Lovers and Husbands CHAPTER 3.
Back to Lovers and Husbands
Charles Whitney was the son of a New York merchant. He had received the very best education that money could procure him; but, as he had no settled aims in life beyond theenjoyment of himself in all accessible ways — that education was not applied assiduously to any practical purpose. On leaving college, his father took him into his store, and endeavored to initiate him into the science of trade; but he made little progress in the acquirement of this science. He could, it is true, perform the mechanical operations required for daybook, journal, and ledger entries — could take off a balance sheet — make equations — or do anything that brought into requisition the mathematical knowledge be had gained at school. But out of the counting-room, he was of little use. He had no fancy for a salesman's duties. Where he sold a bill of five hundred dollars, anyone of his father's clerks would sell a bill of as many thousands. To illustrate this, let us give a single example.
One morning, contrary to his habit, he was at the store earlier than any of the young men who acted in the capacity of salesmen. He was leaning back in an arm-chair, with his feet on a table, reading the newspaper, when a country customer came in. After shaking hands with him, and passing a few words of mere compliment, he asked the merchant to go out into the store and look at some goods. As the purchase of goods was the merchant's business, he went with young Whitney, and, after examining sundry cases, both upon the first, second, and third floors, laid out goods to the amount of six hundred dollars.
"Is there nothing else that I can show you?" asked the young man, when the merchant had completed his examinations and purchases.
"Nothing more, I believe," was the half-thoughtful reply.
No farther attempt was made to show or sell goods, and the country merchant, after directing bills to be made out, parted with Whitney at the door of the counting-room. Just as he was leaving the store, the senior salesman intercepted the satisfied buyer.
"Ah, good-morning! good-morning! How are you? I am really glad to see you!" was the warm salutation of the salesman, grasping the customer's hand, and shaking it warmly. "What can I sell you today?"
"Nothing more, I believe," returned the merchant. "I have looked over your stock, and laid out all I want."
"But we've a large variety of the very styles of goods suited for your market. We opened them only yesterday. I know you haven't looked over these already."
"Prints, do you mean?"
"Yes."
"I've seen them all, and laid out the patterns that I like best."
"Did you look at our stock of Italian styles? We have some sweet patterns among them."
"Yes, all of them."
"And our fresh India goods?"
"Yes."
"Well, come in, anyhow. You must go over our stock again. I am certain you haven't seen half of it."
And so, leading back the customer, the salesman took him through the house again. When they came down from the upper stories and into the counting-room, the merchant's bill was four thousand dollars instead of six hundred; and, what was more, he had not purchased a single piece of goods that was not needed by him, and which he would not have purchased at some other store. The truth was, the salesman understood his business thoroughly. He knew, just as well as his customer, the exact style and quality of goods required; and these he did not leave him to ask for or hunt out for himself — but took him at once to the case or bale where they were to be found. In this way, he secured to the establishment the full benefit of his customer's real needs as a merchant.
This shows the little interest that was taken by young Whitney in the business. He could have made as good a sale as the clerk, had he qualified himself to do so, by acquiring the necessary information in relation to the needs of customers from different sections of the country. But he did not care to do this. His thoughts were elsewhere. Business was a mere drudgery, and he attended to it only to satisfy his father and keep up appearances. It mattered but little to him whether a customer made a large bill, or a small one. He never thought of its result upon the general business. Pleasure was of much more consequence, and in the pursuit of this, he was often, much too often, away from the store.
Mr. Cooper, the father of Emily, was also occupied in mercantile pursuits, though in a different branch from that engaged in by Mr. Whitney. He was a man who, in his eager pursuit after wealth, had neglected the interests of his child so far as the judicious training of her mind, and the gradual inculcation of true principles were concerned. He sent her to the best schools, and provided for all external accomplishments to the full extent that money would do so. Beyond this, he thought but little. He had no doubt but that his daughter would get a good husband — that is, a wealthy and respectable one, as she deserved. He had made her fully worthy of such good fortune, and, as a matter of course, he had no doubt but that it would come. When, therefore, young Whitney began to show signs of preference for Emily, the father was gratified, as might be supposed. Whitney was a very desirable match — all he could wish for his child. He was well educated, handsome, accomplished, of a good family, and, more than all, was in circumstances to provide handsomely for a wife.
To Emily, his attentions, which, a short time before the opening of our story, had become quite marked, were particularly gratifying. His elegant figure, his polished manners, his fascinating conversation — had long before won her admiration. It was not hard for this feeling to settle into a warmer sentiment; and it was rapidly settling.
On the part of Whitney, a preference for Emily had been a feeling that soon became apparent to himself. The attractiveness of her manner and the beauty of her face, made her a general favorite. She was toasted by the young men when absent, and courted by them when present. There existed among them, a pleasant rivalry for her favor — each one who gained it, if only in appearance, making it a matter to boast about among his companions.
From these young men, Flora, who spent many weeks in the city during the winter season, attracted but little attention. By some she was called "the Old Woman," in allusion to herplain appearance and quiet manner; by others, the "Little Quaker." But there were a few of her own gender who knew her and loved her, and a few of the other gender who always thought a place by her side a peculiar favor.
Once a bright butterfly of fashion came fluttering around her, carelessly at first — but soon attracted by her half-concealed loveliness — the loveliness of heart, and mind, andmanner, when all were seen to exist in a beautiful and perfect symmetry. He lavished upon her his most devoted attentions, and soon asked her hand. He was rich, educated, accomplished; but she declined the offer. He was a brilliant lover — but had not the sterling qualities required for a good husband; and this she had the common sense to see.
In the plain, unpolished Doctor Arlington, she saw more to really love than in any of the showy young men it had been her fortune to meet in the city. Accomplished herself thoroughly, the doctor's utter lack of external ease and grace always slightly annoyed her, especially when others were present to see it. She would look at him sometimes, and wish, involuntarily, that either nature or upbringing had done something more for him. There was good in him — but it needed true expression to let it be seen in its own excellence. When they were alone, she did not see so much of this. Then she attended only to his conversation, which was always interesting; for his mind was well stored, and hiseye saw, and his heart felt the beauty and sentiment of nature. But when she met him in the company of others, especially with young men or women of really polished exteriors — then his awkwardness, his shyness, and his embarrassment annoyed her. The reason of this she did not know; at least, it had never come into conscious thought; the reader will not, perhaps, deem himself quite so ignorant on the subject.
Back to Lovers and Husbands