University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

From this time every means was tried,
and every art put in requisition by Martin
and his wife, to forward the projected match
between Gow and their adopted daughter.
Their first attempts were confined to endeavors
to impress her with favorable sentiments
towards her new lover, and, at the
same time, to prejudice her mind against
Ashley and destroy the high estimation in
which they well knew she deservedly held
him. But not long resting satisfied with
their progress in this indirect method of
accomplishing their base purpose, they
soon proceeded to open importunities, using
every persuasion to induce her to yield
to their wish, and exhausting every argument
their ingenuity could invent, which
they thought likely to shake her still unaltered
purpose of fidelity to her betrothed

lover, and turn her mind to the man of
their worse than mercenary choice. Sometimes
setting before her glowing pictures
of the wealth and splendor to be gained
by an union with Gow, and then contrasting
this with the life of labor and obscurity,
which they told her must be her certain
lot if she married Ashley; sometimes resorting
to flattery, followed by abject entreaties;
and sometimes to menaces and
bitter denunciations in case she finally refused
to comply with their wishes and
commands; till the poor girl felt as if she
must sink under their united persecution.
With the object of this unwearied intercession,
himself, she succeeded much easier
in securing herself from annoyance.
He had by this time proposed himself in
direct terms, and had received a decided
and unqualified refusal; and the simple
majesty of innocence, and virtuous rectitude
of purpose, all unprotected and discountenanced
as they were on all sides
conveyed a rebuke before which, with all
his assurance, he could not help quailing;
and he shrank from the cold dignity of
her presence, leaving her mostly unmolested
by open attempts to soften her obduracy,
choosing rather to rely on intrigue
and deception to effect a design which he
was well aware any manly or honorable
course would fail of accomplishing. But
this new and unexpected attempt of Martin
and his wife, situated as she was, to
control her inclination and induce her to
violate her plighted faith, was much less
easily combatted, and doubly enhanced
her distress and perplexity. Their motives
for this cruel conduct, she soon rightly
conjectured, must arise from some advantage
to be gained by the success of their
endeavors—some tempting condition by
which Gow had bribed them; but why any
such advantage, or bribe should be offered
by the latter, she was wholly at a
loss to imagine. She felt satisfied that his
anxiety to obtain her hand did not proceed
from any love which he had so hastily entertained
for her, and much less could it
arise, she thought, from any pecuniary or
other advantage, to be gained by marrying
a pennyless and obscure orphan. But
that such was his determined purpose, she
could no longer doubt, and it was equally
clear to her that her parents were closely
leagued with him in the design.—The
neighbors, too, it was apparent, from their
jokes and indirect advice to her, in their
intercourse with the family, had been biased
by the account which they had received
of the new comer, and had already arrayed
themselves on his side, and stood
ready to advocate his cause. While the
reluctance she had conceived to divulge
what she knew of him, or to say aught to
his disadvantage as long as he was a favored
inmate of her family, mingled with a
delicacy of feeling, forbidding her to discuss
the character of an avowed lover, all
combined to prevent her from trying to
undeceive her acquaintance in their opinion
of Gow, or to make known to any one
the wretchedness and difficulty of her situation.
And had she attempted this, and
made known her difficulty, she knew not
that it would avail in changing the popular
current which she saw was now setting
in favor of Gow, or in alleviating her
embarrassments; she resolved therefore
to endure in silence, and though alone,
and unfriended, to persevere in her unshaken
determination of resistance, till the
return of Ashley should put an end to her
sorrows and troubles.

`What great object do you propose to
gain, May,' said Martin one day during
this ceaseless warfare against the peace
and happiness of the persecuted girl. `What
great object do you propose to gain by rejecting
such a man as Mr. Gow, and accepting
such a fellow as Ashley?'

`I shall at least gain the approbation of
my own conscience, father; for I have
promised him solemnly, and he told me
that he had your consent.'

`I might have said something of the kind

perhaps, when I supposed you could do
no better; but these foolish promises which
boys and girls make to each other,—what
do they amount to? And how long does
either party hesitate about breaking them,
when finding they can do better with themselves,
they wish to make another choice?'

`But I have no wish to make another
choice, and if I had, I hardly think I should
gain much by the change you propose.'

`You don't pretend to compare Ashley
to Mr. Gow, do you?'

`Certainly, I should not wish to compare
him to this suspicious man—'

`What do you mean, girl? Would you
insinuate any thing against the character
of Mr. Gow—a gentleman, and a friend
of mine as he is?'

