Ovid persisted in declaring that she had merely desired him to get the note changed, and that he thought "nobody needn't wish for better change than all big silver,"--but feeling in his pocket, he said "he believed, if Miss Selina would let him, he could lend her a cent." However, after searching all his pockets, he found only a quarter of a dollar. "But,"
added he, "I can go in the kitchen and ax if the women hav'n't got no coppers. Ah! Miss Selina--your departed aunt always kept her pocket full."
Selina then desired him to go immediately and inquire for a cent among the women. She then returned to the parlour, and Mr. Robertson, having nothing more to say, rose to take his leave. During her absence from the room, he had torn off the back of a letter, folded in it the half-demolished camellia japonica, and deposited it in his waistcoat pocket.
Selina begged him to stay a few minutes longer, and she went into the kitchen to inquire in person about the cent.
"Apparently," thought Robertson, "she finds it hard to part with me. And certainly she _has_ seemed confused and agitated, during the whole of my visit."
On making her inquiry among the denizens of the kitchen, Selina found that none of the women had any probable coppers, excepting Violet, the black cook, who was fat and lame, and who intended, as soon as she had done making some cakes for tea, to ascend to her attic, and search for one among her hoards.
"La! Miss Selina," said Violet, "what can put you in such a pheeze about a cent?"
"I have borrowed a cent of Mr. Robertson," replied Selina, "and I wish to return it immediately."
"Well, now, if ever!" exclaimed Violet; "why, if that's all, I count it the same as nothing, and samer. To be sure he is too much of a gentleman to take a cent from a lady. Why, what's a cent?"
"I hope," replied Selina, "that he is too much of a gentleman to _refuse_ to take it."
"I lay you what you please," resumed Violet, "that if you go to offer him that cent, you'll 'front him out of the house. Why, when any of us borrows a copper of Ovid, we never thinks of paying him."
"True enough," said Ovid, half aside; "and that's the reason I most always take care never to have no coppers about me."
Selina now heard her father's voice in the parlour; and glad that he had come home, she hastened to obtain from him the much-desired coin. She found him earnestly engaged in discussing the Bank of the United States to Mr. Robertson, who was on the verge of departure. She went softly behind her father, and in a low voice asked him for a cent; but he was talking so busily that he did not hear her. She repeated the request.
"Presently--presently," said Mr. Mansel, "another time will do as well."
Mr. Robertson then made his parting bow to Selina, who, disconcerted at being baffled in all her attempts to get rid of her little debt, coloured excessively, and could not make an articulate reply to his "Good afternoon, Miss Mansel."
When her father returned from escorting his guest to the door, he recollected her request, and said--"What were you asking me, Selina? I think I heard you say something about money. But never interrupt me when I am talking of the bank."
Selina then made her explanation.
"You know," replied Mr. Mansel, "that I have always told you to avoid a debt as you would a sin; and I have also cautioned you never to allow yourself to be without all the varieties of small change."
He then gave her a handful of this convenient article, including half a dozen cents, saying, "There, now, do not forget to pay Mr. Robertson the first time you see him."
"Certainly, I will not forget it," replied Selina; "for, trifle as it is, I shall not feel at peace while it remains on my mind."
On the following afternoon Selina went out with her father to take a ride on horseback; and when they returned they found on the centre table the card of John W. Robertson. "Another _contre-tems_," cried Selina.
"He has been here again, and I have not seen him to pay him the cent!"
"Send it to him by Ovid," said Mr. Mansel.
"_Send_ such a trifle to a gentleman!" exclaimed Selina.
"Certainly," replied her father. "Even in the smallest trifles, it is best to be correct and punctual. You know I have always told you so."
Selina left the room for the purpose of despatching Ovid with the cent, but Ovid had gone out on some affairs of his own, and when she returned to the parlour she found two young ladies there, whose visit was not over till nearly dusk. By that time Ovid was engaged in setting the tea-table; a business from which nothing could ever withdraw him till all its details were slowly and minutely accomplished.
