The Prodigal Daughter CHAPTER 2.
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"How is William Anderson, tonight?" asked a young man, in a familiar tone, coming into the room of the individual he had named.
"Ah, Tom! Is that you? How are you? I am glad to see you! Come, sit down. You are the very man I want to have a talk with."
"Am I, indeed! Well, I wonder what grave matter our united wisdom can accomplish? But, as you seem to have some important matter on your mind, say on, and I will make one of the best of listeners."
"Do you know Alice Melleville?"
"No, I don't personally."
"But you understand me, Jones; you know that there is such a person?"
"It would be strange if I didn't, and you one of my cronies. But what of her?"
"The old man, her father, won't have anything to do with me."
"That is not very strange."
"Nonsense, Jones! I am serious tonight, and want to talk with you on a serious subject."
"Say on, then, and I'll be as grave and thoughtful as a judge on the bench."
"I love Alice — that I find a settled business."
"Ha, ha, ha! Do you, indeed? That is a good one!"
"Tom!"
"Bill!"
"I tell you that I am in sober earnest!"
"Well, well, I grant it. But it did sound a little ludicrous, to hear you assert so gravely, that you were entrapped at last."
"And she loves me, too — in that I cannot be mistaken. But her father will never consent."
"What will you do?"
"I will run away with her."
"Of course. That is talking like a man. And you want my advice and assistance in the matter?"
"Exactly."
"Then I am at your service. But, Anderson, I have no wish to help my friend into a bad scrape. You have nothing on which to support a wife, and Melleville is a hard-hearted old dog. Aren't you afraid he will remain incorrigible?"
"Oh, no, not he. No father can utterly cast off, so sweet a child. It isn't natural. We read of such things in novels and romances, but they never take place in real life."
"I suppose you know best; but my advice is to look well before you leap."
"Trust me for that, Tom."
"Have you everything arranged?"
"No, I have nothing arranged, and it's for that very purpose that I want to see you. I haven't been able to get a sight of her for a week, but I have managed to have a letter conveyed to her, asking for an interview this very night. She will steal away from the house after the old folks are asleep, and meet me at a spot I have designated. She will be reluctant, I know, to leave her father and mother; but as they will never consent, I can easily overrule all objections."
"Well."
"When this is settled, and the time appointed, I shall want you to have a carriage in readiness to convey us with all speed to Richmond."
That I will do, of course. And see here, Anderson, when you do get your fingers into the old chap's money bags — you must not forget my urgent demands at all times for cash."
"O, never fear for that, Jones! I can sympathize with you most warmly in that matter."
These two young men were clerks, at very moderate salaries, in a small town in Virginia. Their bad habits created demands for money far beyond their income; and as neither of them had any hope of rising by individual merit, or strength of character, into the possession of even a moderate share of wealth — they laid it down as a settled principle, that for them, rich wives were an indispensable appendage. Fine clothes and an easy, polished exterior, were assumed, as prerequisites to the accomplishment of the end they had in view.
At a party in the village, where Alice Melleville was present, Anderson had first seen her, and by his attentions had attracted her notice, and awakened something like an interest in her bosom. Her father was known to be very wealthy, and he was also known to possess a large share of aristocratic pride. In consideration of the former — Anderson was assured enough to disregard the latter, and ventured to call upon Alice in a few days after he had met her at the party.
"Is Miss Alice at home?" he asked of Mr. Melleville, whom he met at the door of the old family mansion.
"And what do you want with her, please?" inquired the old gentleman, eyeing the spruce young man with a glance of haughty pride.
"I met her a few evenings ago," Anderson said, with a bow and a smile, "and have merely come to make her a friendly call."
"Indeed! And who are you, please?"
"My name is William Anderson."
"It is? And who is William Anderson?"
"I am a salesman in Mr. Roster's store," replied the young man, a little dashed.
"Then I would advise you to go back and mind your sales," Mr. Melleville said, sneeringly.
Anderson turned on his heel and strode off not, however, before he had obtained a glance of Alice's glowing face at one of the windows. Its expression by no means discouraged him.
"I'll have her yet — see if I don't! If it's only to spite that nasty old aristocrat," he said to himself, as he walked hastily away.
On the very next afternoon, Alice came into the village, and William happened to meet her on the street. He at once addressed her, and, as she was then returning home, he attended her a portion of the way. He readily perceived that she was interested in him, and this gave him confidence.
During the next week, they met again, and during that which followed, twice. He now grew bolder, and ventured to speak of the pleasure her society gave him; and thus progressed from step to step, until the heart of Alice was fully pledged.
At length the father was informed by someone of the fact that his daughter was in company with Anderson whenever she came into the village, when he took prompt measures to check the growing intimacy. This he hoped he had accomplished effectually, when his suspicions were excited on seeing his daughter steal off from the house, on the evening before alluded to. Following her, he was maddened to find that at night, and in a lonely spot, she had dared to meet the man with whom he had forbidden her to hold fellowship.
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