`I do not wish to say any thing about
him; but friend or gentleman, as you may
believe him, you would be much better employed,
I suspect, in guarding yourself against
his arts, than in trying to drive a
poor friendless and unprotected girl into
his clutches.'

`What mean you, May Martin, once
more I ask?' sternly demanded he, stamping
on the floor. `What reasons for your
scandalous insinuations can you give?—
Speak—tell them if you have any. No
wonder you hesitate; for you have none
to give—'tis all but a foolish stubborn girl's
whim—prejudice against a man who loves
you, but who is too good for you, and condescends
too much in wishing to make you
rich and happy. I tell you, girl, you must
marry him!'

`O, I cannot, Father, never, never!'

`You won't then, will you? You forget
that you are not of age yet, and that I
have an indenture in that desk that puts
you completely under my control?'

`I forget nothing, Sir. I know my duty
and have always endeavored to do it;
and can you say as much respecting the
cruel course you are now pursuing towards
me? Does that paper to which you
so insultingly allude, give you the power
to dispose of me in marriage without my
consent, and against my inclinations?'

`Hush impudent!' vociferated Martin,
again stamping in rage. `A lecture on
my duty, hey? Fine times I should think!'

`May don't remember,' chimed in Mrs.
Martin with a spiteful leer and taunting
tone, `May don't remember who took her
when she was a little ragged outcast, that
no father would come to own, and fed,
clothed and educated her, and gave her a
respectable home?'

`O, I have, I do remember it,' said May
bursting into tears, `I remember it all, and
would to heaven I could think of those
days of kindness without associating them
with later treatment—with this, this bitter
hour of insult and cruelty!'

`Come, come, you silly girl,' said Martin,
after waiting till her paroxysm had a
little subsided, and now changing his manner
into a half coaxing, half expostulating
tone. `Come, come, May, I did not mean
to hurt your feelings—I do not wish you
to do any thing but what I think is for
your good. You, yourself, will be as ready

to marry Mr. Gow, as you are now opposed
to it, as soon as you find that Ashley
has left you for another sweetheart.'

`Ashley?' said May slowly taking her
handkerchief from her tear-bathed face,
and looking at Martin with an air of mingled
surprise and censure, `Mr. Ashley
will never do that.'

`Pshaw, nothing more likely!' responded
Martin, carelessly. `You don't know
William Ashley as well as I do.'

`Well enough, however,' replied May
promptly, `to know that he will never do
that—any sooner than I should voluntarily
leave him for your Mr. Gow.

`You would hardly dare promise to marry
Mr. Gow on condition of Ashley's desertion,
I suspect?'

`Indeed, I should, Sir!'

`Well, let us have your promise then.'

`I fear not to do it, Sir, on that condition,'
rejoined May in a tone of unsuspecting
confidence, `and if such a promise
will relieve me from any more persecution,

and teasing to marry Gow, till Mr. Ashley
is false to me, I will make it.'

`Well,' observed Martin, with a well
feigned air of indifference, `I will take you
at your word. I suppose we must submit
to the condition, though I still say we do
not wish to force your inclinations, only so
far as we know is for your own interest.
And now, you have made this promise
May, I hope you will think, should this
condition be fulfilled, that it is as wicked
to break it, as you now do to break your
promise to Ashley.' So saying, and with
a treacherous smile on his countenance,
he left the room.

May marvelled much at the unexpected
termination of the dialogue which had begun
so differently, and threatened so different
an ending; and after Martin had retired,
she endeavored to draw something
from his wife which would go to explain
her husband's sudden apparent willingness
to drop his purpose for a promise made on
a condition which she felt so confident

could never happen. But that dame, who
was naturally taciturn and cautious, and
who rarely ever betrayed the secrets of
her heart with her tongue, while her cold,
severe, and unvarying countenance was
generally equally proof against all scrutiny
on what was passing within, pretended
to know nothing of the affair, and, after a
few unsatisfactory replies, sunk into her
usual forboding silence. Our heroine,
therefore, being left to her own conjectures,
and, notwithstanding she felt some
little misgiving relative to her promise, and
an underfined suspicion that there was something
wrong about it, seeing, nevertheless,
no reason why it should be different from
what the circumstances purported, could
not but congratulate herself on the prospect
now presented, of a reprieve from
her persecutions, and the latter feeling prevailing,
she dismissed the subject from
her mind, and resumed her domestic occupations
with a cheerfulness to which
she had sometime been a stranger.