Chapter XI

Miss Arabella Thorne was the daughter of an old citizen of New York, a worthy man, a plumber by trade, who, by means of plenty of work, small competition, and high prices, managed to scrape together fifty or sixty thousand dollars, which from time to time he judiciously invested in real estate. Late in life he married a tall, lean, sour-visaged spinster, considerably past thirty, with nothing whatever to recommend her except that she belonged to one of the first families. The fact is, she was a poor relation, and had all her life been passed around from cousin to cousin, each endeavoring to shift the burden as quick as possible. As she grew older she became more fretful and ill tempered, until it was a serious question with all interested how to dispose of her. Of late years she had taken to novel reading, and when engaged with a favorite romance, she was so peevish and irritable, that, to use a common expression, there was no living with her.

Things were at this pass when Thorn (he spelled his name without an _e_) was called to do some work at the house of Mr. de Silver, an uncle of the 'poor relation,' with whom she was then staying. This gentleman, who for years had been at his wits' end to know what to do with his niece, conceived the design of marrying her to Thorn, who was in good circumstances, and could give her a comfortable home. It so happened that she was at that time absorbed with a novel (she always fancied herself the heroine) where the principal character was called on to make a sacrifice, and by so doing married a nobleman in disguise. She therefore was ready; but it was not without some difficulty that Thorn was brought into the arrangement. However, the distinction of marrying so much above him, and the advantage which might avail to his children, overcame his natural good sense, and the 'poor relation' became Mrs. Thorn.

It is very certain that Mrs. Thorn would have been the death of her husband in a reasonably short period, had she not herself been suddenly cut off the second year of her married life, leaving an infant a few hours old, whom she named Arabella, after her last heroine, just as the breath was leaving her body.

Mr. Thorn buried his wife, and was comforted. He never married again. His eighteen months' experience was sufficient. He even consented to give up the direction of the infant, who would _not_ be a poor relation like her mother, to Mrs. de Silver, who proceeded to look after it quite as she would one of her own children.

[And this was all because old Thorn was getting rich, and would probably not marry again, and Arabella would have his money.]

When Arabella was ten years old, her father died. By his will he made Mr. de Silver his executor, but prudently forbade any sale of his real estate till his daughter should be twenty-one, when she was to enter into possession. The personal property was ample for her meantime. Arabella grew up quite as the adopted child of the De Silvers. They had no daughter, but were blessed with three sons. The youngest was but ten years older than Arabella, for whom Mrs. de Silver had destined him. Miss Thorne (to whose name an _e_ had been mysteriously added) bore a strong resemblance to her deceased mother, but there was one striking, I may say overwhelming difference between them. Mrs. Thorn had all her life been poor and dependent, and treated as such while thrown about from house to house for a precarious home. She was crossed and snubbed, and a naturally unamiable temper made a thousand times worse by the treatment she received. Arabella was rich and independent, and spoiled by over indulgence to her idle whims and caprices. For Mrs. de Silver, intent on making the match, did not dare cross her dear Arabella in the least thing. She was shrewd, and soon perceived that she controlled the situation, and did not hesitate to take advantage of it. In fact, she kept everybody dancing attendance on her. Fond of admiration to an absurd degree, she still had a constant suspicion that she was courted for her money. As I have said, in person she resembled her mother, but here wealth came in to do away with the resemblance. True, she was tall and angular, but she made up superbly, so that on looking at her one would exclaim: 'What a stylish woman!' True, her features were homely, and her complexion without freshness, but over these were spread the magic atmosphere of fashion and assured position. She had a consciousness which repelled any idea that _she_ could be otherwise than handsome, fascinating, intelligent, and everything else desirable, and this consciousness actually produced, in a large majority, the pleasing illusion that she was really all these. But she was not. On the contrary, stripped of the gloss, she was censorious, supercilious, and selfish. Deprived of her dressmaker, she was gaunt and unsightly. Separated from her position, she would have been unbearable. Arabella had many offers, of course, but she was too fond of her power and too suspicious of an attempt on her purse to yield easily. She was enough of a coquette not absolutely to destroy the hopes of an admirer, but managed to keep him dangling in her train. She had never absolutely discouraged young De Silver, but she would not commit herself even to Mrs. de S., who still fondly hoped that the money of the industrious plumber would come into her family. So matters ran on till Miss Thorne was of age. Mr. de Silver evidently did not suppose there was to be any change in the management of his ward's affairs. He was soon undeceived. The young lady, about two weeks after the event, asked for a private interview with her guardian, and very quietly, after a series of polite phrases, announced that from that time she should herself take charge of her own property. There was nothing in this to which Mr. de Silver could object. Beyond some advantages which he derived from its management, without injury to his ward, it was of no importance; but he was not a little mortified nevertheless. It looked as if there was a lack of confidence in his management, but he could only assent, and say his accounts were ready for her inspection. The truth is that Arabella had made some acquaintances who ranked a grade higher in the fashionable world even than the De Silvers. They had impressed her with an idea that it would add to her importance to have her own 'solicitor' and take on herself the management of her affairs. To this end she had consulted Mr. Farrar, a well-known and experienced lawyer, who had been recommended to her by one of her friends. Just then speculation in real estate was rife, and prices had reached an extravagant point. The first thing which Miss Thorne did under the advice of Mr. Farrar, was to sell from time to time, as opportunity offered, all the real estate which her father had left her, and invest it in personal securities. In this way a very large sum was realized, and Miss Thorne's labors soon reduced to the simple task of receiving her semi-annual dividends. Mr. Bennett had not overrated the value of her property when he pronounced her worth two hundred thousand dollars. On the contrary, it is probable one might add fifty thousand to the computation and be nearer the mark.

