Book 3. (Un)common Sense - Chapter 4

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_ BOOK III. (UN)COMMON SENSE
CHAPTER IV

Although I had striven to keep our visit to New York a secret, it was hardly to be expected, in view of my quasi celebrity at home as a society character, coupled with my Aunt's eagerness for amusement, that our presence would long escape detection. As a fact, before the end of the first week we were inundated with invitations, many of which it was impossible to decline; and I finally gave up the struggle, and suffered myself to become a facile tool in the hands of my friends after night-fall, reserving merely the day-time for my financial investigations. I was the more willing to submit to this social demand, because I had a hope that I might meet with Mr. Prime at some of the houses to which we were asked. But though I constantly recognized, with a sense of danger that was yet delicious, faces that I had become familiar with down-town, his was never among them. I made no inquiries, but the mystery of his absence was finally explained.

"Miss Harlan," said my hostess to me at a brilliant dinner-party, "I had hoped to be able to present to you this evening my friend Mr. Francis Prime, who is altogether charming; but he writes me that he is not going anywhere this winter: he has in fact given himself up for the time being to business, and cannot break his rule even for me. Everybody is laughing over the idea of his doing anything except make himself agreeable. As he isn't here, let me tell you he is the worst flirt in town; and we all rather hope he won't succeed, for he fills his niche to perfection,--which is paying him a high compliment, I think. But there are other attractive men in the world besides Mr. Prime, and I am going to ask you, by and by, to tell me your opinion of our new Englishman, who is to take you in to dinner. He is only the Honorable Ernest Ferroll at present, but when his uncle dies he will be Duke of Clyde, my dear, and _on dit_ he is looking for a wife."

I found the Honorable Ernest decidedly agreeable. He had a fine figure, was six feet high, with blue eyes and a luxuriant chestnut beard. In his thirty years he had lived and travelled everywhere, reserving the States, as he called them, for a final jaunt preparatory to settling down. He was making merely a flying trip through the seaboard cities after a preliminary canter at Newport, previous to doing California and some big hunting in the "Rockies;" but later he intended to return and spend a season in New York and Boston society. His name was, for the moment, on every one's lips, and there was much quiet maternal inquiry as to how long the old peer was likely to last; for the Honorable Ernest was said to be rather short of money.

"He has a fine forehead, and if one likes beards, his is certainly a handsome specimen," said Aunt Helen ruminantly, as we were driving home. "I have no fancy for them myself, but it is always possible to shave them off; that's one comfort."

I divined of whom she was speaking, but made no response.

"How did you like him, Virginia?"

"Mr. Ferroll? I found him very entertaining," I replied.

"I thought he seemed decidedly impressed by you. He scarcely kept his eyes off you all through dinner. I don't blame him, for you were looking your best. Duchess of Clyde! You might do worse, Virginia. They say he is anxious to marry."

"So Mrs. Tremaine informed me."

"Did she really? That was very amiable of her, especially as you are a stranger, and there must be plenty of girls in whom she is interested, who are setting their caps for him. I could not help thinking at dinner what a handsome pair you would make."

"One would suppose you were in earnest from your serious tone, Aunt Helen."

"And so I am, so I am, quite in earnest. Of course I should wish to know a little more definitely about him before anything final was arranged. But from what I hear, there can be no question in regard to his title. If there were the slightest suspicion of anything out of the way concerning it, he would never have been at Mrs. Tremaine's, who is a very particular woman, and knows what she knows. He seems, so far as I could judge, to be a manly, right-minded young man. He told me that he shot three tigers in India, and I observed that he took scarcely any wine at dinner. It won't do though, Virginia, to dilly-dally, for I am given to understand that he leaves in a fortnight for California, to explore the West. But he is coming back to spend several months next winter, and if you do not throw cold water on him now, he may feel disposed to run on to Boston, in spite of the efforts that will be made to keep him here."

"I feel very certain," said I, "that he will come to Boston for a few days, as he has letters to Aunt Agnes."

"To your Aunt Agnes? What do you mean, child?" In her astonishment I thought she was going to bounce out of the carriage.

"I don't wonder you are surprised. Yes, the first question he asked was if I were not the niece of Miss Agnes Harlan, of Boston. It seems that she and his father made an ocean passage together a great many years ago, when they were both young, and the acquaintance has been kept up by correspondence ever since."

"Mercy on us! Your Aunt Agnes has never said a word to me about it."

"The Honorable Ernest's father is quite literary, and has written one or two books on philosophy, his son says."

"That accounts for it, of course. Well, well! to think of your Aunt Agnes being intimate with one of the nobility, and having never mentioned the subject! I have always given her credit for being an agreeable woman at bottom, if one could only forget her eccentricities. But this is extremely fortunate for you, Virginia. To be sure, there is no knowing how your Aunt will receive him, she is so hostile to every one who is not as queer as herself. But she must see, if she is not a fool, what a very advantageous match this would be for you. It could do no harm just to drop Mr. Ferroll a hint to humor her a little, and seem fond of serious subjects at the start, for if she should happen to take it into her head to ask him to stay at her house it would be very convenient."

