University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS.

Since the death of Mr. Silby, the father of
the young schoolmistress, and the departure
from home of Edgar Silby, Jr., Alice and her
mother had left their residence in Woodboro',
and taken up their abode with their relatives,
the Sorrel family, in Verfield.

Of the character of Alice Silby, the reader
has already formed some opinion. She was a
strong-minded, even-tempered, cheerful, independent
girl, possessed of rather more originality
of thought and firmness in action than
we often see in maidens of seventeen. In
her sixteenth year, notwithstanding the kindness
of her relatives, who would gladly have

enabled her to live at her ease, and the tenderness
of her cousin Joseph in particular, who
would have rejoiced to make her his wife, Alice
resolved to support herself by teaching. In
the morning she gave lessons in music, and
during the day she devoted her time to her
school.

Mr. Joseph Sorrel was not the only gentleman
who honored Alice with his admiration and
attentions. A score of ardent young men had
cast their hearts at her feet. Among the most
distinguished of these was one, of whom, and
of whose family, it is necessary to say a few
words.

Mr. Roger Brance was the most wealthy
landholder in Verfield, and his residence was
contiguous to that of the Sorrels. Mr Brance
was an egotistical, polite man, with whom
self-interest was the great principal of action.
He was a shrewd manager, and many a poor
man had he robbed in a legal manner of
house and land; yet nobody could say a word
against his honesty. Mr. Brance was a smooth
member of society, and many public acts of
liberality had gained him a reputation for
benevolence; still, in private life, he was a
hard, cold, and relentless man.

Twenty years before, Roger Brance had
offered his hand to the mother of Alice Silby.
In a noble spirit of independence and generosity,
Mary Carlton preferred a poor man whom
she loved to a rich man whom she only
esteemed. She became the wife of Edgar
Silby, and went to live in Woodboro'.
Eighteen years elapsed, and Mrs. Silby returned
to her relatives in Verfield, with her
only daughter. She had lost a husband during
this time, and Mr. Brance had lost a wife.
Mrs. Silby was still poor; Mr Brance had
multiplied his wealth. Mrs. Silby's marriage
for love had been a most unhappy one. Hence,
when Mr. Brance saw her again, and once
more offered her his hand, she had resolved to
accept it, and become the wife of one whom
she had once refused, and never loved. The
engagement of Mrs. Silby with Mr. Brance
was generally known throughout Verfield, and
their marriage was expected soon to take place.

The only son and sole heir of Mr. Roger
Brance was a wild, pleasure-seeking, handsome,
dashing youth, who had no occupation
except to spend his father's superfluous wealth.
Appleton Brance had never distinguished himself

for any striking moral qualities; on the
other hand, his career was every where marked
by an evident want of principle. At times he
was magnanimously generous, and at others
he was ready to adopt any expediency for the
advancement of his selfish designs.

Mr. Roger Brance was not the man to be
well pleased with his son's arduous and expensive
pursuit of pleasure.

“Appleton,” said he, “must marry. Nothing
else will tame him. But where is the woman
who will prove an attraction for a young man
who has been so dissipated?”

Appleton answered his father's question in a
most unexpected and satisfactory manner.

“I am a caught trout, father,” said the affectionate
son one day. “Those bright eyes of
Miss Silby's have killed me.”

Roger Brance rubbed his hands with delight.
For the first time in ten years he actually embraced
his son.

“Bah!” said Appleton, scowling. “This is
getting tame! I expected you would oppose
my wishes in this matter, because Alice is
poor. That is the way of all rich fathers I
ever read about.”

“No, no!” cried Mr. Brance. “Alice Silby
is such a superior, accomplished girl, that I
can't say a word against her. Take her, Appleton,
and God bless you.”

“Hang it! I wish I could!” exclaimed
Appleton. “Your advice is easy to give, but
rather hard to follow. You see, I am afraid
Miss Silby is a little inclined to dislike me.”

“Nonsense, boy!” said Mr. Brance. “You
are rich; she will not reject you.”

