The Young Lady CHAPTER 12.
Back to The Young Lady
Mr. Augustine, the merchant for whom Theodore Merlin had acted as clerk, for the past four years, was doing an extensive business, that yielded a large profit. The intelligence,industry and integrity manifested during that time by the young man, had so entirely won the confidence of Mr. Augustine, and caused him to repose so much in him, that he had begun seriously to think of offering him a limited interest in his business, as a means of permanently securing his services. He came to his store one morning, a few days after the occurrences at Mrs. Hartley's, as mentioned in the last chapter, with the intention of having some conversation with him on the subject.
A few observations, preliminary to its introduction, had been made, when the whole matter was interrupted by the entrance of Uncle Peter, who, after a words of general conversation, asked to have a private interview with Mr. Augustine. As soon as they were alone, he said —
"I wish to make a few confidential inquiries in regard to Theodore — having reference, particularly, to his capacity for merchandising. Is he, as far as his position with you gives you the power to judge — a man, who, if in business for himself, would be cautious, attentive, and governed by strictly prudential motives? I have my own opinion of him, but I wish yours. He failed once, I know, but he was not alone in that matter — and, besides, he went into business too young. You understand, of course, all I mean."
"I do," replied Mr. Augustine, "and can answer promptly. Mr. Merlin is a young man in whose general knowledge of business, and the principles upon which it should be conducted, I have great confidence. I think him prudent, and know him to be attentive and correct. He is decidedly the best clerk in my store: one whom, of all the rest, I would miss the most. Indeed, I do not see how I could manage without him."
"I shall have to take him from you, for all that, I believe, Mr. Augustine," Uncle Peter said, with a smile.
"How? What do you mean? was the merchant's quick interrogation.
"I mean, that I have pretty well made up my mind to give him, once more, a fair start in the world — another chance for himself. He has been pretty well tried, and so has that dear child, his wife; and the trial has proved them. There was more gold than dross there, Mr. Augustine!"
And the old man paused and smiled inwardly. Then he resumed —
"I have concluded to set him up in business, with a capital of twenty thousand dollars to begin with."
"Twenty thousand dollars!" exclaimed Mr. Augustine, looking at the old man, as if he thought him a little demented.
"Yes," was the quiet reply, "But don't you think that is enough?"
"Enough! Oh, yes. Certainly it is enough for any young man to begin with, if it is in cash."
"In cash? Oh, yes. It will be in cash."
Mr. Augustine looked puzzled.
"Who will furnish this amount of capital?" he asked, at length.
"I will do it, of course."
"You?" And the merchant looked still more mystified.
"Certainly I will! And twice that sum, if required," replied the old man, seemingly offended at the tone of incredulous surprise in which Mr. Augustine had spoken.
"But you are not worth forty thousand dollars," the merchant said.
"Really?" and Uncle Peter looked at him steadily.
"No one, I am sure, even dreamed it, if you are."
"Ha! ha!" chuckled the old man. "But I am serious in this matter, and therefore I will be serious with you. The truth is, that in the prime of life I made a handsome fortune in trade. Few, very few, however, knew this. I took good care to conceal it, and for sufficient reason. The new system of doing business disgusted me with merchandising, and I retired, investing my property in my own way. Since then, I have seen several new crops of 'merchant princes' spring up, flourishing their brief summer season, and then meet the sickle. Numbers of these have looked down upon me in their palmy days, but I kept on the even tenor of my way, caring little for any of their upstart notions. I knew where it would all end. But enough of this. I never had but one idol, and that is my niece, the wife of Theodore, From her cradle, I have loved her with fervent tenderness. As a little girl, she was all my heart could desire; but, after she was sent off to a finishing shop, or to a boarding school, as it was called, where were congregated some forty or fifty other daughters of 'merchant princes,' she became greatly changed, and what hurt me more than I can tell, ashamed of her old uncle, and his antiquated appearance and notions. But I did not love her less. After awhile she left school, and set up for a husband. She was soon caught up. Her father was too rich, and she too beautiful to escape. I do not complain of her choice. It has turned out exactly to my liking. But I did not relish the way they set out — young things like them — mere children, sporting in the giddy world of fashion at the rate of some five or six thousand dollars a year, when fifteen hundred would have been amply sufficient for them! They gave splendid parties, kept their carriage, and had half a dozen servants to wait upon their lord and ladyship. They thought themselves men and women. Cecilia had finished her education, and was fully prepared to take a high position in the world — and yet she in reality knew nothing by experience, the only true teacher. She had a rudimentary education, and that was all. As to the practical duties of life, in which all must, sooner or later, engage, she was as profoundly ignorant, as when she was but ten years of age. I saw all this, and, in my way, tried to make her see it. But I only gave offence, and made my presence unwelcome to her. But reverses came at last in the order of a wise and good Providence, and blessed reverses they have been to Cecilia, though painful, and full of strong trial. But they have developed the woman, the pure-minded, truthful, energetic woman. She has come from the fire, like gold.