When Mrs. de Silver saw the independent course Miss Thorne was pursuing, she became still more assiduous in her efforts to please her dear Arabella. The latter, since it was still convenient to live with the De Silvers, was sufficiently amiable, but she never omitted an opportunity to show that she was her own mistress and intended to continue so. The De Silvers were Episcopalians, but they did not attend the most fashionable church. Miss Thorne very soon purchased an expensive pew in St. Jude's, and although Mrs. de Silver kept a carriage which was always at Miss Thorne's disposal, the latter set up a handsome brougham of her own. The young lady, after joining her new church, had determined to distinguish herself. She was not content with moderate performances. She aspired to lead. She kept at the very height of fashion. Yet St. Jude's had no more zealous member. She was an inveterate party goer, and nothing pleased her better than to have double engagements through the whole season; but the period of Lent found her utterly _dévote_--a most zealous attendant on all the ordinances of the Church. She was very intimate with Mr. Myrtle, and it is probable no one had half so much influence with her as the Rev. Charles Myrtle himself. She had her _protégés_ also--generally some handsome young fellow about taking orders, whose devotion to Miss Thorne was perfectly excruciating. Time went on and Miss Arabella Thorne was carried along in the train of the tyrant. With the passing years she became more intensely fashionable, more bigoted, more fond of admiration, more difficult to please. She had refused so many offers, while she had coquetted so much, that young men began to avoid her. This greatly increased her natural irritability; made her jealous of the success of every rising belle, censorious, ill natured in remark, and generally disagreeable. When Hiram Meeker first saw Miss Arabella Thorne in her pew at St. Jude's, the interesting young woman was (dare I mention it?) already twenty-eight. In respect to appearance, she had altered very little since she was eighteen. So much depended on her milliner, her dressmaker, her costumer, and her maid, and to their credit be it spoken, they performed their duty so well, that the 'ravages' of the fashionable seasons she had passed through were not at all visible. There were times when Miss Arabella Thorne would confess to herself that she ought to marry. But with every succeeding birthday came increased suspicion that she was sought only for her fortune.