These sentiments were frequently reiterated by Aunt Helen during the remaining weeks of our visit, and it must be allowed that the attentions of the Honorable Ernest soon justified her urgency, seeing that she really believed it was a matter of vital importance for me to become the future Duchess of Clyde. Nor was I at all sure myself, that if nothing else turned up I might not be tempted by the brilliancy of such a position. Not that I thought about it quite so definitely; but I was conscious of the exceptional advantages incident to high rank in England, to the extent that I did not treat his gallantries with marked indifference. I let him reveal himself for what he was, which is not possible without a certain degree of intimacy. Beneath his conventional ways I discovered a great deal of energy and decision. He was well-read, and had his own opinions. On many of the days when I did not go down-town, I took strolls with him in the Park and elsewhere. We discussed all sorts and kinds of subjects. We did not often agree, but that rather added to the interest of our intercourse than otherwise. I was a curiosity to him, he said. He complained that I was too radical and visionary in my ideas, and that I was quite different from his conception of American girls. To be sure, he said, I was ready to do things,--that is, go to walk with him, and banish Aunt Helen when he called; but he had been told that American girls knew nothing about politics or any serious matters, and were principally interested in the study of their inner consciousness as affected by man; whereas I was perpetually taking issue with him on questions of government policy and pauperism, driving him into holes in regard to the value of an hereditary nobility and the dis-establishment of the English Church. Women at home were not like that, he said. The men told them what to believe, and they stuck to it through thick and thin; but voluntary feminine ratiocination was the rarest thing in the world among his countrywomen. As for himself, he was a conservative,--a conservative without money. Money was all he needed to build up the splendid estates of Clyde, which had been slowly decaying for this lack during two generations. His chief ambition was to retouch and refurbish the broad domain of his inheritance, so that its lordly manors, ivy-mantled abbeys, and green meadows might know again the peace, poetry, and prosperity of an ideal English home. There would then for the lord of Clyde be happiness and romance equalled by none on earth. For, eager to benefit his fellow-men, he would have within the radius of his own estate a hundred cabins to call in play his invention or humanity; and with one's conscience at rest, he said, could there be a purer joy than to wander with her of one's choice under the ancestral elms of old England, with the September moon o'erhead?

This was the Honorable Ernest's dream; but to realize it, he must make money. He had come to the States, so he told me when we grew more intimate, in order to seek it. There were great chances in the far West for a shrewd man with a little capital, and to find some investment that promised large returns was the real object of his journey thither. Already, even since his arrival in New York, he had done extremely well. There was a smart (so he had heard him called) young fellow who had put him into several profitable speculations: very likely I might know him,--Roger Dale was his name; every one said he had made a lot of money, and was one of the coming men of Wall Street. I was kindly to consider this as a confidence, for he did not care to have it noised about that he was other than an idler here.

The Honorable Ernest Ferroll's attentions, as I have implied, grew apace from the evening of our introduction, and soon attracted remark. There was an instant recognition of the fitness of the match even from the most envious, and Aunt Helen was the recipient of numerous congratulatory innuendoes. The circumstance of his delaying the date of his journey a week confirmed the general impression of his serious views, and even I began to feel some pangs of conscience on the score of allowing him to fancy that if he did come to the point I should accept him eagerly. In contemplation of this emergency I felt that it was time for me to go home. We both would then have six months in which to think it over. When he should return from the West, it would be time enough for me to come to a decision as to whether I desired to re-gild the poetry of his English home. I was certain that if he insisted on an immediate answer my reply would be unfavorable. But I much preferred to defer any definite proposal; and accordingly, with all the tact at my command, I tried to avoid giving him an opportunity of being left alone with me for any length of time, without making it noticeable to him. Finally, as he seemed likely to become unmanageable despite my precautions, and as he put off again and again his day of departure, I resolved to take refuge in flight.

When I communicated this to Aunt Helen she said I was crazy. The idea of returning home just on the eve of realization seemed to her preposterous; she would not hear of it. But I was equally firm, and announced my intention of leaving on the morrow.

But before I went, I wished to have one more glimpse of the condition of the banking-house of Francis Prime and Company; and in order to make my scrutiny as thorough as possible I planned not to return until dark. I was curious to get a close look at my hero, and this seemed most feasible when he was leaving the office for the day. At that time there would be little likelihood of any one noticing me, if I stood by the door as he came out.

The afternoon passed without incident, save that I saw the Honorable Ernest Ferroll go into Mr. Dale's office, where he remained some time. He happened to meet me face to face on the street, but I justly had acquired by this time complete faith in my disguise. He betrayed no sign of recognition, and the flush that rose to my cheeks was a badge of quite unnecessary alarm. The hours slipped by, and the street grew still. The gas was lighted in the inner offices, and few but clerks, figuring up the profits or losses of the day, were left down-town. It was getting dark, and I was growing impatient. I sat down in the door-way of the building next adjoining, to rest. I had purposely made myself look as dilapidated as possible, and the natural presumption in the mind of any one would have been that I was friendless and needy, for I felt tired enough to make a weary air very natural at the moment.

As it chanced, my old enemy the policeman came sauntering by, and his cold eye fell on me with a chilling scrutiny. He stopped and said:--

"Didn't I tell you to move on, young woman? We don't want the likes of you loafing about here."

"I am tired and resting. I am waiting for some one," I answered, too much alarmed to take much account of my words.