"And now she shall take her true position in society. A few generous friends, such as Mrs. Hartley, and two or three others, who have discovered her real worth, and how beneficial would be her influence upon the circle from which adversity has excluded her, have been trying their best to restore her to that circle — but it contains too many such as Mrs. Melrose, who look only at the exterior — who estimate everyone according to his or her monetary value. Their effort was not successful. The cold shoulder was turned too often, and with too much feeling — and my poor, dear child, who had been dragged from her humble but happy home, reluctantly — found the large fashionable companies into which she was introduced, so unpleasant to her, that she determined not to yield to any inducement to attend them again. The palpable slights offered her at Mrs. Hartley's last party, determined me to do what I have only been waiting for a fit opportunity to do — add to her moral worth, that monetary consideration, lacking which, it seems, she is not to be permitted to associate, without being slighted and insulted by a few upstart pretenders, among those whose habits and tastes are congenial with her own.
"Her husband is only a clerk now. He must be made a merchant. That shall be done! They live in a very quiet, retired, and economical way. I have already purchased for them a house in a fashionable neighborhood, immediately opposite to Mr. Melrose's, and a cabinet maker and upholsterer are now engaged, under my direction, in fitting up the parlors and chambers, not 'magnificently,' as the phrase is, but with elegance suitable to the position they are about to take."
Mr. Augustine looked at Uncle Peter in silent astonishment for some minutes after the old man had ceased speaking. At length he said —
"Mr. Merlin is worthy of all you propose to do for him."
"So I think."
Another pause followed, and then the merchant resumed —
"I had intended this very day to offer Theodore an interest in my business, prompted, I must confess, by my fear lest I might lose his services, with which I am not at all prepared to dispense. The fact is, I do not see how I can do without him. He has become almost indispensable to me."
"To what extent did you intend offering him an interest?" asked Uncle Peter.
"To the extent of about one sixth."
"If the requisite capital were supplied, would you make him an equal partner?"
"That question I am not now prepared to answer," Mr. Augustine replied.
"Can you answer it in a week?"
"Yes."
"Very well. I will wait a week to hear from you. At the end of that period, I would like a decisive answer. If in the affirmative — accompanied with a statement of the amount of capital required."
One day, about two weeks from that time, a lady called in to see Mrs. Melrose.
"So you've got some new neighbors," the visitor said, after a little chit-chat on the weather, the opera, and other matters.
"Yes. But I've not yet learned their names. The house I am told has been bought and furnished in the most superb style. I wonder who they are?"
"Then you don't know?"
"Not yet. They moved in only yesterday, and I have not learned their names."
"They're old friends restored to us."
"Who?"
"The Merlins."
"No!" The color mounting instantly to the cheek and forehead of the speaker.
"It is, though. Why, haven't you heard the news?"
"What news?"
"Why, that Mrs. Merlin's queer old Uncle Peter, is really as rich as a Jew, and has given her fifty thousand dollars, all in cash."
"Impossible!"
"It's true as you are alive. About an hour ago, I went by the store where her husband has been clerk for some years past, and there is a new sign up — 'Augustine & Merlin.' My husband told me several days ago, that Mr. Merlin had become an equal partner in the business, and that he was in as fair a way as any man in the city, to make a splendid fortune in a few years."
"You really astonish me!" ejaculated Mrs. Melrose, breathing heavily. "I can hardly believe it! And it's all really so?"
"O yes. Not a doubt of it. There's Mrs. Merlin at her window now. Do you see?"
"Yes — its her sure enough! Well, for one, I can say that I heartily rejoice at her good fortune. If anyone deserves it, she does. I always liked her. She was a sweet tempered, lovely woman. But who would have thought, that singular old man, her uncle, could have been worth a dollar? I'm sure I never dreamed of such a thing. As rich as a Jew, you say? Strange! Some people couldn't bear him, but I always liked him well enough."
"Will you call upon Mrs. Merlin?" asked the visitor.
"Oh, certainly! Not call on an old friend like her? That would never do. As I have just said, she was always a particular friend of mine."
While this conversation was going on, Uncle Peter sat upon one of the sofas in Cecilia's handsomely attired parlors, his niece upon one side, and her youngest child upon the other.