Such was the position of affairs when the shrewd wholesale drygoods merchant, satisfied that all his cousin cared for in matrimony was money, conceived the idea of making a match between Hiram and the fashionable Arabella. It did not take the former long, after Mr. Bennett once explained just how things stood, to comprehend exactly the situation, and to form and mature his plans accordingly. He had committed a blunder, as Mr. Bennett termed it, in giving up Miss Tenant, but that was a conventional mistake, if, which it is very doubtful, Hiram ever admitted that it was a mistake. Here, however, he could bring his keen knowledge of human nature to play, and once understanding the character of Miss Thorne, he felt fully equal to the enterprise. In fact, Hiram was once more on his old ground, and he enjoyed the idea of the contest he was about to engage in.

Mr. Myrtle was fully enlisted on Hiram's side. He was much pleased with the addition of a wealthy, rising young man--and a proselyte besides--to his church. He feared that Miss Thorne might in time be lost to it by her marrying outside of his congregation. Here was a capital chance to secure _her_ and add to his own influence and popularity.

He was too astute to approach the subject directly. Miss Thorne might be suspicious even of him. He would give her no opportunity. Mr. Myrtle was too polished and too refined a man, too dignified indeed, to even _appear_ in the light of a match maker. But assurance was conveyed by Mrs. Myrtle to Mrs. Bennett, and thence _via_ Mr. Bennett confidentially to Hiram, that Mr. Myrtle might be relied on to do everything in his power in the delicate business.

Thus fortified, and conscious of the aid of the Bennett family, which was a very strong point, our hero entered on the fall and winter campaign, resolved before it was over to secure the two hundred thousand dollars of the fashionable Arabella, and, as it must needs be, that inestimable person along with it.

I have mentioned their first sight of each other in church, and the curiosity of Miss Thorne to know who the young man in the next pew could be. And here Hiram's generalship must be specially noticed. Mrs. Bennett proposed to bring about an immediate introduction by arranging an _accidental_ meeting at her house. This Hiram peremptorily objected to; and in speaking on the subject with Mr. Bennett, with whom all his conversations were held, he displayed such a subtle insight into the character, habits, and peculiarities of Miss Thorne, that Mr. Bennett was amazed. He afterward told his wife she must let Hiram have his own way, as the fellow knew more than all of them.

Two parties came off the following week, to both of which Hiram was invited through the influence of the Bennetts. Miss Thorne was of course present. Hiram, now perfectly at his ease, and fashionably attired, made no insignificant display. He was introduced to a great many young ladies, and saluting two or three of the most attractive, he paid at different stages of the evening assiduous court to them. His waltzing was really superb [O Hiram, what a change!], and not a few inquired, 'Who is he?' Mrs. Bennett was really proud to answer, 'A cousin of ours. A very fine young man, indeed--very rich.'

Miss Thorne did not ask any questions--not she; but she quickly recognized in the waltzer the occupant of the pew who had already attracted her notice. She waited complacently for the moment when Hiram should be led up to her for presentation, and she had already decided just how she should receive him. She was resolved to ruffle his complacency, and thus punish him for not paying his first tribute to her charms; then, so she settled it, she would relax, and permit him to waltz with her.

When the evening passed, and the fashionable young man had made no demonstration, she was amazed. Such a thing had never happened before. To think he should not ask _her_, while he devoted half the evening to Miss Innis, who waltzed shockingly (every one knew that), and who had no money either!

She went home in a very uncomfortable state of mind.

The following Wednesday there was a repetition of this very scene. The party was even more brilliant than the last, Miss Thorne more exquisitely dressed, but Hiram kept aloof. Miss Thorne had never been slighted before--never. This evening she was tempted to waive her pride, and inquire of her dear friend Mrs. Bennett, with whom she saw Hiram conversing--but the thought was too humiliating, and she forbore.