"Yes, I dare say. He's forgotten to keep his engagement, and has gone home for the day. He asked me himself to tell you so. Come, move on, and don't let me see you hanging around any more, or I'll find an engagement for you that will last sixty days. Come, march!"

"Sir!" I exclaimed in a tone of indignation, having partially recovered my presence of mind, "what right have you to insult a lady? I tell you I have business here. If you don't instantly leave me, I will have you discharged to-morrow!"

"Do, my beauty! and lest you should oversleep yourself in the morning, and not be on hand to keep your word, come with me now."

He reached out his hand to seize me by the arm, and all my fears returned. But at that instant I heard a voice, and to my mingled relief and consternation the face of Francis Prime appeared over my tormentor's shoulder.

"What is the matter, officer?"

"Nothing, your honor, except this here young woman. She's for reporting me, she is, and losing me my situation. But as I happen to have seen her congregating by herself mostly every day for the past fortnight around these offices, I thought I'd run her in as a disreputable lot, and we'd see who's who."

"Oh, sir!--Mr. Prime!" I cried, forgetting my discretion in the excitement of the moment, "don't let him take me off! What he says isn't true. I'm a lady--that is, a poor girl who's perfectly honest, and is trying to earn her living."

"A nice lady you are, trying to lose hardworking folks their situations!"

"You called me by name," said Mr. Prime. "Do you know me? Come here Ike!" The dog was sniffing around my feet.

"Yes, sir--no--that is, I have seen you come out of your office."

He looked at me searchingly, and turned to the policeman. "What was she doing when you arrested her?"

"Indeed, sir," I broke in, "I was merely sitting here resting myself, when this--this man spoke to me. I was doing nothing wrong."

"You hear what she says, officer. What is your charge against her?"

"Promiscuous and unlawful congregating by herself, your Honor. When a young woman as swears she's honest, goes peeking into other folks's windows after dark, I always has my suspicions,--as you would too, if you had been in the business as long as I have. It wa'n't more than a week ago that I caught her with her nose against that plate-glass window of yours, and I told her then to move on. But she didn't; and the next thing we shall be hearing some fine morning, that there's been breaking and entering done."

Frightened as I was, I could not help blushing.

"Why were you looking into my office?" said Mr. Prime. "It doesn't seem a very serious offence," he added, turning to the officer.

"It ain't murder, and it ain't arson, that's flat," observed that functionary; "but we don't draw no such fine distinctions in our profession. If we did, the judges would have nothing to do."

The colloquy gave me time to think up an answer. I was in a tight place, and it would not do to mince matters. Mr. Prime turned back to me with an air of inquiry.

"I was wondering, sir, when I looked into your window, if there were any use in my applying for work."

"Are you in want?" he asked.

"I am trying to find a place. I am without occupation at present. The times are so hard it is almost impossible for an honest girl to find anything to do. I only want a chance."

He looked at me with a closer interest. Of course my voice and my features, after the first impression produced by my needy dress, must have puzzled an observer so intelligent as Mr. Prime.

"I believe the girl's story," he said to the policeman. "I feel sure she is honest."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "A moment ago it was she was a lady, and waiting for somebody. But I ain't particular, if you are ready to go bail for the young woman. Of course I'm only doing my duty; and if you are satisfied, your Honor, don't blame me if you find your watch missing before you get home. I always keep a pair of twisters alongside of mine; and that's why I thought she might be safer with me than with you."

With this oracular utterance, the official turned on his heel and departed, to my intense relief. I was fairly overcome with dread and mortification, and my eyes fell under the interested look of my rescuer.

"You seem distressed and tired, poor girl. This street is no place for you at such an hour. You say you are in search of work?"

"Yes, sir," I answered faintly.

"Humph! Can you write?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Come to my office then, to-morrow morning, and I may be able to find something for you to do. And now go home as fast as you can. Stop, here is a trifle for your fare. Good-night."

He raised his hat in recognition of the grateful glance from my eyes. My cheeks had felt like live coals as I took the coin he held out to me. But I chose to continue the deception. It was harmless; and to disclose the fact that I was other than I seemed would only make matters worse. There was too, even while he was still present, an element of amusement to me in the whole affair, which when he was gone, and I knew that I was out of danger, speedily became predominant in my mind. Here was an opportunity sent by Providence to supervise my banking scheme without risk of discovery, if only I had the courage to take advantage of it. The idea pleased me the more I thought it over, for I had little doubt that Mr. Prime intended to find employment for me in his own office. I felt that it would amuse me immensely to become a female clerk for a few weeks and see the practical working of a business house, and above all others of this particular one. I felt sure that I could prove myself tolerably useful as well, thanks to my experience under Mr. Chelm; and there was no knowing what might come of it all if I should develop a taste for banking. The world's opinion to the contrary notwithstanding, I might take it into my head to reveal my identity, and become an active partner in the concern.

Even to such extremes did my imagination carry me before I reached home. But I was clear in my mind about one thing. I meant to present myself at the office in the morning, and if the chance were given me, to apprentice myself for a while. It was indeed a strange freak of destiny, that he should have been confronted by me with the same appeal that I had heard him make so short a time ago. Perhaps it were better called a strange freak of my caprice, for though of course my position was not premeditated, the words that I said to him were necessarily suggested by the analogy of the situation. I felt therefore an obligation to let his humanity work itself out,--which gave comfort and encouragement to my quixotism.