"This, my dear Cecilia," the old man said, his voice trembling as he spoke, "is the happiest day of my life. I have for years looked eagerly forward to this period. To the time when you would become a woman indeed. When you should, in fact — "
"Have completed my education!" Mrs. Merlin, said, smiling through bright tear drops, as she leaned her head over upon the old man's shoulder, and looked him in the face.
"Yes. That is just what I wished to say. And yet, not exactly that either. For not yet, my dear child, have you completed your education. You have still much to learn. A wise man or a wise woman, never ceases to learn. The more they know, the more they find to learn. Knowledge is inexhaustible. But you have gained something solid. There is now strength and internal wealth and power, as well as external harmony and beauty. As well in the domestic realm, as in the social circle — you are now at home; and in the latter you will shine, I trust, a brighter star than ever — a star guiding to truth and virtue, not luring to a desolate coast."
"Dear Uncle! Do not talk so!" Cecilia said, looking into his face, seriously. "I am still but a weak and foolish child, more inclined to shrink away into the peaceful seclusion from which your generous love has taken me, than to claim that position in society, which you seem so desirous to have me occupy."
"You must not, you cannot shrink back," Uncle Peter replied. "Society has a claim upon you, and you must pay that claim. There are women who ought to immure themselves — the world would be the better for their absence from social life; but there are others, and you are one of them, who cannot do so and be innocent. Your influence is needed. The truth you have is required to oppose and counteract the false notions of life which everywhere abound. Enter your true sphere with a calm, brave heart. Be firm in your love of, and adherence to the truth. Let no temporizing consideration, ever cause you to waver from the utterance of right sentiments, when you find it incumbent on you to speak. There is power in calmly spoken truth. It is never uttered in vain."
"You make me tremble at the magnitude of my responsibilities," Cecilia said, half smiling, and yet with a serious countenance.
"In conscious weakness, there is often power. If you went into society as an eager, self-confident reformer, you would do but little good. But urged to your duty from a principle of right, your words will be like apples of gold in pictures of silver."
"I shall, of course," Cecilia said, after sitting silent for some time after this remark of Uncle Peter, "meet some of my old friends, who have slighted me in my humble condition, as for instance, Mrs. Melrose, who lives, I believe, immediately opposite us."
"Well. How will you treat them? Her, for instance?"
"Not with resentment, of course!"
"No, of course not. But will you receive them with your former intimacy?"
"No — for that would be hypocrisy. And besides, it is but just to them to make them feel the quality of their own acts; not for the sake of punishing them, but that they may be enabled to rise into higher sentiments. It is when we are in mental pain, that our moral perceptions are clearest, especially in pain that results from our own improper conduct."
"Truly said. But your virtue in this respect is about to be tried, for there is Mrs. Melrose and one of your fair-weather friends already at your door." As Uncle Peter said this the door bell rang.
Cecilia's heart beat violently at this. Uncle Peter saw that she was about to endure a trial.
"Let truth, and that charity which, while it sees another's faults, seeks to correct, not foster them — be your guide," he said, as he arose, and passed from the room.
"My dear Mrs. Merlin! How glad I am to find we have gotten you as a neighbor!" Mrs. Melrose said, a moment after Uncle Peter had left the room, coming in, and advancing quickly to Mrs. Merlin, making an offer to kiss her as she did so. But the too familiar and affectionate salutation was avoided — not in an abrupt and marked way, but sufficiently obvious to be perceived and understood.
The particulars of the interview, however, need not be given. Mrs. Melrose and her friend were received with lady-like, courteous attentions, but with no deceiving compliments, or apparent oblivion of all that had past. When they retired, it was with respect for Mrs. Merlin, and no very flattering estimation of themselves, in regard to their conduct towards her in times past. She had not offended them, but set them to thinking. Not by any allusions to the past, but by her manner, and the incidental utterance of sentiments somewhat unfamiliar to their ears. To all such, her conduct was the same.
But to Mrs. Hartley how different! She met her with tears and a warm embrace. They were bound together by new ties. Mrs. Mayberry and a few others, were received with like tenderness. These, from that time forth, composed a strong central power for good and true principles in the social circle of which they were members. Not only to herself, but to many others, were Mrs. Merlin's dark days of trial, blessed. She had come up from them with juster sentiments, and higher views of life and its duties — than she had ever before entertained. These she locked not up in her own bosom, but gave them forth freely; and they often fell as good seed upon good ground, producing fruit, some thirty some sixty, and some an hundred fold.
Back to The Young Lady