Match-Making
"You are a sly girl, Mary.""Not by general reputation, I believe, Mrs. Martindale.""Oh no. Every one thinks you a little paragon of propriety. But Ican see as deep as most people.""You might as well talk in High Dutch to me, Mrs. Martindale. Youwould be equally intelligible.""You are a very innocent girl, Mary.""I hope I am. Certainly I am not conscious of wishing harm to anyone. But pray, Mrs. Martindale, oblige me by coming a little nearerto the point.""You don't remember any thing about Mrs. Allenson's party--ofcourse?""It would be strange if I did not.""Oh yes. Now you begin to comprehend a little.""Do speak out plainly, Mrs. Martindale!""So innocent! Ah me, Mary! you are a sly girl. You didn't see anything of a young man there with dark eyes and hair, and a beautifulwhite, high forehead?""If there was an individual there, answering to your description, itis highly probable that I did see him. But what then?""Oh, nothing, of course!""You are trifling with me, Mrs. Martindale.""Seriously, then, Mary, I was very much pleased to notice theattentions shown you by Mr. Fenwick, and more pleased at seeing howmuch those attentions appeared to gratify you. He is a young man ina thousand.""I am sure I saw nothing very particular in his attentions to me;and I am very certain that I was also more gratified at theattentions shown by him, than I was by those of other young menpresent.""Of course not.""You seem to doubt my word?""Oh no--I don't doubt your word. But on these subjects young ladiesfeel themselves privileged to--to"----"To what, Mrs. Martindale?""Nothing--only. But don't you think Mr. Fenwick a charming youngman?""I didn't perceive any thing very remarkable about him.""He did about you. I saw that, clearly.""How can you talk so to me, Mrs. Martindale?""Oh la! Do hear the girl! Did you never have a beau, Mary?""Yes, many a one. What of it?""And a lover too?""I know nothing about lovers."As Mary Lester said this, her heart made a fluttering bound, and anemotion, new and strange, but sweet, swelled and trembled in herbosom."But you soon will, Mary, or I'm mistaken."Mrs. Martindale saw the cheek of the fair girl kindle, and her eyebrighten, and she said to herself, with an inward smile ofsatisfaction--"I'll make a match of it yet--see if I don't! What a beautifulcouple they will be!"Mrs. Martindale was one of that singular class of elderly ladieswhose chief delight consists in match-making. Many and many a couplehad she brought together in her time, and she lived in the pleasinghope of seeing many more united. It was a remarkable fact, however,that in nearly every instance where her kind offices had beeninterposed, the result had not been the very happiest in the world.This fact, however, never seemed to strike her. The one great end ofher life was to get people together--to pair them off. Whether theyjogged on harmoniously together, or pulled separate ways, was noconcern of hers. Her business was to make the matches. As to livingin harmony, or the opposite, that concerned the couples themselves,and to that they must look themselves. It was enough for her to makethe matches, without being obliged to accord the dispositions.As in every thing else, practice makes perfect, so in thisoccupation, practice gave to Mrs. Martindale great skill indiscerning character--at least, of such character as she couldoperate on. And she could, moreover, tell the progressive states ofmind of those upon whom she exercised her kind offices, almost astruly as if she heard them expressed in words. It was, therefore,clear to her, after her first essay, that Mary Lester's affectionsmight very easily be brought out and made to linger about the youngman whom she had, in her wisdom, chosen as her husband. As Mary wasa very sweet girl, and, moreover, had a father well to do in theworld, she had no fears about interesting Mr. Fenwick in her favour.Only a few days passed before Mrs. Martindale managed to throwherself into the company of the young man."How were you pleased with the party, Mr. Fenwick?" she began."At Mrs. Allenson's?""Yes.""Very much.""So I thought.""Did I seem, then, particularly pleased?""I thought so.""Indeed! Well, I can't say that I was interested a great deal morethan I usually am on such occasions.""Not a great deal more?""No, I certainly was not.""But a little more?""Perhaps I was; but I cannot be positive.""Oh yes. I know it. And I'm of the opinion that you were not theonly person there who was interested a little more than usual.""Ah, indeed! And who was the other, pray?""A dear little girl, whom I could mention.""Who was she?""The sweetest young lady in the room.""Well, what was her name?""Can't you guess?""I am not good at guessing.""Try.""Mary Lester?""Of course! Ha! ha! ha! I knew it.""Knew what?""Oh yes, Mr. Innocence! Knew what!""You are disposed to be quite merry, Mrs. Martindale.""I always feel merry when I see a young couple like you and MaryLester mutually pleased with each other.""Mutually pleased?""Of