The only obstacles of serious importance to this step would be the difficulty of disposing of Aunt Helen, and as a corollary thereto the necessity of some slight deceit on my part to account for my continuance in New York. But having gone so far in the matter, I did not suffer myself to be deterred by trifles. I had, in speaking of our return to Aunt Helen this morning, dwelt on the importance of not leaving certain domestic affairs longer unattended to; and it now occurred to me to compromise with her by suggesting that she should go home, and leave me with my maid in our lodgings, which were well known to her as thoroughly quiet and respectable. As was perhaps to be expected, she resisted this proposal energetically; but as I was resolved to get rid of her at any cost, I took an obstinate stand, against which tears and flattery were equally unavailing. I made her return a condition of my remaining; otherwise I should leave the Honorable Ernest to the mercy of the maidens of New York. She must take her choice. If she decided to stay I should go home; and the only possible chance of my becoming Duchess of Clyde rested on her going home without me. The alternative was too dreadful for her to withstand my pertinacity. She wished me to remain, and rather than have her matrimonial project blocked she preferred to yield, though it was not until she had made a last appeal on the score of the extreme impropriety of my continuing to stay in New York alone.

When she had finally consented to take her departure, I wrote a note to the Honorable Ernest and to one or two other friends, announcing that we had suddenly been called home, and then I sat up far into the night putting my new-fangled wardrobe into a plausible condition. To be patched but neat seemed to me the most endurable and ingratiating, and at the same time an equally secure guise in which to figure, and I devoted my energies to accomplishing that result before morning. On that same day also, to my great relief, I succeeded in bundling off Aunt Helen without further ado, and the field was cleared for operations. I should have to trust my maid to some extent, and possibly to change my lodgings; but otherwise I had swept away all obstacles to the indulgence of this new piece of eccentricity.

It occurred to me, on the way down-town, that Mr. Prime would doubtless make some inquiries as to my previous history and present circumstances, and that I must go a step further and concoct some rational story in order to carry out my deception successfully. I was correct in my surmise. He received me with kindness, and showing me into his private office asked a few direct questions, which I answered to his satisfaction seemingly. I represented myself as one of that much-to-be pitied class, referred to by Mr. Chelm, of well-educated but impecunious young people, who only needed employment to be comfortable and happy. I had no parents, nor brothers and sisters, and up to this time had supported myself by teaching and by copying; but the stress of the times had little by little cut off the sources of my income, and when he met me yesterday I had sunk down exhausted and in despair over the prospect of finding anything to do. Such was my pitiful tale.

Fortunately my handwriting did not require to be explained away or disguised like the rest of me. It spoke for itself, being legible and bold, somewhat resembling a man's in the latter particular. Mr. Prime looked pleased as he glanced at the specimen I prepared for his inspection, and I felt that the battle was won. A few minutes later I was engaged as a confidential clerk at a modest salary. My duties for the time were to answer letters, and to copy out and arrange sets of figures at his direction; and he suggested that I should as soon as possible learn short-hand.

I could scarcely help laughing aloud as I sat and tried to realize my new position. Mr. Prime's business was as yet, I soon perceived, lamentably small. The office was commodious, but my employer had besides me only a book-keeper to help him,--a gaunt, withered-looking man of sixty. This personage glanced at me now and again over his spectacles suspiciously, and would, I dare say, have joined hands with my enemy the police officer, as to the probabilities affecting my moral character. Everything else was done by Mr. Prime, who I was pleased to notice was as spruce as ever in his personal appearance. His gloves, his boots, his cravats, and Ike, the beautifully ugly Ike, were as irreproachable as ever.

It is wonderful how easily one grows accustomed to almost any change of circumstances. Of course the first few days of my new life were excessively strange, and I passed through various stages of alarm and mortification at my own hardihood in entering upon it. But after the first week I settled down to my work with interest and composure, no longer disturbed by a fear of detection. For so skilful was my disguise that during that time I ran the gantlet of the glances both of Roger Dale and the Honorable Ernest, without exciting the suspicions of either. I am not sure that the former did not feel as if he had seen my face before, for he stared at me wonderingly, as it seemed to me, and for a moment I feared that all was over; but he turned carelessly away, and observed to my employer, loud enough for his words to reach my ears,--

"Nice looking girl that, Prime. If you don't look out, I'll offer her double the salary across the street."

This observation directed all eyes to me, for there were several men in the group, and among them my English admirer; but in his case, at least, the adage regarding the blindness of Cupid was strikingly illustrated, for though he examined me through his lorgnette with evident admiration, he contented himself with echoing the sentiments of his financial guide, only a little more euphemistically:--

"She's a daisy, Prime, a daisy. Reminds me too of some girl I've seen somewhere. I've travelled so much, and seen so many girls, I'm always noticing likenesses. Jolly expression that, 'She's a daisy.' Only heard it yesterday; but I'm 'catching on' fast. How's Denver to-day?"

