"Well, then," said Robertson, taking one out of his pocket, "you shall cry for it no longer: here's one for you."
"This won't do--this won't do!" sobbed Selina.
"Why, I am sure it is a good cent," said Robertson, "just like any other."
"No," cried Selina, "your giving me another cent only makes things worse."
By this time they were in sight of Mr. Mansel's door, and Selina perceived something on the pavement glittering in the moonlight. "Ah!"
she exclaimed, taking it up, "this must be the very cent I dropped on my way to Mrs. Vincent's. I know it by its being quite a new one. How glad I am to find it!"
"Well," said Robertson, "I have heard of ladies taking cents to church; but I never knew before that they had any occasion for them at tea-parties. And, by-the-bye (as I have often told my friend Pennychink the vestryman), that practice of handing a money-box round the church in service-time, is one of the meanest things I know, and I wonder how any man that is a gentleman can bring himself to do it."
"And now, Mr. Robertson," said Selina, hastily wiping her eyes, "have you forgotten that I borrowed a cent of you the other day at Mr.
Stretchlace's store?"
"I _had_ forgotten it," answered Robertson; "but I recollect it now."
"That cent was never returned to you," said Selina.
"It was not," replied Robertson, looking surprised.
"There it is," continued our heroine, as she gave it to him. "Now that I see it in your hand, I have courage to explain all. My father and my aunt have taught me to dread contracting even the smallest debt.
Therefore, I could not feel at ease till I had repaid your cent. Several untoward circumstances have since prevented my giving it to you, though I can assure you, that whenever we met it was seldom absent from my mind. This was the real cause of the embarrassment or confusion you talk of. When I gave you the flower, and afterwards that foolish motto, I was thinking so much of the unlucky cent as to be scarcely conscious of what I was doing. Believe me when I repeat to you that this is the whole truth of what you have so strangely misinterpreted."
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Robertson: "and was there nothing in it but a paltry bit of copper, when I thought all the time that I had at last met with a young lady who loved me for myself, and not for my bank-stock, and my real estate, and my railroad shares!"
"For neither, I can assure you," said Selina, gayly; "but I shall be very glad to hear that yourself, and your bank-stock, and your real estate, and your railroad shares, have become the property of a lady of better taste than myself."
They had been for some time on the steps of Mr. Mansel's door, and before he rung the bell, Robertson said to Selina: "Well, however, you know I did not actually come to a proposal?"
"Not exactly," replied Selina, smiling.
"Therefore, you will not tell everybody that you refused me?"
"I will not, indeed," answered Selina. "And now, then, allow me to bid you adieu in the words of the song--'Good night--all's well!'"
She then tripped into the parlour, where she found her father just preparing to come for her; and having made him very merry with her account of the events of the evening, she went to bed with a light heart.
Mr. Robertson returned sullenly to his hotel, as much chagrined as a man of his obtuse feelings could possibly be. And he was the more vexed at losing Selina, as he conceived that a woman who could give herself so much uneasiness on account of a cent, would consequently make a good wife. The more he thought of this, the better he liked her: and next morning, when Henry Wynslade inquired of him the progress of wooing, Robertson not having invention enough to gloss over the truth, told him the facts as they really were, and asked his companion's opinion of the possibility of yet obtaining Miss Mansel.
"Try again by all means," said Wynslade, who was curious to see how this business would end. "There is no knowing what may be the effect of a direct proposal--the ladies never like us the better for proceeding slowly and cautiously: so now for a point-blank shot."
"It shall be conveyed in a letter, then," replied Robertson; "I have always found it best, in matters of business, to put down everything in black and white."
"Do it at once, then," said Wynslade: "I have some thoughts of Miss Mansel myself, and perhaps I may cut you out."
"I doubt that," replied Robertson; "you are but commencing business, and _my_ fortune is already made."
"I thought," observed Wynslade, "you would marry only on condition of being loved for yourself alone."
"I have given up that hope," answered Robertson, with a sort of sigh: "however, I was certainly a very pretty baby. I fear I must now be content to take a wife on the usual terms."
"Be quick, then, with your proposal," said Wynslade, "for I am impatient to make mine."
