An American Story of Real Life CHAPTER 4.
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It was about a week after the conversations recorded in the last chapter occurred, that a party was given by Mr. and Mrs. Ware. The Martins were present. The father of Bell had his eye upon her with a careful interest. His fears were soon awakened anew, for Henry got by her side early in the evening, and held his place there with a steadiness that Mr. Martin felt augured no good. As for Bell, she was in the finest spirits imaginable.
"How is Henry doing now?" asked Mr. Martin of Mr. Ware, as the two sat conversing familiarly.
"I am glad to say that there has been, what I esteem, a great change in him of late," replied the father, with a pleased manner.
"Ah, indeed! I am really gratified to hear it."
"You are aware, that he has, all along, evinced no inclination to settle himself down to any business?"
"Yes, I have observed as much."
"I believe he has seen his folly, for he has taken an office with a determination to do something."
"He studied law, I believe?"
"Yes--and passed an excellent examination, more than a year ago."
"Truly, what you say is gratifying. Like too many of the sons of our wealthy men, Henry, I suppose, has not been able to see the necessity of applying himself to any business."
"That has been his error."
"And a very fatal one it is, Mr. Ware. Until our young men feel that there is just the same necessity for them to enter into and attend to business with persevering industry, as there was for their fathers--there will be no guaranty for their retaining the positions to which they have been elevated. Young men of humble origin and no financial resources, will gradually rise up and take the places which they have proved unworthy to fill."
"So I have told Henry many and many a time. But, until now, he has never felt the force of what I said."
"You must feel greatly encouraged for him?"
"No one can tell how much. He is my only son--to see him running a round of idleness, and, I might say, dissipation--has pained me more than I can tell. But he has suddenly paused, and reflected. I know not why--I do not ask why. The fact is all that concerns me."
"You have confidence in the permanency of his good resolutions?"
"I do not permit myself to doubt, Mr. Martin. I look only to the happy results that must follow the change, and look with feelings of pride as well as pleasure. He is a young man of fine mind, and must soon begin to take a place in his profession that will flatter his pride, and spur him onward to higher attainments. This is my calculation--and I believe I am right."
"Most earnestly do I hope that this may be the result."
How far the anticipations of the father were in the way of being realized, the reader will be able to judge by the following conversation, which took place at Harry's new office, with his particular friend and associate, Tom Handy. One of the appendages to this office was an upper room, neatly furnished. In this the two young men were seated, their feet upon a table, on which were glasses and wine in coolers, filling the room with clouds of smoke from two cigars.
"This opening an office is not such a bad idea, after all, is it, Tom?" said young Ware, with a knowing leer, as he slowly drew his cigar from his mouth, and then watched the wreaths of smoke, that he leisurely puffed out, curling up toward the ceiling and gradually dissolving in air.
"No, indeed--it's a capital one," replied his crony, lazily taking his cigar from his teeth, and allowing the smoke, in turn, to float in thick clouds about his head. "No doubt your old man thinks you now deeply immersed in the mysteries of legal reports, or some such interesting employment. Or, perhaps he is at this very time imagining that you are engaged with a client, who, conscious of your superior legal knowledge, has chosen you to represent him in some cause of vast importance--"
"And delighting himself, in imagination, with the sensation my maiden speech will produce!"
"Suppose a case were really offered you?"
"I would decline it, of course. I'm not going to make a fool of myself in that courtroom, I know. What do I know of law?"
"Not much, I would imagine."
"About as much as a dog does of Latin!"
"And that is as much as you ever intend to know?"
"Precisely. I have but one case on hand, and that's the only one I ever intend to have. As far as that is concerned, I believe I am fully ready to maintain my position against any opponent who may present himself."
"What case is that, pray?"
"My case in the court of love."
"True. I had forgotten."
"It required an office, you know, to give me importance, and thus ensure success. When that suit is gained, good-bye to law office and library! They may float in the Schuylkill River for anything I care."
"Everything went off to a charm last night, I believe?"
"O yes, so far as Bell was concerned. But I can't say that I liked the way old Martin and his wife eyed me, every now and then. They're a little suspicious, I believe, of my design."
"You'll have to fight shy for awhile."
"Yes, I will; at least until I can get into the old folks good graces."
"How will you manage that!"
"I've been scheming over a plan all the morning."
"Well, have you hit upon anything?"
"Yes--and I think it will do."
"What is it?"
"You know my way to this office, from home, is right by old Martin's counting-room?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to get a green briefcase made, of pretty liberal capacity, and carry it backward and forward in my hand, once or twice a day, with an air of great business importance."