The Honorable Ernest seemed in truth to be "catching on" fast. From the remarks that were let fall by persons in the office, I judged that he must have made a great deal of money already under the tuition of Roger Dale. The success of the latter was on every one's lips. He was coining thousands daily, and was as shrewd as he was successful, according to the verdict of those whose sayings I overheard. He was not very often in our office, and I was glad to see that no intimacy existed between him and Mr. Prime. Hints dropped in my presence by some of our less flighty looking customers revealed to me the fact that there were those who predicted for him a fall as rapid as had been his rise. But I could not help feeling a little of my former jealousy return, as I noted how slack and unprofitable our business was compared with his.

I tried my best to make myself of use; and my efforts were quickly appreciated, for new and more important work was intrusted to me, under the pressure of which I felt at first completely tired out at night, and thankful to get to bed. As regards my domestic arrangements, I decided finally not to change my lodgings, but by dint of explicit instructions to my landlady and maid, I managed to have my presence in the house concealed from those of my acquaintances who called. There are always a certain number of people who do not hear one is in town until after one has left. It was against such that I needed to take precautions; and after the impression was duly established that I was really gone, I breathed freely once more, and gave myself up to my business with little concern as to the discovery of my innocent deceit. I had to frame such replies to Aunt Helen's letters and questions as the sensitiveness of my conscience would permit.

Mr. Prime, in his effort to build up his business, was evidently most diligent and painstaking, and, as I had observed during my early investigations, usually stayed at the office until late. Of course I never left before him, and perhaps it was not unnatural that after a time we got into the way of walking up-town together. One day he happened to come back for something just as I was setting out, and he walked along by my side. Our ways lay in the same direction, and it was the habit of each of us to walk home for the sake of the exercise. It seemed to me in no way dangerous or unfitting that I should be otherwise than at ease in my conversation with Mr. Prime; indeed, I was soon conscious of a desire to mystify him by giving him a glimpse of my acquirements. I branched off from the current events of the day to poetry and art, and to my gratification I found that I had touched a sympathetic chord in my companion, which not even wonder could restrain from responding. After this it became Mr. Prime's wont to wait for me occasionally, and by the time I had been in his employ six weeks, this became his daily practice. Our intimacy was a curious one, for of course we avoided all personal and social topics,--I from necessity, and he doubtless because of the difference in our positions which he supposed to exist. But on this very account I got a truer impression of his real self, for he did not feel the hamper of conventions in our talk, and hence was not affected. He said freely what he thought and believed; and underneath the tendency to regard everything in a mezzo-cynical, mezzo-humorous light there cropped out from time to time evidences of his earnestness and enthusiasm, which as our friendship strengthened were less and less subordinated to raillery and chaff. Not a whit inferior in cultivation to myself, he possessed besides a keen analytic sense which I envied, especially as I felt that it did not steel him against ideal considerations.

Meanwhile my usefulness at the office was constantly increasing; for my employer now made me devote my time to various sorts of financial matters, and I could see plainly that he was puzzled at my aptness. He expressed the belief that I must have had experience elsewhere, for I acted, he said, as if I had been accustomed to handle large sums all my life. He offered presently to raise my salary, but I declared that what I received was sufficient for my needs. Much of the time I could see that Mr. Prime was worried, for business though active was in an unsettled state, and I knew from the books that already his capital was somewhat impaired. As I have mentioned, he was studiously devoted to his work, and the only recreation he allowed himself was his daily walk with me. I often heard Mr. Slayback, our book-keeper, into whose good graces I managed to ingratiate myself at the end of a fortnight, sigh over the unremitting industry of our employer, and declare that he would break down in health before a twelve-month was past.

"He will succeed first, and then he can afford to be an invalid," I answered; but acting on the old man's solicitude, I did all I could to lighten the load.

One afternoon, as we were walking home, I noticed that Mr. Prime seemed especially grave and moody, and I ventured to inquire if anything serious had happened.

"Oh, no; a mere trifling loss, that is unimportant in itself, but serves to impress upon me still more deeply how easy it is to imagine and difficult to perform," he answered. "It seems the simplest thing in the world to make a fortune honestly, until one attempts it."

"But why are you so anxious to make a fortune?" I asked after a silence.

"Anxious to make a fortune? Because it is my ambition; because I have always had the desire to try and spend a fortune well. Money is the greatest power in the world, and every man who is strong and vital seeks to acquire it. Why did you ask?"

"I have sometimes thought that a large fortune would be an unwelcome responsibility," I said, noticing how much his words resembled what my father had said to me. "It would be so puzzling, I should think, to spend it wisely."

"And for that reason, would you have men afraid to try? How else is the world to progress? Those who have leisure to think, are those to set mankind an example," he replied, with a fierceness that made his face glow.

My own heart welled to my lips at my companion's fervor. He however, ashamed as it were at the extravagance into which he had been betrayed, turned the conversation with some careless jest, and for the rest of the afternoon talked a badinage that did not deceive me.

"At least, let me say that I am very sorry you are worried," I added.

In the indulgence of his subsequent gayety, I noticed that Mr. Prime seemed to play the dandy more consummately than usual, as though he were reflecting that come what might he would go down as he had declared, with a smile on his face and a flawless coat on his back. I had never known him to be more amusing and nonchalant than in the half hour which followed his previous outburst. When we reached a flower-stand at the corner of the streets where our ways divided, he asked me to wait a minute, and, selecting a boutoniere and a beautiful white rose, he presented the latter to me.