“Twenty years ago, you were rich, father;
her mother rejected you.”

“Confound your impertinence, Appleton!
Has not her mother seen the folly of her former
refusal of my hand?”

“Ah! now you are coming to the point,
father. Mrs. Silby has experience, which Alice
has not, and which I wish she had. But there
is some hope of the girl, nevertheless. Go
to my future mother-in-law; speak a good
word for your obedient son; she will manage
her daughter, and the chances will be in my
favor.”

Since the above conversation between Mr.
Brance and his son, Appleton had been very
attentive to Alice, and given her to understand

in many ways the state of his affections, without
making her a final offer of his hand; and
Mr. Brance, having conversed with Mrs. Silby
on the subject, had obtained from her a promise
to exert all the maternal influence she could
command in Appleton's favor.

Another of Miss Silby's suitors, no less than
Mr. Joseph Sorrel and Mr. Appleton Brance,
demands our attention.

A year previous to the commencement of
our story, a young physician had audaciously
attempted to practise in the town of Verfield,
which already boasted of two gentlemen of
the same profession. Albert Corrinton was a
talented, industrious young man, well qualified
to administer potions and apply the lancet. In
the centre of the village, about a mile distant
from the residence of Mr. Brance, the young
doctor rented a small, one-story, snug-looking
building, where he established his office and
sleeping apartments, and where, for many
months, he might have been seen sitting day
after day, from morning until night, waiting for
practice. Except when he went out to eat a
beefsteak or drink a cup of coffee at the hotel
opposite, Mr. Corrinton seldom left his office.

Nobody required his services. Dr. Dosemore
and Dr. Draper were the only persons benefited
by sickness in Verfield. The old physicians
enjoyed the confidence of the community;
Corrinton was looked upon with distrust. Nobody
employed him; consequently nobody
thought he was worthy to be employed.

Corrinton saw how matters stood. He was
impatient to be appreciated, and resorted to an
innocent artifice. One day, in great haste, he
ordered his horse from the hotel stables, and
rode off as if fifty lives in Verfield depended
upon his speed. People saw him ride past, and
shrewdly guessed that somebody was dangerously
ill, and that somebody had seen fit to
employ the young physician. On the following
day, Corrinton ordered his horse again in
the same way, and rode off with praiseworthy
despatch. People saw him ride past once
more, and declared that the obscure doctor was
beginning to be of some importance. For a
week, Albert rode about the town with the air
of a man conscious of doing miracles of good;
and people looked at him in wonder every day,
and talked about him, and thought he must be
skilful, and hoped he was doing well. At

length somebody was sick, and saw fit to
try the new physician; and somebody recovered,
and trumpeted the circumstances of this
wonderful cure throughout the town of Verfield.
From that time the young doctor began to
ride in earnest. His artifice had brought him
practice.

Alice Silby was among the first acquaintances
Dr. Corrinton made in Verfield. He
could not but be pleased with her; and he was
so different from all other men she had ever
known, that she felt much interested in him
from the first. If there was any body by whom
Corrinton was ambitious of being admired, it
was the clear-sighted, the independent Alice;
and if there was a man whose approbation
the young schoolmistress ardently desired, that
man was the learned, accomplished, discriminating
Corrinton.

Between the doctor and Mr. Appleton
Brance there existed a mutual hatred, which
might have originated in jealousy, but which
had been fostered and increased by the mutual
repugnance men of such different characters
feel towards each other.

Both were impulsive, passionate men; both

were proud and sensitive; and so bitter had
their enmity become, that the friends of the
hostile parties feared that fatal consequences
might ensue.

Having labored through this dry explanation
of the relative positions of Alice Silby's suitors,
the reader will be prepared to understand the exciting
events which were destined soon to throw
the town of Verfield into unusual commotion.

We left Alice and her affectionate cousin
sitting together on the rude bench in the woods.

“By the way,” exclaimed Joseph, after a
long silence, “I forgot!”

“What did you forget?” asked Alice, without
raising her eyes.

