 | CHAPTER VI. Bankrupt stories |  |
6. CHAPTER VI.
CONTAINS REVELATIONS OF GREAT DELICACY.
THE firm of Tremlett & Tuck being composed of two
very sedate old bachelors they imparted a conservative
and orderly character to all the clerks in their service, which
rendered them noticeable for their uniformity and precision
of habits, surrounded as they were, on every side, by changelings
and all manner of hurry-skurry people. The reader
will not be surprised, therefore to find that Mr. Bates still acted
as their head book-keeper, and that Jeremiah had been gradually
promoted, step by step, and not in a disorderly and hurried
manner, until he occupied the responsible post of cashier
of the house. Several of the younger clerks had in the mean
time, however, entered into business, and compromised with
their creditors some half a dozen times; and some of them had
come back to fill their old stations after ruining their friends
and involving themselves in debt to a very large amount.
But ups and downs belong more particularly to the mercantile
profession than to any other, and such changes do not
break many hearts, because they are looked upon as matters
of course.
Mr. Bates' salary was as fixed as his habits, but as it had
no particular influence on natural causes, his family and his
wants had increased to an alarming extent in spite of the
stationary nature of the income that was to supply them; and
had consented to receive a few boarders into her family, professedly
for the sake of society, but in truth to help educate
the children. This was a praiseworthy and excellent motive
but some people have a horror of being thought useful and
honest, perhaps from modesty, let us think so at least, as it
is best always to put the fairest construction upon the motives
of others, that they will allow. As Mr. Bates was a good
carver and Mrs. Bates had a peculiar faculty in giving a genteel
air to her table, they gave great satisfaction to their boarders,
which is a fact of sufficiently rare occurrence to entitle
it to a special notice, for it is well known that landladies and
their boarders always make it a point to be dissatisfied with
each other.
Jeremiah had gone to board with Mrs. Bates, and soon after
he had taken possession of his room, Huldah Hogshart, who
had come to New York to learn the art of making ladies dresses
with a fashionable mantua-maker in Broadway, at the
recommendation of Mr. Tremlett, also took board with Mrs.
Bates; whereupon Jeremiah, resolved upon leaving the house
lest people should make scandalous remarks about the young
lady and himself, but as he made known his scruples to Mrs.
Bates she, after much debate, succeeded in convincing him
that he was exceedingly prudish; and by assuring him that it
would hurt the credit of her house if it were known that
her husband's intimate friend had left it, he consented to remain.
But we wish the reader to understand that he conducted
htmself in the most exemplary manner towards her,
although he felt a growing kindness for her which at times
almost overmastered his discretion. Miss Hogshart was by
no means so strict a disciplinarian as her father, and she was
guilty of some wide departures from the rules of her sect
which would have given the conscientious farmer much concern
of mind if he had witnessed them. For instance, she
had twice accompanied Jeremiah to a presbyterian meeting,
where there was much profane music elaborated by fiddles
and cornets-a-piston; and she had looked with a manifest
liking upon a gentleman and lady, decorated with a wicked
profusion of spangles and quite an unnecessary economy of
clothing, who performed certain mysterious and highly figurative
evolutions, the object of which she did not fully comprehend;
but they were called in the bills a `grand pas de
deux.' She moreover showed a decided fondness for decorating
her person with very bright colors, but Jeremiah thought
she had never looked so lovely as when he first saw her, clad
in her blue striped long-short preparing supper over a cheerful
hickory fire. But she was exceedingly neat in her person,
healthy and good-natured, and so fond of Jeremiah that he
could not but love her with sincerity and earnestness, although
he had never told her so in direct words; and he was
exceedingly puzzled to know how to get about it. It was a
subject on which he could not well ask advice of any of his
acquaintance, and as he never read novels wherein he might
have found a great variety of examples of declaring love, he
was in great perplexity. He had several times been on the
point of asking John, who still continued his friend and confidant,
to assist him with a suggestion, but shame had kept
him silent. And it so chanced that an opportunity was afforded
him, the day after the funeral of Mr. Tuck, of speaking
to young Tremlett on the subject, when he found that his
young friend was as ignorant of all necessary forms as himself.
The clerks had all left the counting room and Jeremiah
and John were sitting alone at their desks. “Jeremiah,”
said John, “it is a long time since you and I have spoken a
word in private, but I hope that hereafter we shall not be so
much apart.”
“I hope not,” replied Jeremiah, who perceived that his
young friend had something to communicate to him, and so
vacant seat of poor Mr. Tuck.
“I suppose Jeremiah, you think that I am very happy?”