"You have saved me from much weariness during the past two months, Miss Bailey," he said. "This flower may brighten the dinginess of your lodgings."

Alice Bailey was the name by which I was known to Mr. Prime. I was free to take his words in any sense I chose, and believe that they had reference to my work at the office or to my companionship, or to both. In acknowledgment of his politeness I dropped a little curtsy, as I might have done to any one of my real acquaintances on a similar occasion; and as I did so, I noticed that he regarded me with a strange look of admiration.

"You did that," said he, "as if you had never done anything else; and yet, I dare say you were never in a ball-room in your life."

"Never," I answered with a smile.

"Adaptiveness, that is the word. Our people are so adaptive. But there is something about you that puzzles me more every day, Miss Bailey. Excuse my detaining you, but I am in a philosophical vein for the moment and need an audience. I would walk home with you, but you have always forbidden me that pleasure. Frankly, you have puzzled me; and that curtsy caps the climax. There are certain things adaptiveness cannot accomplish, and that is one of them."

"Have you no faith in the child of Nature?" I asked archly.

"I had none in that sense a few moments ago, but all my theories are falling to the ground. Forbear though, Miss Bailey," he said with a sudden air of sportive mystery, "you cannot afford to ruin your chances of success for the sake of a merely ornamental gift. You play the _grande dame_ so well, that you are sure to reap the penalty of it. Forbear, I warn you, before it is too late. I know of what I speak. I have been a gentleman for years, and I am acquainted with all the ins and outs of the calling. It is a poor one; avoid it. But you will pardon this somewhat lengthy monologue. I have kept you from your supper. Good-night. Come, Ike."

As I tripped across the street, with all the grace and elegance at my command, I could not resist the temptation to look once over my shoulder. Mr. Prime stood watching me just where I had left him, and he raised his hat as he caught my eye, with the style of a cavalier saluting his mistress. A pretty way forsooth, thought I, for an aristocratic banker to part from his hired clerk! But I felt sure that my secret was safe.

Our relations were from this day on a different footing, or rather it was apparent to me that Mr. Prime was very partial to my society. I remember that he asked me to walk with him on the following Sunday, and we spent the beautiful spring morning in sauntering about the Park. I felt a little sorry for my companion that I should have to appear so unfashionably attired, but I did not dare to do otherwise. He seemed wholly indifferent to the circumstance, however, and I think the hours flew by too quickly for us both. I ascribed my own sensations of happiness to the loveliness of the weather.

So too it became of frequent occurrence for Mr. Prime to bring me flowers or books, and our Sunday stroll was repeated again and again. As the weather grew more balmy we substituted for it expeditions to the various resorts in the environs of the city, where we could catch a whiff of the ocean breeze, or refresh our eyes with a glimpse of the green country. These days were so pleasant to me that I avoided thinking what was to be the outcome of them. They could not last forever. Already Aunt Helen's letters expressed an alarm at my long absence, which I was only too well aware I should soon find it impossible to allay. My salvation was the fact that she believed Mr. Ferroll to be still in town: I had failed to tell her of his departure for the West about ten days after she left. To my letters to her, which were necessarily laconic, I appended as an invariable postscript, "Not yet," by which she would understand that he had not yet put the decisive question; and sometimes when I feared lest her patience might be exhausted, I would add, "but I have hopes," which was sure to reconcile her for the time being to my staying away a little longer. To be sure I was my own mistress, but I was well aware, notwithstanding, that Aunt Helen was fully capable of coming on some fine day, with horse, foot, and dragoons, and putting a summary end to my financial idyl.

I began also to put the question to myself, why I wished to remain in New York. I had accomplished all that was possible, without revealing my identity, in the way of supervising the affairs of Francis Prime and Company. It was clearer to me than ever that a fortune could only be made by slow degrees, and that years must elapse doubtless before my protege would attain his ambition. The letters forwarded by Mr. Chelm, and my own observations on the spot, told me that the affairs of the firm were only moderately prosperous. Especially was I convinced of the truth of this last statement, from the fact that my employer had of late mixed himself up in certain speculations with Mr. Dale, from which he had made profits sufficient to recoup his previous losses and still show a balance in his favor. But I knew that he, as well as I, mistrusted the soundness of the firm across the street, and felt that in yielding to the temptation of following its lead he was running the risk of serious losses. Mr. Prime confessed as much to me, and declared that after a single venture to which he had already committed himself was terminated, he intended to have no more transactions with Roger Dale.

It was indeed difficult to say why I still continued to remain in Mr. Prime's employ. Although, as I have indicated, I put the question to myself sometimes, I shrank from doing so, and felt disposed to let the future take care of itself, provided I was permitted to enjoy the present undisturbed. But this was beginning to be more and more difficult. There were interests at home which could not be longer neglected without my incurring blame. I belonged to societies and clubs at which my presence was required. Then, too, it would not be many weeks before the Honorable Ernest would return to pay his promised visit to Aunt Agnes, and I felt far from sure that I should not make a mistake to discourage his advances. There was a wide difference between the sphere of an Alice Bailey and the Duchess of Clyde.