How she hated the wretch!--that is, as women hate, and as men like to be hated. What should she do? Could she endure to attend another party, and be so treated? Why, the creature never even looked toward her! What right had he to dress so fashionably and to waltz with such ease, and in fact appear so well every way? To occupy quite by himself the very best pew in St. Jude's, directly in front of her! What audacity! Then his provoking _nonchalance_. Oh, what was she to do? She should go crazy. Not quite that. She would first inquire of Mr. Myrtle, in a very careless manner. So she ran in that same morning on the accomplished clergyman, and was speedily in a full gallop of conversation.

'By the way,' she exclaimed, at length, as if a new thought had suddenly struck her, 'pray, tell me, who is my new neighbor? I intended asking the last time I saw you, but forgot it.'

The Rev. Charles Myrtle looked completely mystified, and asked with his eyes, plainly as eyes could ask, 'Pray, what do you mean?'

'I see you don't take. I mean the new occupant of the Winslows' pew; some relation, I suppose.'

'Oh, no. He is a cousin of the Bennetts, a young merchant, who has purchased the pew.'

'Indeed? A good churchman, I hope, if he is to sit so near me.'

'I should judge so. I am but slightly acquainted with him. Mrs. Bennett, however, speaks of him in the most enthusiastic terms. She says he has but one fault (I mention it to save you young people from disappointment), which is, that he is not fond of ladies' society.'

'I know better,' interrupted Miss Thorne, betraying herself; for she was thinking of what she had witnessed at the two parties. Too much a woman of the world to blush or betray any embarrassment, she as quickly recovered, and added, laughingly, 'No one can make me believe he takes all that pains with his dress for nothing.'

'Now I think of it, he does dress in very good taste,' said Mr. Myrtle carelessly. 'I think, however, what Mrs. Bennett meant to convey is that Mr. Meeker is not a marrying man. She says he is very rich, and has a horror of being caught, as it is called.'

'So then his name is Meeker,' replied Miss Thorne, with an absent air, as if she had paid no attention to Mr. Myrtle's concluding observation, though she had drunk in every word with eager interest.

'Yes. You will probably meet him at the Bennetts', though I do not think he would please you, Miss Arabella. [Mr. Myrtle knew the weakness of spinsters after reaching a certain age for being called by their first name.] You are too _exegeante_, my dear young lady, and Mr. Meeker is devoted to affairs.'

'I wonder Mrs. Myrtle does not return; she told me she would not be gone two minutes,' said Miss Thorne, with the air of complete indifference to what Mr. Myrtle was saying, which a fashionable thorough-bred knows so well how to assume.

'Here she is,' said Mr. Myrtle. 'I will leave you together, and go back to my labors. Good morning.'

Miss Thorne by this time was really very much excited; so much so that she could not resist speaking of Hiram to Mrs. Myrtle, though of course in the same accidental way in which she had inquired of her husband.

Mrs. Myrtle of course had much more to say in reply. All about Hiram's joining their church--what a good young man he was, how conscientious, how devoted to business, and how rich, and getting richer every day.

Miss Thorne drew herself up slightly, as if that could be of no consequence to _her_. Still she unbent directly, and said with an amiable smile, as if simply to continue the conversation, 'But Mr. Myrtle says he is a woman hater.'

'Oh, I think not so bad as that; but Mrs. Bennett says the ladies are all crazy about him, and he has a ridiculous suspicion that they are after his money.'

'The wretch!' exclaimed Miss Arabella, laughing.

'So I say,' rejoined Mrs. Myrtle. 'But the fact is, Mrs. Bennett says that Mr. Meeker thinks too much about business, and if he goes on in this way he will never get married, and she tells him she is determined he shall marry.'

'A very proper resolve!' exclaimed Miss Thorne in the same vein.

The conversation now turned on other topics, and after a few minutes Miss Thorne took leave in no very enviable state of mind. Here was a young man about to become one of the stars of fashion, rich, accomplished, quite in her own set, too; yet not a step had he taken toward securing her favor. Why, he might even outstrip her at St. Jude's! Then what _would_ become of her? 'I wonder if he keeps Lent?' she muttered between her clenched teeth, as she walked along.