“Indeed,” replied he, “I rather hoped than thought so;
for although I cannot conceive that you should be otherwise,
I know very well that there is much wretchedness in the
world where its existence is never suspected. But what can
cause your unhappiness? I cannot dream of a real cause.”
“You know Jeremiah, it has been always talked of as a
matter of course that I should marry Julia Tuck; how it
happened I scarcely know; but we have been on intimate
terms a good while, and the young lady loves me better than I
wish she did; I do not speak vainly you know, Jeremiah, because
I would it were not so; but I cannot be blind to the
truth. But, Jeremiah, I tell you sincerely and truly, I never
told her that I loved her, neither did I ever speak a word to
her about marriage; and yet she thinks that I intend to marry
her, and so do her friends. But I cannot; and it is this
which makes me unhappy, for I do not know in what manner
I can extricate myself, without giving pain to her and
others whom I do love and respect. I cannot deceive her
longer, or rather allow her to deceive herself, and I dread a
disclosure of my real feelings not more for her sake than my
father's, for last night he told me that he expected, and wished
that I should marry her that the entire estate of the firm
might be kept in my possession.”
Jeremiah was astonished at this disclosure for he had supposed
that John was engaged and sincerely attached to Miss
Tuck, as indeed all his friends believed.
“What must I do, Jeremiah? How can I relieve myself?”
“Really indeed,” replied Jeremiah, “I cannot advise you;
but if it were my case I think I would do nothing. If you
have never told the young lady that you loved her, I do not
see that she has any right to claim your attentions; or that
her friends can with decency urge you to marry her.”
“It is in this manner that I reason with myself,” said John
“but as soon as I meet her, or any of her friends, I feel at
once as though I were in bonds. Perhaps the fault is mine
for having allowed the suspicion of my love for her to grow
into a certainty in the minds of others, by not contradicting
it pointedly, either by words or actions. But her having become
suddenly rich by the death of her uncle, will, in some
measure, relieve me, as no one could accuse me of base motives
if I were to leave her now; for my father has assured
me that he intends to put her in immediate possession of her
uncle's portion of the estate, thinking that I shall very shortly
be entitled to it as her husband. Now if I tell him that I can
never marry her, he may not do it, but be governed by the
strict letter of the will; and if I do not, he may justly reproach
me with dissimulation. Tell me Jeremiah what I
must do to do right, and do not consider what may be politic
or prudent. I have thought so much on the subject that I
hardly know what would be right.”
“That indeed, is a question more easily answered,” replied
Jeremiah, “the right and honest course would be to confess
the true state of your feelings to your father, and let the young
lady discover them herself from your actions; for if you were
to confess to her she might laugh at you for your presumption.”
“Thank you, thank you, Jeremiah,” exclaimed the young
man in an ecstacy, seizing the hand of his adviser and shaking
it heartily, “I will do it; it is the only way, and although
I may cause some tears to be shed it is the only way to save
greater griefs bye and bye.”
“And now,” said Jeremiah, “since you have made me
your confidant, I will make bold to ask your advice in a similar
business, although for very different reasons. If, for instance,”
he continued after moving his lips several times
without uttering any distinct words, “if, for instance, now,
you were going to tell a young lady that you did love her,
how would you do it?”
“Indeed I don't exactly know what course I should take,”
replied John, who for the first time in his life thought to himself
how such a communication could be made; “but I have
no doubt that when any real affection is felt, the declaration
would come out spontaneously.”
“One would think so,” said Jeremiah, “but to have the
thing positively understood, it strikes me that some particular
form of words should be used.”
“But as you meet with no difficulty in expressing yourself
on other subjects I do not see why you should on this,” said
John; “what can be easier; you, for instance are a young
lady, and I wish to tell you that I love you; I draw my chair
close to yours in this manner,” suiting the action to the word
as he spoke, “and taking her by the hand, provided she does
not draw it away, say, `My dear Miss Davis,' or, `my beautiful
Arabella, I love you very dearly and I feel that my existence
will be a blank unless you share it with me, can you
love and will you love me?' of course the young lady then
says `yes' or, `no,' and your existence becomes a good-for-nothing
blank, or like a blank filled up, of immense value as
the case may be.”
“That's very genteelly done, and I am very much obliged
to you; but I should like very much to know what effect
such an address may have produced.”
“Try it, Jeremiah,” said John, “try it.”
“Perhaps I may,” replied Jeremiah.
It now being dark, Jeremiah locked up his books in the
iron safe, and the two friends, having bidden each other good
night, they went to their homes, resolved to profit by each
other's counsel, and we shall see in due time how they proceeded.
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