9. CHAPTER IX.
Leonard C. Howell, after leaving Charleston
and making a brief stay in the North, left again for the
South, and when Mr. Gordon and his bride were fairly
settled in their work in Brooklyn, he was preparing to enter into
business in middle Georgia, as the representative of an extensive
banking house in New York.
As the industries of the South were just beginning to
revive, and as there was great demand for fabrics and provisions
all through the land in consequence of the destruction and exhaustion of the
war, the opportunities for trading were great. The cotton
fields were again bringing forth their snowy harvests, and as the
price of
the staple was high, there was a large amount of money coming
into the South, although its stay in that section was necessarily
brief. It came from New York and the East in return for
cotton, and went almost immediately to the West for
bacon, corn, and mules. Still the
merchants, warehousemen, and brokers managed to draw
off from the general current, as it swept by them,
important side streams which left their valuable deposits of cash in the
coffers. While the poor planter came out at the end of the year with
barely enough to pay the taxes above his necessary expenses for
corn, bacon, mules, and labor, and was
compelled to get advances at killing rates to enable him "to pitch his
crop" for the coming year, the merchants,
warehousemen and brokers had fared so well generally that they were able
to accommodate the farmer to all the money
that he might need at two and a half per cent a month, and good
security. Delightful conditions indeed ! When the men who
owned the land and made the crops were thus bound like groveling captives
to the chariot wheels of their financiers. The overthrow of their
armies in the field had left them free, but they had fallen into an
economic serfdom from which there seemed but little hope of early
escape.
Into this volume of trade, with plenty of
capital, and endowed with natural shrewdness, Leonard
C. Howell entered. He had received a good practical
business education and his experience among men had taught him how to
succeed. He was neither sensitive nor sentimental. He had
been given a liberal opportunity, and it was his intention,
while serving his employers faithfully, also to make something for
himself. Wjat little money he had
was invested along with that of the firm; and all was invested in such
a way as to wring from its producers the lion's share of
Georgia's one great crop. Of course he prospered.
He was strictly sober, honest, and industrious,
and was bending all his energies to the one end. He was a good
citizen, however, and was not devoid of benevolence and
good feeling.
As the time wore on and wealth and influence came,
he became not only more indifferent upon the subject of religion,
but actually more hostile to the church and more uncharitable in his
thoughts toward Christians generally; yet all the while cherishing the
love of Hortense, and now confidently expecting to have her as his
wife. Does he anticipate the destruction of her happiness in the
consummation of his own? Does he think to win her from her
religion? or is it his purpose to be tolerant
and charitable toward her? Well, we shall see.
Leonard believed in morality and in benevolence; became a friend of
the people, an ardent advocate of popular liberty and popular
education; but he was drifting in sentiment far away from orthodox
views. Even upon the subject of marriage he was becoming
radical. The vision of Hortense Vanross still lived in his mind and
heart, and for his love for her had not abated; but he had
begun to question the propriety of a marriage for life. The bond of
love he would place above the bond of matrimony; and deceived by
such reasoning, his mind had started toward those shoals of
idealism upon which many precious lives have been wrecked.
Although he had not received the cordial approval of the family as
the suitor of Hortense, yet the engagement between the two was
a living fact, and he was now
demanding the fixing of the day. Lavinia was already happily
married and settled; a daughter-in-law had taken
her place in the household, and another son had set up a home for
himself in another part of the city. Only Hortense, the
eldest, and John C., the youngest of the
family, remained unmarried; and Hortense was engaged
— engaged, although a dread apprehension
seemed to cast its depressing shade over the thought of the prospective
marriage. The matter still lingered before her somewhat in the form
of a question, and was still debated within with great
earnestness.
True, her heart had once and again decided,
but doubt and even fears beset her. Mrs. Vanross counseled
delay, and hoped for the best; but nevertheless she saw that
the issue was closing. She must yield and adapt herself to the
situation, and she prepared in all sincerity to do so. She
with-
drew all objections which had never really been expressed, and the
day of the marriage was finally settled. She still continued to look
forward to the event with a sad heart, however, not only
because she was so reluctant to part with her
companion-daughter, as Hortense had long been,
but because she feared for her daughter's future. She had not
thought it wise to interpose authority in the matter, and
now, as she regarded her own life-day as
well-nigh spent, she quietly bowed to what seemed inevitable. She had no fault to find with the manners,
morals, or prospects of Mr. Howell. He was a
gentleman, and he had already provided a comfortable home for
her daughter in the South; but she feared his religious indifference
would develop into hostility, and that his prejudices would render
him blind even to the sincere piety of Hortense.
The day arrived and the wedding took place. It was
entirely business-like on Mr. Howell's part,
and he was soon away with his bride. There was love, real
genuine love, in the marriage. Hortense had loved deeply
and long, and her love had grown with each succeeding
month, despite the dark clouds that had gathered around it.
It was a pure, sweet, undying affection, which
the "many waters" yet to come would not be able to
quench. Leonard had loved ardently, until the question of
acceptance had been settled; that the ardor of that affection somewhat
abated, and he earnestly addressed himself to the practical
requirements of the situation. He love Hortense as he received ger
as his bride, but he looked upon her now too much as his
acquisition. She was now his companion to comfort and
de-
light him, rather than that he should be hers to comfort and delight
her. He had made all the preparations for her happiness,
but the end in view seemed to be that thereby
he might be the more happy. The fact
was , that Leonard in pursuing his course of
money-making had developed out of proportion his selfish
instincts; and these were already beginning to poison that rich and
pure love which once drew him so sweetly towards the noble woman who
now stood by his side as his wife.
The leave-taking was not pleasant. The
mother lingered long in tears over her departing daughter, and
only surrendered her at the call of stern necessity, giving her all
counsel and encouragement. Noble, pious Hortense !
Thou art entering the deep valley of trial concerning which all these sad
incidents are so prognostications, and thy course henceforth is to
be one of increasing cloudiness; thy pathway is to be bestrewn with
thorns, and thou shalt walk alone for years through tribulations
deep, until the light streaming from the Golden Gate shall fall
upon thee, and thou shalt hear the heavenly "We-
The corn of wheat fell into the ground and perished;
but the stalk that sprang from it bore its seven full ears to the
harvest. The Great Day will tell thee that thy suffering was not in
vain!