At that very moment, who should she encounter but Miss Innis, a charming, bewitching, and very fashionable young creature (so all the gentlemen said), to whom at the late parties, as I have already mentioned, Hiram had been devoted the larger part of the evening.

The ladies rushed toward each other and embraced in the most affectionate manner. The usual rapid chitchat ensued.

'What do you think of our new beau?' asked Miss Innis.

Now Miss Thorne was burning with envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness toward the young and rising belle, which was greatly increased by witnessing Hiram's extraordinary devotion to her. After the conversation with Mrs. Myrtle, she could no longer doubt the fact that he was soon to become of decided importance in the fashionable world. The moment she saw Miss Innis approaching, she anticipated some such question as was now put to her, and knowing that through her dear friend Mrs. Bennett she could make Hiram's acquaintance at any time, she had decided how to treat it.

She replied therefore with considerable animation, and as if she knew at once to whom Miss Innis alluded: 'Oh, I think we shall make something of him before the season is over. I tell Mrs. Bennett she must cure him of some little provincialisms, however.'

'Provincialisms!' exclaimed Miss Innis, who prided herself on her family and aristocratic breeding, though she had not wealth to boast of; 'provincialisms! I confess I discovered none, and I certainly had a pretty good opportunity for judging. He waltzes divinely, doesn't he?'

The tantalizing minx knew very well that Miss Thorne could only judge by observation.

'He waltzes with much perfection, certainly,' replied Miss Thorne, with the air of a connoisseur, 'but I think a little stiffly.'

'Quite the reverse, I assure you. I never had a partner with whom it was so easy to waltz. He supports one so perfectly. I declare I am in love with him already. Arabella dear, I give you warning I shall try my best to engross his attention the entire season.'

She laughed as she said this, and Miss Thorne laughed; then these young women of fashion again embraced, and with smiles and amiable expressions went their way.

How suddenly the countenance of each then changed! That of Miss Innis gave unmistakable tokens of contempt and disgust, while Miss Thorne's face expressed a concentrated venom, which, if I had not myself often witnessed, I would not believe is in the power of woman to display.

The rencontre with Miss Innis was so unendurable that Miss Thorne resolved to proceed at once to Mrs. Bennett's, where she could get definite information. Her pride was beginning to give way before her jealousy of a rival.

Mrs. Bennett was at home, and welcomed her dear 'Arabella' with more than usual cordiality. A long conversation ensued before Miss Thorne could bring herself to broach the delicate subject. At last, and it had to be apropos of nothing, she said:

'Oh, I declare, I forgot. Do you know I am angry with you? Yes, very, very angry.'

Mrs. Bennett immediately put on the proper expression.

'Tell me, quick, all about it,' she said. 'I will do penance if I have given you cause.'

'Indeed, you have given great cause. You have undertaken to bring out a gentleman, and your own cousin, too, without presenting him to me, and I made up my mind never to speak to you again; but you see how I keep my resolution.'

'Poor Mr. Meeker!' exclaimed Mrs. Bennett. 'He little thinks in what trouble he has involved me.'

'But what have you to say for _yourself_?' persisted Miss Thorne.

'I declare, Arabella, I don't know what to say. Cousin Hiram is so odd and so obstinate on some points, although in most respects the best creature in the world.'

'Why, what can you mean?'

'I can hardly explain what I do mean. In short, while Cousin Hiram asks my advice in many matters, and, indeed, follows it; yet, where ladies are concerned, he is as obstinate as a mule.'

'But what has that to do with your not presenting him?'

'Well, since you must know,' hesitated Mrs. Bennett, 'he declined being introduced to you.'

'Declined!'

'Yes.'

'It is all through that hateful Mary Innis!' exclaimed Miss Thorne, reddening with rage. 'I know it. I am sure of it. Yes, I see through it all--all.'