"It will be time enough after tea," said Selina, who, like most young housekeepers, was somewhat in awe of her servants. When tea was over both in parlour and kitchen (and by the members of the lower house that business was never accomplished without a long session), Ovid was despatched to the hotel with "Miss Mansel's compliments to Mr.
Robertson, and the cent that she had borrowed of him." It was long before Ovid came back, and he then brought word that Mr. Robertson was out, but that he had left the cent with Mr. Muddler, the barkeeper.
"Of course," said Selina, "the barkeeper will give it to Mr. Robertson as soon as he returns."
"I have my doubts," replied Ovid.
"Why?" asked Selina; "why should you suppose otherwise?"
"Because," answered Ovid, "Mr. Muddler is a very doubty sort of man.
That is, he's always to be doubted of. I lived at the hotel once, and I know all about him. He don't mind trifles, and he never remembers nothing. I guess Mr. Robertson won't be apt to get the cent: for afore I left the bar, I saw Muddler give it away in change to a man that came for a glass of punch. And I'm sure that Muddler won't never think no more about it. I could be as good as qualified that he won't."
"How very provoking!" cried Selina.
"You should have sealed it up in a piece of paper, and directed it to Mr. Robertson," said her father, raising his eyes from the newspaper in which he had been absorbed for the last hour. "Whatever is to be done at all, should always be done thoroughly."
"Yes, miss," said Ovid, "you know that's what your departed aunt always told you: partikaly when you were stoning reasons for plum-cake."
Selina was now at a complete loss what course to pursue. The cent was in itself a trifle; but there had been so much difficulty about it, that it seemed to have swelled into an object of importance: and from this time her repugnance to speaking of it to Mr. Robertson, or to any one else, became almost insurmountable.
On the following morning, her father told her that he had met Mr.
Robertson at the Post Office, and had been told by him that he should do himself the pleasure of making a morning call. "Therefore, Selina, I shall leave you to entertain him," said Mr. Mansel, "for I have made an appointment with Mr. Thinwall this morning, to go with him to look at a block of houses he is anxious to sell me."
Selina repaired to her room to get her sewing: and taking a cent from her purse, she laid it in her work-basket and went down stairs to be ready for the visit of Mr. Robertson. While waiting for him, she happened to look at the cent, and perceived that it was one of the very earliest coinage, the date being 1793. She had heard these cents described, but had never before seen one. The head of Liberty was characterized by the lawless freedom of her hair, the flakes of which were all flying wildly back from her forehead and cheek, and seemed to be blowing away in a strong north-wester; and she carried over her shoulder a staff surmounted with a cap. On the reverse, there was (instead of the olive wreath) a circular chain, whose links signified the union of the States. Our heroine was making a collection of curious coins, and she was so strongly tempted by the opportunity of adding this to the number, that she determined on keeping it for that purpose. She was just rising to go up stairs and get another as a substitute, when Mr. Robertson entered the parlour.
Selina was glad to see him, hoping that this visit would make a final settlement of the eternal cent. But she was also struck with the idea that it would be very awkward to ask him if the barkeeper had given him the one she had transmitted to him the evening before. She feared that the gentleman might reply in the affirmative, even if he had not really received it, and she felt a persuasion that it had entirely escaped the memory of Mr. Muddler. Not having sufficient self-possession to help her out of the difficulty, she hastily slipped the old cent back into her work-basket, and looked confused and foolish, and answered incoherently to Mr. Robertson's salutation. He saw her embarrassment, and augured favourably from it: but he cautiously determined not to allow himself to proceed too rapidly.
He commenced the conversation by informing her that sugars had declined a shade, but that coffee was active, and cotton firm; and he then prosed off into a long mercantile story, of which Selina heard and understood nothing: her ideas, when in presence of Mr. Robertson, being now unable to take any other form than that of a piece of copper.
