheir histories. The limits of a brief story like this will notpermit us thus to linger. On, then, to the grand result of theirlives we must pass. Let us look at the summing up of the wholematter, and see which of the young men started with the true secretof success in the world, and which of the young ladies evinced mostwisdom in her choice of a husband.
CHAPTER III.
"Poor Mrs. Wilton!" remarked Mrs. Gray, now a cheerful, intelligentwoman of forty, with half-a-dozen grown and half-grown up daughters,"it makes me sad whenever I see her, or think of her."
"Her husband was not kind to her, I believe, while she lived withhim," said Mrs. Gray's visitor, whom she had addressed.
"It is said so. But I am sure I do not know. I never liked him, northought him a man of principle. I said as much as I thought prudentto discourage her from receiving his attentions. But she was a gaygirl herself, and was attracted by dashing pretension, rather thanby unobtrusive merit."
"It was thought at one time that Mr. Wilton would lead in theprofession here. I remember when his name used frequently to getinto the newspapers, coupled with high compliments on his brillianttalents."
"Yes. He flashed before the eyes of the crowd for awhile, but it wassoon discovered that he had more brilliancy than substance. The lossof two or three important cases, that required solid argument and awell-digested array of facts and authorities, instead of flights offancy and appeals to the feelings, ruined his standing at the bar.The death of his father-in-law, with an insolvent estate,immediately after, took wonderfully from the estimation in which hewas held. Thrown, thus, suddenly back, and upon his own resources,he sunk at once from the point of observation, and lingered aroundthe court-house, picking up petty cases, as a matter of necessity.Long before this, I had noticed that Mrs. Wilton had greatlychanged. But now a sadder change took place--a separation from herhusband. The cause of this separation I know not. I never asked her,nor to me has she ever alluded to it. But it is said that his mannertowards her became insufferable, and that she sought protection andan asylum among her friends. Be the cause what it may, it is enoughto make her a poor, heart-stricken creature."
"How well I remember, when their parties were the most splendid andbest attended of the season."
"Yes, I well remember it too. Still, even then, gay and brilliant asMrs. Wilton was, I never thought her happy. Indeed, seeing her oftenalone as I did, I could not but mark the painful contrast in herspirits. At home, when not entertaining company, she was listless orunhappy. How often have I come in upon her, and noticed hermoistened eyes."
"Ah me! it must be a wrong beginning that makes so sad an ending."
The truth of the remark, as applicable in this case, struck Mrs.Gray forcibly, and she mused in thoughtful silence for a fewmoments.
"Have you heard the news, Judge Gray?" said a lawyer, addressing theindividual he had named, about the same hour that the conversation,just noted, occurred.
"No. What is it?"
"Why, Wilton has committed a forgery."
"O no, it cannot be!" said the Judge, in tones of painful surprise.
"It is too true, I fear, Judge."
"Is the amount considerable?"
"Ten thousand dollars is the sum mentioned."
"Has he been arrested?"
"No. But the officers are hard after him. The newspapers willannounce the fact to-morrow morning."
Judge Gray leaned his head upon his hand, and, with his eyes castupon the floor, sat for some moments in painful thought.
"Poor man!" he at length said, looking up. "The end has come atlast. I have long feared for him. He started wrong in thebeginning."
"I hope they will catch him," remarked the individual he wasaddressing.
Judge Gray did not reply, but cast his eyes again upon the floor.
"He has lived by gambling these six years," continued the lawyer,"and I suppose he has committed this forgery to pay some 'debt ofhonor.' Well, I can't say that I am sorry to be rid of him from thisbar, for he was not a pleasant man to be forced into contact with."
"And yet he was a man of some talents," remarked the Judge,musingly.
"And when that is said all is said. Without industry, legalknowledge, or sound principles of action, what was he good for? Hewould do for a political stump declaimer--but, as a lawyer, in anycase of moment, he was not worth a copper."
And thus saying, the lawyer turned away, and left Judge Gray to hisown thoughts.
"I have unpleasant news to tell you, Jane," said Judge Gray, cominginto the room where sat his wife, an hour afterwards.
"What is that, husband?" asked Mrs. Gray, looking up with aconcerned countenance.
"Why, our old friend Charles Wilton has committed a forgery!"
"Poor Cara! It will break her heart," Mrs. Gray said in a sad tone.
"I do not suppose she has much affection for him, Jane."
"No, but she has a good deal of pride left--all, in fact, thatsustains her. This last blow, I fear, will be too much for one whohas no true strength of character."