'I dare say,' returned Mrs. Bennett. 'I can't believe it either,' she continued. 'He is not so easily influenced. But, Arabella, my dear, think no more of the matter. You will like Mr. Meeker, I know, when you do meet, and all the more for any little obstacle at the beginning. I was just thinking how I could bring you together. What do you say to dropping in at--no, that won't do. I have it; come round this very evening and take tea with us. Mr. Meeker is almost sure to come in. He has not been here this week.'

'Arabella' had her little objections.

'Nonsense, my darling. I am determined you two shall become acquainted before Mrs. Jones's party, and that is next Thursday. Don't forget how fond you are of waltzing, and there Cousin Hiram is superb.'

'I know it,' said Miss Thorne, with a sigh. 'But won't it look strange?'

'Look strange to do what you have done so often, my darling! Now, Arabella, I won't take 'no' from you.'

'I consent,' said Miss Thorne, languidly. 'He won't be rude to me, will he?'

'Rude! why, Arabella, what do you take him for?'

The ladies separated in great good humor.

Miss Thorne, with a view to be revenged on Miss Innis, was determined to secure our hero on any terms. She was at Mrs. Bennett's at the appointed hour. On this occasion her toilette was elaborately simple. She always exhibited, not only great taste, but great propriety, in dress. On this occasion one might readily suppose that, running in for a brief call, she had been induced to prolong her stay.

About eight o'clock, who should arrive but Hiram! What a singular coincidence!

An introduction followed.

Miss Thorne was very natural. She appeared entirely at ease, receiving Hiram with quiet cordiality, as if he were a member of the family.

Hiram, on his part, did not exhibit any of those disagreeable qualities for which he received credit, but was apparently quite disarmed by the domesticity of the scene.

The conversation became general, and all joined in it. After a while Mr. Bennett withdrew to 'spend a half hour at the club,' assuring Miss Thorne he would return in ample time to hand her to her carriage. Presently the servant called Mrs. Bennett, and hero and heroine were left alone together.

There was an awkward pause, which was first broken by Arabella, when the conversation ran on much in this way:

'We are to have a very gay season, I believe.'

'Indeed!'

'I suppose you take a great interest in it?'

'Quite the contrary. I take very little.'

'Still, you seem to enjoy parties.'

'Why, yes. When I go, the best thing I can do is to enjoy them.'

'But you like to go, don't you?'

'I can scarcely say I do--sometimes, perhaps.'

'A person who waltzes as well as you do ought to like parties, I am sure.'

'I feel very much flattered to have you praise my waltzing.'

There was another pause. It was again broken by Miss Thorne.

'Do you know I think you so droll?'

'Me! pray, what is there droll about me?'

'Oh, I don't know. I can't tell. But you are droll--very droll.'

'Really, I was not conscious of it.'

'Were you aware that you occupy a seat directly in front of me in church?'

'Certainly; that's not droll, is it?'

'Well, yes; I think it is, rather. But that is not what I was going to say. Will you answer me one question truly? It will seem strange for me to ask it,' simpered Arabella; 'but you must know your cousin Mrs. Bennett and I are the dearest friends--the _very_ dearest friends; and meeting you here, it seems different, and I am not so much afraid of you.'

Hiram sat with eyes wide open, in affected ignorance of what could possibly come next.

'Now you put me out, indeed you do; I can never say what I was going to, in the world.'

'_Do_,' said Hiram, gently.

'Well, will you tell me why you refused to be introduced to me, and who it is that has so prejudiced you against me?'

'No one, I assure you,' replied Hiram.

'Then why did you decline the introduction? It is of no use to deny it; I know you _did_ decline it.'

'I heard you were an heiress,' replied Hiram naively, 'and I don't like heiresses.'

'Why not, pray?'

'Oh, for various reasons. They are always such vain, stuck-up creatures. Then they are excessively requiring, and generally disagreeable.'

'You saucy thing, you,' exclaimed Miss Thorne, but by no means in a displeased tone.

'Then why did you ask me? I must tell the truth. I confess I did not want to make your acquaintance. Everybody was talking about Miss Thorne--Miss Thorne--Miss Thorne. For my part, it made me detest you.'