But still I delayed my return. How well I recall one Saturday afternoon in June, when as by a common instinct business men seemed to close their doors earlier than usual, and Mr. Prime and I set off to enjoy a half holiday in our usual fashion. He was at the height of good spirits, for the affair in which he was interested jointly with Roger Dale was doing wonderfully well, and the profits promised to be enormous. Absorbed in conversation, we failed to notice the close proximity of a rapidly driven horse, from under the hoofs of which I escaped by a mere hair's breadth. It was a trivial incident in itself, but the exclamation which my companion made, and the eager impetuous way in which he expressed himself regarding my safety, served to open my eyes to the real condition of affairs between us. There was no use in my seeking longer to conceal from myself the reason for my remaining in New York. It was Mr. Prime's society that held me there, and decency bade me to put an end to our relations at once, but on his account far more than on my own; for while I flattered myself that my heart was untouched save by the emotion of a warm friendship, I could not dismiss the conviction that his feeling for me was rapidly approaching the point at which friendship becomes an impossibility. I must go, and immediately. It was foolish and culpable of me to have stayed so long. A girl in the first blush of maidenhood might excuse herself on the score of not recognizing the signs of a more than Platonic interest, but for me such an apology could not be other than a subterfuge. Mr. Prime had worry enough already, and why add to it the pain of an unrequited attachment? I would go on Monday. To-morrow we were to walk once more, and I would frame some excuse, which he would never suspect, for severing our connections.

But parallel with these reflections was a certain element of curiosity in my mind as to whether Francis Prime would be ever so far carried away by his liking for me as to ask me to become his wife,--me, Alice Bailey, his poor, hired clerk! I wondered that I should be especially interested in the matter, for its ludicrous side was at once apparent; that is to say, the situations portrayed in cheap contemporaneous fiction, of beautiful working-girls led to the altar by the sons of rich bankers, immediately suggested themselves. But nevertheless the thought haunted me, and I did not feel altogether the degree of contrition at the idea of having captivated him that I perhaps should have done. If it was not for myself alone that he loved me, what was his love worth? If the lowliness of my position deterred him from asking me to marry him, I was wasting sympathy upon him, and taking needless precautions. The idea roused me strangely, and I found myself taking sides against myself in an imaginary debate as to the probabilities of his conduct. It made every vein in my body tingle, to think that birth or fortune might be able to affect his decision; and it seemed to me, as I sought my pillow that night, that I almost hated him.

In the morning I decided that I had probably overestimated his feelings toward me, and that although I had better go home on the following day, there was no reason why I should treat Mr. Prime other than as usual. He was not in love with me; or if he were, he was not man enough to acknowledge it. I should refuse him if he did; but I hated to feel that I had been expending so much friendship on a man whose soul could not soar beyond birth and fortune. Had he not told me that money was the greatest power on earth? So, too, he had said to my face that a lady could not be made, but was born. I was irrational, and I was conscious of being irrational; but I did not care. I would make him wince at least, and feel for a time the tortures of a love he did not dare to express. Ah! but such a love was not worthy of the name, and it was I who was become the fitting subject for the finger of derision, because I had put my faith in him.

These were the thoughts that harassed me before I met Mr. Prime on Sunday, and we turned our steps with tacit unanimity toward the Park. I walked in silence, chafing inwardly; and he too, I fancy, was nervous and self-absorbed, though I paid little heed to his emotions, so complex were my own. We had not proceeded very far before he turned to me and said simply,--

"What is the matter? Have I offended you in any way?"

"Do you think then, Mr. Prime, that my thoughts must always be of you?" I answered.

"Alas! no. But something has happened. You cannot deceive me."

I was silent a moment. "Yes, something has happened. I am going to leave New York."

"Going to leave New York!" he stopped abruptly, and looked at me with amazement.

"Yes," I said quietly. "My aunt has sent for me, and it is imperative that I should go. She is in trouble and needs me. It is a long story, and one with which I will not weary you. It is not necessary that you should be burdened with my private affairs; you have enough troubles of your own. Let us change the subject, please. But you will have to let me go to-morrow, Mr. Prime. I am very sorry to inconvenience you, but, as I have already said, it is imperative."

My words were so cold that I could see he was puzzled, and my heart softened toward him a little. At least he had been kind to me. He walked on for a few moments without speaking. We entered the Park, and turned into a path where we should be unobserved.

"I have no right to inquire into your private affairs, I well know," he said presently, "but I wish you would let me help you."

"I am sure of your sympathy, Mr. Prime; and if you could be of any service in the matter, I would call upon you."

"Where does your aunt live?"

"I had rather not answer that question."

He looked grave, and as I glanced at him a frown passed over his face. "He is thinking doubtless," thought I, "that it is I who have done something wrong, and am trying to mislead him; or he is reflecting how wise he was not to offer himself to a woman with whose antecedents he is unacquainted. He mistrusts me at the first hint of suspicion, and would sacrifice his love on the altar of conventionality." Curiously enough, I seemed to take it for granted that he was in love with me.

"And you must go to-morrow?" he asked.

"To-morrow, without fail."

"But you will return soon?"

"I do not expect to return at all."

"Impossible! You cannot go!" he said with a sudden outburst; but he corrected himself in a restrained voice: "I do not mean, of course, that you cannot go if you choose."

"I am quite aware, Mr. Prime, that this will cause you great annoyance," said I. "If it were possible for me to remain until you could find another assistant without neglecting duties that are still more important, I would do so."