“Why, that your mother wants to see you.
In fact, she sent me to find you and bring you
home! And in your delicious presence I forgot
myself.”

“Are you in earnest, Joseph?”

“Certainly I am.”

“Then let us go,” said Alice. “You should
have told me before.”

“What a miserable fool I am!” exclaimed
Joseph. “Whip me, coz, and I shall feel better!
Here, take this sprout, and spare not.”

“Throw down that sprout, you goose!” cried
Alice, gayly, “and help me across the brook.”

Joseph's features were radiant with joy, and
he stroked his moustache energetically. Nothing
pleased him so much as to be called a
goose by his charming cousin. Stepping forward
with alacrity, he prepared to support
Alice on the stones which formed the bridge it
was necessary to cross.

“Accept my hand,” said he, good humoredly.
“After having refused it in a matrimonial
sense so often, you will not object to taking it
in a literal sense.”

“O, by no means!” said Alice, tripping
lightly across the stream. “Look out! you
will wet your boots.”

“Bless you!” exclaimed the enthusiastic
youth, “I would forego blacking altogether for
your sake!”

And in the most rash and daring manner,
Joseph plunged his polished boot into the
water, like a devoted martyr, in order to convince
his adorable cousin that there was no
sacrifice the performance of which his love for
her would not render easy and delightful.

Alice laughed gayly as she hurried away,

following the path which led out of the woods,
in the direction of Mr. Sorrel's house.

“Really! she isn't as fond of me as I wish
she was!” said Joseph, as he ran on after her.
“How little she cares for my society! I am
afraid I shall be driven to console myself by
marrying Lucy Fantom, after all.”

The residence of the Sorrels was not far off,
and Alice was soon at home. Leaving Joseph
to amuse himself as well as he could without
her, she hastened to her mother's room.

Mrs. Silby was a pale, sedate, stately woman,
still handsome, although care had left
traces on her intelligent brow, and sprinkled
her raven tresses with gray.

“Sit down, Alice,” said she, with a sad
smile, and in a kindly tone. “I have been
waiting for you.”

Alice did as she directed.

“I have desired to talk with you, on a subject
of importance, for a long time,” pursued
Mrs. Silby. “Can you listen to me now?”

“With the greatest pleasure, mother,” replied
Alice.

“You are well aware, dear child,” said Mrs.
Silby, after a pause, “that there are two

gentlemen whose partiality for you is unquestionable
— Mr. Brance and Dr. Corrinton.

Alice made no reply.

“I have nothing to say of the respective
merits of these individuals, Alice, for they both
possess good traits of character, while neither is
faultless. It is my impression that you prefer
Corrinton; it may be you love him; but that
there are weighty reasons why you should favor
Mr. Brance, I will endeavor to show you.”

“I am happy to listen,” said Alice.

“In the first place, I desire to convince you,
my child, that it is folly to marry for love
alone. It is very well to talk of affection and
devotion, but the charm of these admirable
qualities seldom survives the honeymoon.”

“Too rarely, I know,” said Alice.

“It is a fact that pure love matches are the
most unhappy of all,” pursued Mrs. Silby.
“Where young people marry merely to please
the fancy, — and love is but a fancy, — they
hang their happiness upon a straw, which the
lightest of cares is often heavy enough to
break, and which the fires of adversity are sure
to consume. On the other hand, when friendship,
esteem, and more worldly considerations

lie at the foundation of marriage, substantial
happiness is most frequently the result. Apply
these remarks to Dr. Corrinton and Appleton
Brance. The former is poor, and as there is
little prospect of his soon becoming rich, if you
marry him it must be for love. The latter is
wealthy, and by accepting his hand you secure
the substance of happiness, to which romantic
dreams are not to be compared. But I do not
wish to influence you by making mere assertions,
my dear child. I will relate to you my
own experience of married life, and then you
can act as you please. You already know
something of my unhappy marriage, but as the
principal events I shall relate took place before
you were born, or during your extreme youth,
they will be new to you. I married for love;
hear my story.”

And Mrs. Silby proceeded to relate her experience
as follows.