'Oh, you horrible creature,' said Arabella, now quite appeased.

'I don't deny it,' continued Hiram, pleasantly. 'I repeat, I can't bear an heiress. I wouldn't marry one for the whole world.'

'Why, pray?'

'Because she would want her separate purse and separate property, and it would be _her_ house, and _her_ horses and carriage, _her_ coachman, and so on. Oh no--nothing of that for me. I will be master of my own establishment.'

'What a savage you are! I declare it is as refreshing to hear you talk as it would be to visit a tribe of Indians.'

'You are complimentary.'

'You see I do you justice, though we are enemies. But tell me now that you have been introduced to me, do I seem at all dangerous?'

Hiram Meeker's countenance changed from an expression of pleasant badinage to one of sentimental interest, while he gazed abstractedly in the young lady's face, without making any reply.

Arabella's heart beat violently, she scarce knew why.

'You do not answer,' she said.

'I cannot tell,' said Hiram, dreamily; then, starting, as if from a revery, he said, in his former tone, 'Oh, your sex are all dangerous; only there are degrees.'

'I see you are not disposed to commit yourself. I will not urge you. But do you think you will be afraid to waltz with me at the next party?'

'It was the introduction I objected to, not the waltz.'

'Then you consent?'

'With your permission, gladly.'

'The first waltz at the next party?'

'The first waltz at the next party.'

It is not necessary to detail the conversation which ensued, and which was of a more general nature, referring to New York society, life _à la mode_, the reigning belles, then by an easy transition to Mr. Myrtle, and topics connected with St. Jude's. Soon they fell into quite a confidential tone, as church subjects of mutual interest were discussed, so that, when Mrs. Bennett returned to the room, it seemed almost like an interruption.

'I knew you two would like each other if you ever became acquainted,' said Mrs. Bennett, with animation.

'Pray, how do you arrive at any such conclusion?' replied Miss Thorne, in a reserved tone, while she gave Hiram a glance which was intended to assure him she was merely assuming it.

'Oh, never mind, my dear; it is not of so much consequence about your liking Hiram. You may detest him, if you please, but I am resolved he shall like you, for you are my pet, you know.'

Arabella looked affectionate, and Hiram laughed.

'Oh, you may laugh as much as you please; men cannot understand our attachments for each other, can they, Arabella?'

'No, indeed.'

'That is true enough,' quoth Hiram.

After Mr. Bennett came in, a handsome little supper was served. That concluded, Hiram waited on Miss Thorne to her carriage.

'I shall expect you to take back all the naughty things you have said about me to your cousin,' she said, very sweetly, after she was seated.

'About you, yes; but not about the _heiress_. But--but if you were not one, I do think I should like you pretty well. As it is, the objection is insuperable; good night.'

Away went carriage and horses and Arabella Thorne. Hiram stepped back into the house.

'My wife says you have made a splendid hit to-night, Hiram,' remarked Mr. Bennett.

'Does she?' replied the other, in an absent tone.

* * * * *

Hiram went late to Mrs. Jones's party.

So did Miss Thorne.

In a pleasant mood, Mrs. Bennett walked with her cousin to where the heiress was standing, and said, 'Miss Thorne, this is Mr. Meeker. I believe, however, you have met before.'

The waltzing had already commenced, and Hiram led his not unwilling partner to the floor, where they were soon giddily whirling, to the intense admiration of the lookers on.

It was now Hiram felt grateful to the unknown young lady who taught him how to waltz _close_. He practised it on this occasion to perfection. Arabella, by degrees, leaned more and more heavily. One arm resting fondly on his shoulder, she was drawn into immediate contact with Hiram's _calculating_ heart. Round and round she sped--round and round sped Hiram, until the two were so blended that it was difficult to decide who or what were revolving.

At last Arabella was forced to yield. Faintly she sighed, 'I must stop,' and Hiram, coming to a graceful termination, seated her in triumph--the master of the situation!