He made a motion as though to wave that consideration aside. "No one can take your place. But that is not all. Let us sit down, Miss Bailey; I have something to say to you. I had meant to say it very soon, but it must be said now or never. I love you!"

I trembled like a leaf at his avowal,--I did not even yet know why.

"I love you from the bottom of my soul," he said once more, and now his words were poured out in a passionate flood, to which I listened with a strange joy that thrilled me through and through.

"I have never loved before. You are the first, the very first woman in the world who has ever touched my heart. I did not know what it was to love until a few days ago, and I could not understand how friendship should seem so sweet. But last night, when I saw you almost trampled under foot and swept away forever from me, I knew that what I had begun to guess, was the truth."

"It is impossible for you to love me. I am merely a poor friendless girl, without fortune or position," I murmured.

"Yes, yes, you are; and that is the strange and wonderful part of it all. I love and adore you, in spite of theory and principle and the judgment of wise men. But I defy their laughter and their sneers, for I can point to you and say, 'Show me her match among the daughters of the proud and wealthy. She is the peer of any.' I disbelieved in the power of Nature to imitate the excellence of woman, and I am punished for my lack of faith. And how sweet and exquisite the punishment, if only, Alice, you will tell me that my prayer is granted, and that you will be my wife."

"Ah! but I should only be a burden to you. I can bring you nothing, not even an untarnished name, for though you see me as I am, you do not know what others whose blood is in my veins have done."

"What is that to me?" he cried fiercely; "it is you that I love!"

"But you are striving to become rich. It is your ambition. Have you not told me so? Money is the greatest power on earth. You said that, too."

"And it was a lie. I had never loved. What is money to me now? But, no, I am wrong. It _is_ my ambition, and without your sympathy and affection I shall never attain it."

He gazed at me imploringly, and yet though my eyes were overflowing with tears in the fulness of my new-found happiness, I still shook my head.

"Listen to me, Mr. Prime," I said quietly, after a short silence between us. "I am very grateful to you--how could I be otherwise?--for what you have said to me. Yours were the sweetest and most precious words to which I ever listened. You have asked me to become your wife, because you loved me for myself alone: that I can be sure of, since I have nothing but myself to bring you. It makes me more happy than I dare think of; but in spite of all you have said to me, I cannot accept your sacrifice. I cannot consent to mar your hopes for the future with all I lack. You think you love me now, and I believe you; but the time might come when you would see that you had made a mistake, and that would kill me. I am not of your opinion as to the power of Nature to imitate the excellence of woman. You were right at first. Ladies are born, not made; and were you to marry in the station of life in which you see me, the scales would some day drop from your eyes, and you would know that you had been deceived by love. No, Mr. Prime, I should not be worthy to become your wife were I to accept your offer. The difference between us is too great, and the banker and his hired female clerk will never be on an equality to the end of the world. I am sorry--ah, so sorry!--to wound you thus, but I cannot permit you to throw your life away."

"Then you do not love me?" he asked, with a piteous cry.

"Love you?" I gave a little joyous laugh before I said, "I shall never love any one else in the world."

It would take too long to repeat the efforts Mr. Prime made to lead me to reconsider my resolution. Meanwhile I was racking my brains to find a way of letting matters rest without depriving him utterly of hope. As he said, the knowledge that my heart was his only increased the bitterness of his despair. Happy as I was, I felt bewildered and uncertain. I shrank instinctively from revealing my identity at once. I wanted time to think. I scarcely knew the character of my own emotions. At one moment I blushed with a sense of the web of deceit that I had wound about him, and at another with the joyful consciousness of our mutual love. What would he say when the truth was made known to him? Ah! but he loves me for myself alone, was the answering thought.

I had continued to shake my head as the sole response to his burning petition; but at last I turned to him and said that if he were content to wait, say a year, and let his passion have time to cool, I might be less obdurate. But in the interim he was to make no effort to discover my whereabouts, or to follow me. He must not even write to me (perhaps I had a secret idea that too many letters strangle love), but pursue the tenor of his way as though I had never existed. If at the end of that time he still wished me to become his wife, it might be I should no longer refuse. It was better for us both, I said, that we should part for the present. He must consider himself free as air, and I should think him sensible if on reflection he strove to banish me from his thoughts.

"A year is a long time," he answered.

"Long enough, almost, to make a fortune in, as well as to become wise and prudent."

By making him wait, I should let the banking-scheme develop itself a little further.

When by dint of my refusal to yield further he was forced to consent to these terms, we gave ourselves up to enjoyment of the few hours which we could still pass together. I talked and laughed, over-bubbling with happiness; but he would sigh ever and anon, as though he felt that I were about to slip from his sight to return no more. Once in the gayety of my mood I called Ike to me, and stooped to pat his pudgy sides. "Ike the imperious, beautifully ugly Ike!" I cried with glee, and with a daring that but for its very boldness might have disclosed all.

But my lover was in no mood to make deductions. "You seem so joyous, Alice, one would suppose that you were glad to leave me."

"I am joyous,--yes, very joyous,--for I have been brave enough to save the man I love from a _mesalliance_." _

Read next: Book 3. (Un)common Sense: Chapter 5

Read previous: Book 3. (Un)common Sense: Chapter 3

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