The Temptation! CHAPTER 9
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The party at the Turners', which was well attended, and proved a delightful one to all present, was quickly followed by another at Mr. Algeron's, upon the same exclusive principle, and this by a third, under like restrictions. Grace Turner and Margaretta Algeron attended all these, and many others during the close of that season. The latter gradually recovered from her disappointment, though it was a long time before she could even think of Sidney Markland without a quicker throb of her heart. He never attempted to throw himself in her way afterwards. Driven, by his evil courses, from the circle in which he had mingled for years, he abandoned himself more and more to vulgar and degrading vices, until he became lost to all sense of shame — and lay like a dead weight upon the heart of his family.
Henry Turner, who had felt much drawn towards Margaretta, and whose attentions to her early in the fall had been lightly treated — soon ceased to show her more than ordinarily polite civilities. Her decided preference for a man like Markland made him think but lightly of her — and still more lightly, after the attempted elopement, with its sequel, had transpired. But when he again came into familiar contact with her, he could not help feeling an awakening admiration, although he struggled against it, and argued against her on the score of herblind and weak infatuation in regard to a man whose vile habits should have made every pure-minded woman shrink from him with instinctive aversion! Time wore on, and the season of festivities passed away, during which the parties were mainly conducted upon the exclusive principle which Mr. and Mrs. Turner had been first to establish. All saw that it was right. And even those upon whom it bore hard, or at least upon some members of their families, could not but acknowledge that, into virtuous society — virtue should be the passport.
Wealth and family connections impart no moral qualities, and, therefore, these alone should never give admission to a man of bad character into our social circles. Is not this a self-evident truth to every mind? If not — if it requires the practical operation of a principle to make its nature apparent — let the incredulous open their eyes and look around them. Let them read over the social histories of the first circles in our city for twenty years past — and if it does not give them the heartache, then are they callous indeed. And why does it present so painful a picture? There have been too few social restrictions! No man's daughters are safe, even in so called "good society." Need we again repeat the truth — that society has not been hedged around as it should have been — that virtue has not been the passport?
But to return, and briefly wind up our story. During the ensuing summer, Grace and Margaretta, who had always been fond of each other, became very intimate. This intimacy was not, at first, pleasing to Mr. Turner, who did not think the daughter of Mr. Algeron a fair companion for his child, after the exhibition of her character which the events of the winter had presented. And yet he never saw her, that his prejudice did not, in some degree, give way. She was modest, retiring, intelligent, and accomplished. Above all, she even reminded him of his own child. When together, they looked like sisters, and by strangers were often thought to bear that relation to each other.
Fall and winter again came around; and with the festive season, came also to Mr. Turner and some others, a consciousness that they had a social duty to perform. The restrictions of the preceding year had been felt by every parent as a protection for his child; but so much are the majority of people slaves to the tyranny of custom, that, unless they can find a leader to take the odium and responsibility of innovation — they will go on in the old track, be the threatened danger ever so great. So it would have been in this instance, had not Mr. Turner and Mr. Algeron been firm in leading off upon the exclusive system. Twice, during the season, this beneficial rule was broken by people too weak to offend in certain quarters; but the prompt withdrawal from their companies, by Mr. Turner and a few who imitated his example, of their families — effectually checked the spread of such a dangerous precedent. During this winter, Henry Turner was thrown more than ever into Margaretta's society, and, in spite of his efforts to struggle against his feelings, he could not help feeling for her a growing preference — in fact, a warm regard. Still, the Markland affair troubled him. He could not tell how far her feelings were still committed in that direction; and, indeed, the idea that she now or had ever entertained an affection for one like him, gave him a momentary aversion to her. But this grew weaker every day.
As for Sidney Markland, he was running his downward course with insane velocity. Having now no external inducements for an pretension of virtue and propriety — he let his true character speak forth freely in all his actions — which were often too gross violations of decency to bear a record here.
One morning, towards the ensuing spring, Margaretta sat glancing over a newspaper, when her eye fell upon the following paragraph, under the head of city news:
"SKIRMISH — AND JUST PUNISHMENT. An affair came off in one of our public streets, yesterday, which, though involving a breach of the law, we can hardly find it in our heart to condemn. Most of our citizens who have occasion to go into Chestnut Street, have noticed a bearded, haughty, moustached fellow, named Markland, of no very enviable notoriety. For a year past, he has wisely confined his adventures to a class of people in whom the public take no particular interest. But recently be stepped beyond this boundary, and dared to offer an insult to the sister of a young man well known in our first circles. The consequence was a public beating, which every virtuous mind must approve. It is said to have been well laid on, and in the presence of a large number of people, not one of whom interfered to check the brother's honest indignation."
Margaretta still sat with the newspaper in her hand, when Grace Turner came in.
"Read that, Grace," she said, pointing to the paragraph, while her cheek glowed and the moisture dimmed her eyes.
Grace read it over hurriedly, and then looked into the face of her friend inquiringly.
"Nightly do I thank my Heavenly Father," said her gentle friend, "that He so mercifully prevented me from throwing myself away upon that wretched young man. I shudder, sometimes, when I have a more than usually vivid consciousness of the danger I have escaped. How blind and mad I was! It seemed as if I were in the center of a charmed circle, and impelled by an invisible power in one direction! Reason was powerless. The earnest entreaties and solemn admonitions of my parents did not linger in my mind a moment. They were scattered like autumn leaves in the breath of a tempest."
"I thank God for your escape, and also for my own," Grace replied earnestly. "I, but for the firmness of my parents in withdrawing me from the circle contaminated by his presence, would have been in a like danger with yourself. He sought my side early on the evening of the first party at your house, and held my delighted attention for nearly an hour. I never heard so musical a voice — I never felt so sudden an attraction. Truly he was a skillful charmer! It has since come to my ear that he first determined to win my heart — and then claim my hand. The prompt action of my father protected me. You, consequently, were the next selected victim. But, thank Heaven! we have both escaped! We are both free!"
Innocent were the heart-warm tears which mingled, as the lovely maidens embraced each other tenderly.
"I have a word for your ear," Grace said, in a whisper, half withdrawing herself, yet still clasping her arms about the neck of Margaretta. "Will you become my sister-in-law?"
The maiden started, paused a moment, and then turning toward her companion, half revealed her blushing face, while she imprinted a fervent kiss upon her lips. Then burying her face in her bosom, she wept anew, but her tears were tears of exquisite joy.
Need we longer hold the reader's attention? or tire him with an account of the last mirthful party of the season — a bridal party — where Margaretta was the blushing bride, and Henry Turner the worthy claimant of her hand? No! Enough has already been said. As for Grace, her father's judicious care over her has not been in vain. She, too, has found one worthy to win her and wear her. Mr. Turner is a happy man, and he deserves to be.
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