6. CHAPTER VI.
Great was the wonderment among the gossips,
when the news went forth of Emily's great fortune,—for
rumor soon swelled it into a fortune—
and the following six months were employed by
all the unmarriageable spinsters and old ladies
with spectacles, in conjectures and discussions as
to the strange singularity of such an event; and
she who had in her earlier years been considered
in birth far beneath them, was now, by this incident,
placed far above. Oh! the inconsistency of
human beings!
A new epoch was now opened to Emily; for
Webber, punctual to what he considered a duty,
took immediate steps to place her in one of the
best institutions in the city of New York, in
charge of a distant relative, who, moving in the
best circles of society, gave her not only the advantages
of intellectual education, but also that of
acquiring the ease, grace and dignity belonging to
the true etiquette of fashion. Soon after this
disposition of Emily, Webber made a tour to the
West, purchased a farm as already shown, and
removed thither with his family.
Four years passed, and Emily saw nothing of
the Webbers. During this period she had grown
to womanhood, and what had promised so well
when young, was amply fulfilled in maturer years.
She became attractive in person, graceful in accomplishments,
while her intellectual faculties far
exceeded ordinary minds. Her temperament was
truly poetic, with nothing of affectation or coquetry
(which spoils so many) in her manner.—
She was a warm patriot and enthusiast; and when
conversing on some noble theme, dull must be
the eye that would not flash, or the mind that
would not fire, with the inspiration thrown from
her speaking eyes and glowing flowery language.
It was in New York that Edward Merton, then
a student in the University, first became acquainted
with Emily; and struck, we might add fascinated,
with manners and appearance so far above
the gay flirting things with which she was surrounded,
he sought, gained an introduction, and
almost immediately commenced paying her his
addresses. The result of those addresses, thus far,
the reader has already seen.
Although it was generally believed that Emily
was rich, yet she knew to the contrary; and possessed
of a pride too noble to take advantage of
such a reputation, she, through a sensitive delicacy,
repulsed the advancements often made by
those whom she considered her superiors in point
of wealth. Wealth was certainly a great bar to
the progress of Merton; a bar, in fact, which he
found far more difficult to pass than he at first
supposed; and although his nobleness of heart,
his sincere, ardent passion, inspired within her
own breast feelings of affection—of love—yet
pride prevailed; and Merton, to whom she revealed
her scruples, saw with painful regret that unless
there were some counteracting power, Emily
might love, but would never consent to be his.
Tired of city life, and the gay frivolties of the
day, Emily longed for the quiet retreat of her
guardian; and having made preparations to that
effect, about six months prior to the opening of
our story, she, accompanied by Merton, whose
father resided in St. Louis, set out for the West.
Happy, most happy, was the meeting between
Emily and her friends, who had been to her as parents
and brothers. Webber, when he came fairly
to recognise the “long lost one,” as he termed
her, could scarcely restrain himself for joy.—
Even John, as he extended the hand of welcome,
seemed to smile with less of deceit and more of
earnestness than was his wont; while Rufus approached
her with that bashful timidity, almost
amounting to awe, which persons of sensitive
minds often exhibit when they fancy themselves
in the presence of their superiors.
A great change had been wrought in the personal
appearance of Emily. She had left them
as it were a child, and as such they remembered
her; consequently there was surprise mingled
with their joy, to behold such a fine, graceful,
lady-like form, combined with such ease and dignity
of manner, returned in place of the image on
which memory still dwelt. But as it is not our
purpose to enter into details here, therefore let it
suffice, that up to the time of the commencement
of our story, things had run on smoothly.
Merton, whose collegiate course was finished,
was now preparing to practice law in St. Louis;
but sometimes finding bright eyes a much more
pleasing study, not unfrequently wandered off in
the direction of Webber's; and almost as frequently,
through a singular coincidence, he and Emily
might be seen mounted on their fine steeds, scouring
the country in various directions:—in fact, it
was on one of these excursions, in which they
were first introduced to the reader. As their proceedings
since then have been made known, we
trust sufficient has been said to justify us in proceeding
with our tale.