Wynslade then departed, and Robertson placed himself at his desk, and in a short time despatched to our heroine the following epistle, taking care to keep a copy of it:
"MISS SELINA MANSEL:--Your statement last night was duly attended to; but further consideration may give another turn to the business. The following terms are the best I think proper to offer:
"One Town House--1 Country House--4 Servants--2 Horses--1 Carriage--1 Chaise--1 Set of Jewels--1 New Dress per Month--4 Bonnets per Ann.--1 Tea-party on your Birthday--Ditto on mine--1 Dinner-party on each anniversary of our Wedding-day, till further orders--2 Plays per Season--and half an Opera.
"If you are not satisfied with the T. H. and the C. H. you may take 1 trip per summer to the Springs or the Sea-shore. If the Parties on the B.D.'s and the W. D. are not deemed sufficient, you may have sundry others.
"On your part I only stipulate for a dish of rice always at dinner, black tea, 6 cigars per day, to be smoked by me without remark from you--newspapers, chess, and sundries. Your politics to be always the same as mine. No gentlemen under fifty to be received, except at parties. No musician to be allowed to enter the house; nor any young doctor.
"If you conclude to close with these conditions, let me have advice of it as soon as convenient, that I may wait upon you without loss of time.
"Your most obt. servt.
"JOHN W. ROBERTSON.
"N.B. It may be well to mention, that with respect to furniture, I cannot allow a piano, considering them as nuisances. Shall not object to any reasonable number of sofas and rocking-chairs.--Astral lamps at discretion.--Beg to call your attention to the allowance of gowns and bonnets.--Consider it remarkably liberal.--With respect to dress, sundries of course."
To this letter half an hour brought a concise answer, containing a civil but decided refusal, which Mr. Robertson, though quite crest-fallen, could not forbear showing to Wynslade, telling him that he now withdrew from the market. On the following morning our hero left Somerford on a tour to Canada.
Wynslade immediately laid siege to Selina Mansel, and being young, handsome, intelligent, and very much in love, he found little difficulty in obtaining her heart and hand.
After their marriage the young couple continued to live with Mr. Mansel, who since the affair of Robertson has taken especial care that Selina shall always be well supplied with cents, frequently procuring her from the bank five dollars' worth at a time.
John W. Robertson finally established himself in one of the large Atlantic cities; and in process of time his vanity recovered from the shock that had been given it by Miss Mansel. He has lately married a young widow, who being dependent with her five children on the bounty of her sister's husband, in whose house she lived with all her family, had address enough to persuade him that she loved him for himself alone.
THE LADIES' BALL.
"Then, thrilling to the harp's gay sound, So sweetly rung each vaulted wall, And echoed light the dancer's bound, As mirth and music cheer'd the hall."--SCOTT.
The gentlemen who were considered as the _elite_ of a certain city that shall be nameless, had been for some years in the practice of giving, about Christmas, a splendid ball to the ladies of the same circle. But at the period from which we date the commencement of our story, Christmas was fast approaching, and there had, as yet, been no intimation of the usual practical compliment.
Conjecture was busy among the ladies as to the cause of this extraordinary defection; but it was most generally attributed to the palpable fact that the attention of the gentlemen had been recently directed to a very different channel. In short, the beaux were now taking vast strides in the march of intellect, pioneered by certain newly popular lecturers in various departments of science. The pursuit of knowledge, both useful and useless, had become the order of the day.
Profound were the researches into those mysteries of nature that in this world can never be elucidated: and long and elaborate were the dissertations on points that, when established, would not be worth a farthing.
The "beaux turned savans," had formed themselves into an association to which they had given a polysyllabic name of Greek etymology, and beyond the power of female tongue to pronounce, or of female hand to write; but a very young girl designated it as the Fee-faw-fum Society. They hired a spare room in one of the public buildings, and assembled there "in close divan" on stated nights when there were no evening lectures: several of the ologists holding forth to their classes of afternoons.
One seemingly indispensable instructor brought up the rear of the host of lecturers, and this was a professor of mnemonics: that is, a gentleman who gave lessons in memory, pledging himself to furnish the minds of his pupils with a regular set of springs, which as soon as touched would instantly unlock the treasures of knowledge that were laid up in "the storehouse of the brain:" the springs being acted upon by certain sheets of engraved and coloured hieroglyphics, some of which were numerical figures, others represented trees and houses, and cats and dogs, much in the style of what children call primer pictures. Some of our readers may, perhaps, recollect this professor, who made the circuit of the Union a few years since.