"You must manage, occasionally, to let the end of a document, plentifully supplied with red tape and big seals, protrude from it, as if you had thrust in your papers hurriedly."
"That's a capital suggestion, Tom, and I shall be sure to adopt it. Don't you think it will have a good effect?"
"It can do no harm, at least."
"So I think--and may do good. As for Bell, she's safe. I could see that she was dull, except when with me, last night--and then she was as lively as a cricket."
"I noticed that, too--and I noticed more."
"What was that?"
"That she was a sweet, interesting girl--and decidedly the prettiest one in the room."
"Do you think so?"
"I really do. It would be no sin for you to love her in downright earnest, Harry."
"So I thought last night. But I can't do that. I would soon get sick of it, and it would only spoil her, into the bargain."
"Fanny looked a very picture of loveliness, also."
"I didn't take much notice of her."
"I did then."
"Suppose you spruce up to her, Tom? She will have wealth, of course, equal to Bell."
"So I thought. But I can't marry yet, unless compelled to do so, which I'm afraid will be the case--as my old man seems inclined to cut off, instead of increasing, supplies."
"Indeed! That's too bad. How has it happened?"
"He says that he does not feel willing to support me in what he calls, idleness, any longer--and that If I will not go into his store and go to work, he will turn me loose upon the world, to shift for myself."
"The old rascal! But pardon me, Tom! I could not but feel indignant at such downright unnatural conduct."
"No offence, Harry. Though I must say, you indulged in great plainness of speech."
"What are you going to do?"
"Heaven alone knows, for I don't."
"You do not intend going into the store, of course?"
"Hardly."
"You'd better speak quick for Fanny, before somebody else steps in. I would like to have you for a brother-in-law, above all things."
"Thank you, Harry! But I must take a little time to consider the matter. The truth is, I don't want a wife--if I can keep free. But, if I must take one, I see no particular objection to Fan."
Henry Ware was in earnest in reference to the green briefcase, which he procured and regularly carried to and fro, between his office and home, at least once every day. Two or three books were of course thrown into it--and, acting upon his friend Tom's suggestion, he now and then managed to let the end of a thick roll of paper, tied with red tape, peep carelessly out. The effect of this upon the mind of Mr. Martin, he had truly calculated.
The old gentleman, who now had good reason for observing him, did not fail to notice the regularity with which Henry went by on his way to his office, and particularly was his eye caught by the green, well-filled briefcase. All this caused him to regard the young man less unfavorably.
"Who came in just now?" he asked of his wife one evening about two weeks after Harry had begun to carry his green briefcase. "Someone rang the bell."
"It's Henry Ware and his sisters, I believe."
"Henry Ware!"
"Yes."
"He was here with his sisters one evening last week, was he not?"
"Yes."
"Next week, I suppose, he will come alone."
"Do you really think he is seriously inclined toward Bell?" the mother asked.
"I'm afraid so, Fanny; and what is more, I'm afraid that Bell is becoming seriously inclined toward him. Several times I have mentioned his name on purpose, to see its effect upon her, and the color has instantly risen to her cheek."
"I have noticed the same thing myself," replied the mother with much concern, in her voice. "What is to be done if she should really love him, and he should make an offer for her hand?"
"We shall, in that case, have to let them marry, I suppose, and take their chance," remarked the father in rather a gloomy tone.
"Surely not! It would be cruel in us to let such a sacrifice take place."
"But we could not help it, Fanny. When a young thing like Bell once gets fairly in love, no reason can reach her. All opposition by us must be finally overcome. My observation convinces me, that the best way is to let matters take their course, and then try and make the best of everything."
"I cannot, indeed I cannot think of consenting to such a marriage, which must inevitably end in heart breaking misery to our child!" said the mother, the tears starting to her eyes.
"It will not be so bad as that. I begin to hope," replied Mr. Martin, encouragingly. "You know what Mr. Ware told me about the change that had taken place in his son?"
"But I have no confidence in it."
"Nor had I, at first. But I really now think that the young man may be in earnest. He passes my store regularly every day to his office, and is no doubt already getting into business, for, of late, he has his briefcase of books and papers with him every morning and afternoon, and begins to have quite a thoughtful air. He has mind enough, and if he only turn himself industriously to the profession he has chosen, he must rise, inevitably, to distinction. Perhaps the chord of ambition may have already been touched. If so, he is safe."
The mother did not fall so readily into this idea. Still, it relieved her mind a good deal; and both, from that time, began to look upon the young man with more favorable eyes.
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