"Would it not be well for you to call in and see her to-morrow? Thepapers will all announce the fact in the morning, and she may needthe consolation which a true friend might be able to afford her."
"I will go, most certainly, much as my natural feelings shrink fromthe task. Where she is, I am sure she has no one to lean upon: forthere is not one of her so-called friends, upon whom she feelsherself a burden, that can or will sympathize with her truly."
"Go, then. And may mercy's errand find mercy's reward."
On the next morning all the city papers teemed with accounts of thelate forgery, and blazoned Charles Wilton's name, with manyopprobrious epithets before the public. Some went even so far as toallude to his wife, whom they said he had forsaken years before, andwho was now, it was alleged, living in poverty, and, some hinted indisgrace and infamy.
Early in the day, Mrs. Gray repaired to the cheerless home of herearly friend. She was shown to her chamber, where she found herlying insensible on the bed, with one of the newspapers in her hand,that alluded to herself in disgraceful terms.
Long and patient efforts to restore her, at length produced thedesired result. But it was many days before she seemed distinctlyconscious of what was passing or would converse with any degree ofcoherency.
"Come and spend a few weeks with me, Cara."
Mrs. Gray said to her, one day, on calling in to see her; "I am sureit will do you good."
There was a sad, but grateful expression in the pale face of Mrs.Wilton, as she looked into the eye of her old friend, but venturedno reply.
"You will come, will you not, Cara?" urged Mrs. Gray.
"My presence in your happy family would be like the shadow of anevil wing," said she bitterly.
"Our happy family, say-rather, would chase away the gloomy shadowsthat darken your heart. Come then, and we will give you a cheerfulwelcome."
"I feel much inclined, and yet I hesitate, for I ought not to throwa gloom over your household," and the tears filled her eyes, andglistened through the lids which were closed suddenly over them.
"Come, and welcome!" Mrs. Gray urged, taking her hand and gentlypressing it.
That evening Mrs. Wilton spent in the pleasant family of her oldfriend.
Three weeks afterwards, Mrs. Gray asked of her husband, if anythinghad been heard of Mr. Wilton.
"Nothing," he replied. "He has escaped all pursuit thus far, and theofficers, completely at fault, have returned."
"I cannot say that I am sorry, at least for the sake of his wife.She seems more cheerful since she came here. I feel sometimes as ifI should like to offer her a home, for she has none, that mighttruly be so called."
"Act up to your kind desire, Jane, if you think it right to do so,"said her husband. "Perhaps in no other home open to her could somuch be done for her comfort."
The home was accordingly offered, and tearfully accepted.
"Jane," said the sad hearted woman, "I cannot tell you how much Ihave suffered in the last twenty years. How much fromheart-sickening disappointments, and lacerated affections. Highhopes and brilliant expectations that made my weak brain giddy tothink of, have all ended thus. How weak and foolish--how mad wewere! But my husband was not all to blame. I was as insane in myviews of life as he. We lived only for ourselves--thought and caredonly for ourselves--and here is the result. How wisely and well didyou choose, Jane. Where my eye saw nothing to admire, yours moreskilled, perceived the virgin ore of truth. I was dazzled by show,while you looked below the surface, and saw true character, and itseffect in action. How signally has each of us been rewarded!" andthe heart-stricken creature bowed her head and wept.
And now, kind reader, if there be one who has followed us thus far,are you disappointed in not meeting some startling denoument, orsome effective point in this narrative. I hope not. Natural resultshave followed, in just order, the adoption of true and falseprinciples of action--and thus will they ever follow. Learn, then, alesson from the history of the two young men and the maidens oftheir choice. Let every young man remember, that all permanentsuccess in life depends upon the adoption of such principles ofaction as are founded in honesty and truth; and let every youngwoman take it to heart, that all her married life will be affectedby the principles which her husband sets down as rules of action.Let her give no consideration to his brilliant prospect, or hisbrilliant mind, if sound moral principles do not govern him.
"But what became of Charles Wilton and his wife?" I hear abright-eyed maiden asking, as she turns half impatient from myhomily.
Wilton has escaped justice thus far, and his wife, growing more andmore cheerful every day, is still the inmate of Judge Gray's family,and I trust will remain so until the end of her journeying here. Andwhat is more, she is learning the secret, that there is morehappiness in caring for others, than in being all absorbed inselfish consideration. Still, she is a sad wreck upon the stream oflife--a warning beacon for your eyes, young lady.
THE END.
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