Extravagant Living CHAPTER 12.
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In most cases, with marriage, early friendships begin to decline. Two young men, for instance, may be warmly attached, and desire still to maintain old relations. They introduce their wives; but one, or both of the ladies, perceive something uncongenial in the other — or, one regards the other as inferior in social rank, taste, or intelligence. For a short time they meet formally — and then mutually turn from each other; or, in the very outset, pride on the one side shrinks sensitively back — and the first introduction and cold compliments are the beginning and end of their social fellowship.
Pinkerton had always felt an attachment for Lofton; and the feeling, as different as they were in their tastes, habits, and principles of action, was reciprocated by the latter. After Lofton's marriage, Pinkerton often called to see him, in the evening, or on Sundays — and the more frequently he met Mrs. Lofton, the more did he become charmed with the beauty of her character. While her mother lived, the education of Ellen had been as carefully attended to, as very limited means would permit. Mrs. Birch was a woman of cultivated mind, and had moved at one time of life in a circle of great refinement. Though restricted in her circumstances, she had never permitted low and vulgar influences to come so within the reach of her daughter, as in any way to deprive her native delicacy of feeling; while, at the same time, she had taught her to set a true value upon those homely virtues, which one in her station would be called upon to exercise. Under so wise and loving a teacher, Ellen had learned her lessons well, the more so, that within her lay inherent, all the germs of a true woman.
From the time of her mother's death, until her marriage, Ellen had found little time for mental improvement. But, after her marriage, as her husband had a fondness for books, an hour or two every evening were spent in reading. Possessing a clear and active mind, the young wife soon began to feel the elevating and expansive power of knowledge. She seemed to be raised into a higher and purer atmosphere, where she not only breathed deeper and more freely, but had a wider range of vision, in which were new objects, the sight thereof filling her with a new delight. And, as this went on, her sweet young face took in a higher type of beauty, and her graceful form grew erect with a dignity all its own.
Soon, to Pinkerton, she was no longer the half-despised, and only tolerated, sewing girl — tolerated because she was the wife of his friend — but an intelligent, graceful woman, commanding the respect of all who came near enough to perceive her true character. And yet she was so retiring, so gentle, that, like the humble violet — she was unnoticed, except by the few who were willing to believe that beauty and fragrance may sometimes be hidden along by-paths, and in the world's untrodden places.
Nearly up to the time of Pinkerton's marriage, Lofton continued to reside with Mrs. Wilson, both he and his young wife deeming it most prudent, yet to live within their moderate income, and thus be steadily accumulating something, small though it might be, against the time when heavier expenses would come. As to what this thoughtless or that proud individual might say of their style of living — it was a matter that did not trouble them in the least. They knew their own resources, and wisely narrowed everything down to a prudent limit.
A number of times had Pinkerton spoken of Mrs. Lofton to his bride to be, and once, when they were walking on a Sunday afternoon, in the western part of the city, he prevailed on Miss Allen to call with him upon his friends.
"Not here!" exclaimed the young lady, drawing back, as Pinkerton laid his hand on the little gate through which they were about to enter.
"Yes. This is the place," replied the young man, smiling. "You mustn't judge too directly from appearances. Remember what the poet says: "Full many a gem of purest ray serene."
At this moment, Lofton having seen them from the window, opened the door of Mrs. Wilson's little "salt-box," and advanced to meet them. Miss Allen's attempted retreat — was now impossible; so assuming a well-bred dignified indifference, the young lady permitted herself to be escorted into the poor little parlor, where sat the wife of Archibald Lofton.
Too much dimmed by pride and vain self-conceit, were the eyes of Flora Allen, to see anything in Mrs. Lofton, but a low-minded, vulgar young woman, the wife of a poor clerk! Her air of superiority, and her evident uneasiness at finding herself in such a place, were so apparent, that Mrs. Lofton felt oppressed, and almost suffocated by her presence. She tried to enter into conversation, but could find little to say. Half-an-hour of constrained fellowship followed; and then, in obedience to a glance from Miss Allen, Pinkerton made a movement to go.
"Why, Mr. Pinkerton! How could you have taken me to such a place!" was the exclamation of Miss Allen, the moment they were in the street. "I wouldn't have been seen going in there for the world! And such stupid people! Ha! ha! And this is the charming, intelligent creature you have been telling me about. Why, she hardly spoke three words all the time we were in the house, and they had no more meaning in them than the words of a child!"
"You saw her at a disadvantage," said the young man, venturing to a feeble defense. "She is rather timid and unused to company. Evidently, we took her by surprise."
"So I would think. I compared her in my own mind, when we went in — to a startled rabbit. But what can be expected of one in her position? Your 'gem of purest ray serene,' Mr. Pinkerton, turns out a mere bit of cheap plastic."
"I trust to see the day, Flora, when you will think differently," returned Pinkerton.
"More than I do, I can assure you. No, no; my fancy doesn't run on these kind of people, and never did. They are well enough in their place. Very good for service that you need. But as companions, no — no!" And the young lady curled her lip in sharp scorn, and tossed her head with a proud air.
Pinkerton was silenced, and partly convinced. We mean, his estimate of Mrs. Lofton was dimmed. For the time-being, he felt that she was a very common-place woman; good enough as a seamstress, or as the wife of a poor, unambitious, plodding clerk: but in no way fitted to take a place in good society — in no way fitted to be the companion of his accomplished Flora. On meeting with Lofton a few days afterwards, he said to him —
"I am really getting out of all patience with you, Archie!"
"What about?" was the natural inquiry.
"Why, will you keep that nice little wife of yours cooped up in such a miserable out of the way place? It is not just to her. She's fitted to shine in almost any society."
"Necessity knows no law," was the quiet answer.
"There's no necessity for this," said Pinkerton, decidedly, "none in the world. You're able to take your wife into a respectable boarding-house downtown, where she would be brought into the company of people who have a position in society. Even if she makes desirable acquaintances now, she has no decent place in which to receive them as visitors. You are not just to her. You are hiding her under a bushel. It is a downright shame!"
"You really think so, Mark?" remarked Lofton, not attempting to repress the smile which broke over his face.
"I do, in all seriousness," was answered.
"As I have said to you before, Mark, we'll bide our time," coolly replied Lofton. "We can wait. As to people who think it not worth while to visit us, because we do not live in a style beyond our means, why, we shall have to dispense with their acquaintance. To secure it on the terms you propose, would be to make it cost, we think, more than it is worth. It would never compensate for the annoyance, mortification and anxieties of debt. If respectable people demand so high a price for their friendship — we shall decline the purchase."
"You are incorrigible!" exclaimed Pinkerton.
<p align="justify">"So you have said before. And it will be very remarkable, if I don't continue, at least in this respect, incorrigible to the end. And so I must bid you good day. Business awaits."
Lofton understood, clearly enough, what was in the mind of his friend. He had not failed to observe the impression his humble style of living made upon the accomplished Miss Allen; nor hesitated in his conclusion, that whatever might be her own impression of herself — she was not, at least in his estimation, a true lady.
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