Trial and Triumph CHAPTER 4.
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A day had elapsed since Emerson despatched the letter to Mary, renewing his offer of marriage, and yet no answer had been received. Scarcely had that letter passed from his hands beyond recall, before he repented of what he had done — and from that time he was in a state of restless anxiety, which drew a veil between his perceptions and all that was lovely and attractive in the girl he had been so desirous to lead to the marriage altar. On the next morning, Miss Barker visited his store again. She looked even more beautiful in his eyes than on the day previous; and there was in her manner a winning grace which captivated his feelings. She lingered at his counter longer than usual, and, in going away, remarked that she would call again in the afternoon to look at some elegant fans which Emerson said he was about to open.
"Why did I act so precipitately?" said the young man to himself, with a troubled feeling, as the graceful form of the beautiful girl faded from his eyes, yet still remained distinctly present to his mental vision. "What could I have been thinking about? So much for giving way to a mere generous impulse!"
Someone entered the store at the moment. Emerson turned his head, and saw that it was the city despatch carrier. How suddenly his heart did throb. The man came back to where he was standing and presented him a letter. His hands shook as he broke the seal. A moment more, and the suspense was over. It was simply an order from a customer for goods.
For a short time, Emerson felt as weak as if just risen from a bed of sickness, and moving slowly back to a remote part of his store, sat down to recollect his thoughts and get control of his feelings.
"Why does she not answer my letter?" he said to himself. "What am I to understand by this delay? I am entitled to at least a prompt response. Or, does she mean to treat this generous offer with silent contempt!"
An indignant emotion swelled in the heart of the young man, as he gave utterance to the last sentence. For a few moments he remained in deep thought. Then turning to his desk, he took up his pen and wrote, hurriedly, these few words, addressed to Mary Lynn.
"Let me ask, as a favor, that you destroy my note of yesterday — and forget that it was ever received!"
Without pausing to reflect or change his suddenly formed purpose, Emerson dispatched this brief communication.
It was towards evening, on the day previous, when Mrs. Lynn repaired to the room of her daughter, in order to learn her decision in a matter that concerned them both so deeply. She found Mary sitting at a table, in the act of folding a letter which she had just written.
"Have you replied to Philip yet?" she asked.
"Yes, mother," said Mary, in a low, yet firm voice.
"How have you replied?" was the next, and eagerly asked question.
Without a word, Mary handed her mother the letter she had just written. Mrs. Lynn almost tore the folds in her eagerness to get at the contents. They were as follows, and were taken in at a glance: "I am touched by the manner in which you have renewed your offer of marriage, and thank you most sincerely for the generous sentiments expressed. But, deeply conscious that a union would fail to secure either your happiness or mine, I am constrained to adhere to my first decision. Philip! Try and forget me."
As the eyes of Mrs. Lynn rested on the last words, she tore the letter into ribbons, and scattered them passionately on the floor.
"And this is your love for me, foolish girl!" she exclaimed.
Mary trembled in every nerve, and shrunk beneath the angry gaze which was fixed upon her. She felt a strong impulse to say, in a spirit of self-sacrifice,
"I will accept his offer." But something held her back; and she remained silent.
"Is this a time to hesitate?" resumed the mother. "When it is in your power to save yourself and family from poverty, humiliation and distress — will you refuse in obedience to some girlish fancy? Happiness! How could you use the word in such a connection? Where do you expect happiness to come from?"
"I do not expect much in this life," replied Mary, tears falling slowly over her face. "But I would avoid an abyss of wretchedness, a single glance into which, has filled my heart with terror."
To this the mother answered only with an expression of impatience. In the silence that followed, both grew calmer. Mrs. Lynn then changed her mode of address, and sought to influence her daughter by appeals which the poor child found it almost impossible to resist.
Again the struggle was renewed in her mind, and once more she passed amid the clouds and shadows of doubt. A further time for reflection was granted. The anguish of the night that followed, Mary did not forget in many years. Brief was her sleep and sadly troubled; and the morning found her still unprepared to act. When she thought of accepting the offer — her whole nature appeared to rise up in opposition; and when she thought of her mother — her heart grew faint, and she shrank from the trial that was before her.
Twice during the morning had Mrs. Lynn appealed to Mary against a longer delay.
"It is not just to Philip to keep him thus in suspense," she said.
But Mary was not prepared to act.
It was about eleven o'clock, and the deeply tried girl sat writing another answer to Emerson's offer of marriage — it was the same as the first — when Mrs. Lynn burst into her room with a pale, agitated face, and an open letter in her hand.
"Mad girl! See what your delay has wrought!" she exclaimed, flinging the letter on the table before Mary, who caught it up eagerly. It was from Emerson, and read — "Let me ask, as a favor, that you destroy my note of yesterday — and forget that it was ever received!"
"Thank God!" murmured the tried and tempted girl, clasping her hands together, and lifting upwards her eyes that were suddenly filled with tears. "Thank God! It is over!"
Then covering her face with her hands, she sobbed until every nerve and muscle quivered in the intensity of her emotion.
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