Miss Innis looked on and smiled. Others expressed their admiration of the performance. None could deny it was very perfect.

Soon they were on the floor again, and again Arabella struggled hard for the mastery. It was in vain. After repeated attempts to hold the field, she was obliged to yield.

Hiram was too familiar with the sex to attempt to pursue his advantage. Indeed, Miss Arabella, having accomplished her object in showing Miss Innis that she _could_ monopolize Hiram if she chose, would have been quite ready to play the coquette and assume the dignified.

Hiram was prepared for this, and further was resolved not to expose himself to any manifestation of her caprice. He perceived Miss Thorne was disinclined to converse, and fancied she was preparing to be reserved. So he passed quietly into the next room, where he found Miss Innis quite ready to welcome him, though surrounded by a number of gentlemen. He claimed her for the next waltz by virtue of an engagement entered into at Mrs. Jones's. Soon the music commenced, and away they went, responsive to its fascinating strains. Both waltzed admirably. They entered with zest into the spirit of the scene and with that sympathy of motion which makes every step so easy and so enjoyable. There was no rivalry, no holding out against the other. The pauses were natural, not by either, but, as it were, by mutual understanding. Miss Thorne was also on the floor with a very showy partner, doing her best to attract attention. She managed, as she swept by her rival, _accidentally_ to step on her dress in a very damaging manner. But Miss Innis was one of those natural creatures who are never discomfited by such an occurrence. She very quietly withdrew, and in about two minutes was on the floor again.

'It is well,' said Hiram to her in a low tone, 'that this happened to you instead of Miss Thorne.'

'Why?'

'Because she never could have appeared again the same evening.'

Miss Innis smiled, and spoke of something else. The little hit did not seem in the least to gratify her.

Hiram noted this. 'Youth and beauty can well afford to be amiable, but it does not always happen that they are so,' he whispered.

Miss Innis looked at him seriously, but made no reply; and the two took seats within the recess of a window.

At this moment Miss Thorne, having stopped waltzing, passed across the room to the same vicinity, and stood talking with a gentleman, in a position to command a view of the couple just seated. As Hiram raised his eyes he encountered hers, for she was looking intently toward him. He saw enough to be satisfied that his plans were working to perfection.

Without appearing to notice her presence, he continued the conversation with his partner, and so engrossing did it become on both sides that neither seemed aware of the rapid flight of the hours. And it was only when Miss Innis perceived that the rooms were becoming thinned that she started up with an exclamation of surprise that it was so late.

Hiram Meeker walked slowly homeward. He could not resist a certain influence from stealing over him.

'Why is it,' he muttered to himself, 'that all the handsome girls are without money, and all the rich ones are ugly?'

He drew a long sigh, as if it were hard for him to give up such a lovely creature. He soon reached his lodgings, and going to his room, he seated himself before the fire, which burned cheerfully in the grate, and remained for a time completely lost in thought.

* * * * *

O Hiram Meeker, is it even now too late to obey some natural instincts? You are well embarked in affairs, have already made money enough to support a wife pleasantly. Your business is daily increasing, your mercantile position for a young man remarkably well assured. Here is a really lovely young girl--a little spoiled, it may be, by fashionable associations, but amiable, intelligent, and true hearted. Probably you might win her, for she seems to like you. The connection would give you position, for you would marry into an old and most respectable family. True, you have conducted yourself shamefully toward Emma Tenant--to say nothing of Miss Burns. Let that pass. There is still opportunity to retrace. Attempt to win Miss Innis. If you do win her, what a happy home will be yours! As for Miss Thorne--Hiram, you _know_ what she is. You despise her in your heart. Besides, she is almost twenty-nine--you but twenty-seven. Will her money compensate? O Hiram, stop--stop now, and think!

This may have been the revery of Hiram Meeker.

* * * * *

At last he rose and prepared to retire. Doubtless he had made a final and irrevocable decision.

What was it?