Longing to go for another cent, and regretting that she had not brought down her purse, she sat uneasy and disconcerted: the delighted Robertson pausing in the midst of his tierces of rice, seroons of indigo, carboys of tar, and quintals of codfish, to look at the heightened colour of her cheek, and to give it the interpretation he most desired.
Selina had never thought him so tiresome. Just then came in Miss Peepabout and Miss Doublesight, who, having seen Mr. Robertson through the window, had a curiosity to ascertain what he was saying and doing at Mr. Mansel's. These two ladies were our hero's peculiar aversion, as they had both presumed to lay siege to him, notwithstanding that they were neither young nor handsome. Therefore, he rose immediately and took his leave: though Selina, in the hope of still finding an opportunity to discharge her debt, said to him, anxiously: "Do not go yet, Mr.
Robertson." This request nearly elevated the lover to paradise, but not wishing to spoil her by too much compliance, he persevered in departing.
That evening Selina met him at a party given by Mrs. Vincent, one of the leading ladies of Somerford. Thinking of this possibility, and the idea of Mr. Robertson and a cent having now become synonymous, our heroine tied a bright new one in the corner of her pocket-handkerchief, determined to go fully prepared for an opportunity of presenting it to him. When, on arriving at Mrs. Vincent's house, she was shown to the ladies' room, Selina discovered that the cent had vanished, having slipped out from its fastening; and after an ineffectual search on the floor and on the staircase, she concluded that she must have dropped it in the street. The night was very fine, and Mrs. Vincent's residence was so near her father's, that Selina had walked thither, and Mr. Mansel (who had no relish for parties), after conducting her into the principal room, and paying his compliments to the hostess, had slipped off, and returned home to seek a quiet game of backgammon with his next-door neighbour, telling his daughter that he would come for her at eleven o'clock.
Our heroine was dressed with much taste, and looked unusually well. Mr.
Robertson's inclination would have led him to attach himself to Selina for the whole evening; but convinced of the depth and sincerity of her regard (as he perceived that she now never saw him without blushing), he deemed it politic to hold back, and not allow himself to be considered too cheap a conquest. Therefore, after making his bow, and informing her that soap was heavy, but that raisins were animated, and that there was a good feeling towards Havana cigars, he withdrew to the opposite side of the room.
But though he divided his tediousness pretty equally among the other ladies, he could not prevent his eyes from wandering almost incessantly towards Selina, particularly when he perceived a remarkably handsome young man, Henry Wynslade, engaged in a very lively conversation with her. Mr. Wynslade, who had recently returned from India, lodged, for the present, at the hotel in which Robertson had located himself; consequently, our hero had some acquaintance with him.
Mrs. Vincent having taken away Wynslade to introduce him to her niece, Mr. Robertson immediately strode across the room, and presented himself in front of Selina. To do him justice, he had entirely forgotten the cent: and he meant not the most distant allusion to it, when, at the end of a long narrative about a very close and fortunate bargain he had once made in rough turpentine, he introduced the well-known adages of "a penny saved is a penny got," and "take care of the pence and the pounds will take care of themselves."
"Pence and cents are nearly the same," thought the conscious Selina. She had on her plate some of the little printed rhymes that, being accompanied by bonbons, and enveloped in coloured paper, go under the denomination of secrets or mottoes. These delectable distichs were most probably the leisure effusions of the poet kept by Mr. and Mrs.
Packwood, of razor-strop celebrity, and from their ludicrous silliness frequently cause much diversion among the younger part of the company.
In her confusion on hearing Mr. Robertson talk of pence, Selina began to distribute her mottoes among the ladies in her vicinity, and, without looking at it, she unthinkingly presented one to her admirer, as he stood stiff before her. A moment after he was led away by Mr. Vincent, to be introduced to a stranger: and in a short time the company adjourned to the supper-room.
The ladies were all seated, and the gentlemen were standing round, and Selina was not aware of her proximity to Mr. Robertson till she overheard him say to young Wynslade--"A most extraordinary circumstance has happened to me this evening."
"What is it?" cried Wynslade.