course, mutually pleased.""How do you know that, Mrs. Martindale?""Haven't I got a good pair of eyes in my head?""Very good, I should certainly think, to make such a wonderfuldiscovery.""Seriously, though, Mr. Fenwick, do you not think Mary Lester a verysweet girl?""Certainly I do.""And just such a one as you could love?""Any one, it seems to me, might love Mary Lester; but then, it isjust as apparent that she could not love any one who might chance tooffer.""Of course not. And I should be very sorry to think that she could.But of one thing I am certain, she cannot look upon you withunfavourable eyes.""Mrs. Martindale!""I am in earnest, Mr. Fenwick.""What reason have you for thinking so?""Very good reason. I had my eyes on you both at Mrs. Allenson'sparty, and I saw as plain as could be that Mary was deeplyinterested. Since then, I have met her, and observed her eyebrighten and her cheek kindle at the mention of your name. Mr.Fenwick, she is a prize well worth winning, and may be yours.""Are you, then, really serious?" the young man now said, his toneand manner changing."Assuredly I am, Mr. Fenwick.""Mary Lester, you know, moves in a circle above my own; that is, herfather is accounted rich, and I am known to have nothing but my ownenergies to depend upon.""All that is nothing. Win her affections, and she must be yours.""But I am not so certain that I can do that.""Nonsense! It is half done already.""You seem very positive about the matter.""Because I am never mistaken on these subjects. I can tell, themoment I see a young couple together, whether they will suit eachother or not.""And you think, then, that we will just suit?""Certainly I do.""I only wish that I could think so.""Do you, indeed? I am glad to hear you say that. I thought you couldnot be insensible to the charms of so sweet a girl.""Do you, then, really believe that if I offered myself to MaryLester, she would accept me?""If you went the right way about it, I am sure she would.""What do you mean by the right way?""The right way for you, of course, is to endeavour to win heraffections. She is already, I can see, strongly prepossessed in yourfavour, but is not herself aware to what extent her feelings areinterested. Throw yourself into her company as much as you can, andwhen in her company pay her the kindest attentions. But do not visither at her own house at present, or her father may crush the wholeaffair. When I see her again, I will drop a word in your favour.""I am certainly very much indebted to you, Mrs. Martindale, for yourkind hints and promised interference. I have often felt drawn towardMary, but always checked the feeling, because I had no idea that I,could make an impression on her mind.""Faint heart never won fair lady," was Mrs. Martindale's encouragingresponse."Well, Mary," said the lady to Miss Lester, a few days afterward,"have you seen Mr. Fenwick since?""Mr. Fenwick!" said she, in tones of affected surprise."Yes, Mr. Fenwick.""No--of course not. Why do you ask so strange a question? He doesnot visit me.""Don't he? Well, I have seen him.""Have you? Then I hope you were very much delighted with hiscompany, for he seems to be a favourite of yours.""He certainly is a favourite of mine, Mary. I have known him for agood many years, and have always esteemed him highly. There are fewyoung men who can claim to be his equal.""I doubt not but there are hundreds to be met with every day as goodas he.""Perhaps so, Mary. I have not, however, been so fortunate as to comeacross them.""No doubt he is a paragon!""Whether he be one or not, he at least thinks there is no one likeyou.""Like me!" ejaculated Mary, taken thus suddenly by surprise, whilethe colour mounted to her face, and deepened about her eyes andforehead."Yes, like you. The fact is, Mary, he thinks and speaks of you inthe kindest terms. You have evidently interested him very much.""I certainly never intended to do so, Mrs. Martindale.""Of course not, Mary. I never supposed for a moment that you had.Still he is interested, and deeply so."Having ventured thus far, Mrs. Martindale deemed it prudent to sayno more for the present, but to leave her insinuations to work uponMary's heart what they were designed to effect. She was satisfiedthat all was as she could wish--that both Fenwick and Mary wereinterested in each other; and she knew enough of the human heart,and of her own power over it, when exercised in a certain way, toknow that it would not be long before they were much more deeplyinterested.Like all the rest of Mrs. Martindale's selections of parties formatrimony, the present was a very injudicious one. Mary was onlyseventeen--too young, by three or four years, to be able properly tojudge of character; and Fenwick was by no means a suitable man forher husband. He was himself only about twenty-one, with a characternot yet fully decided, though the different constituents of his mindwere just ready to take their various positions, and fixed anddistinctive forms. Unfortunately, these mental and moral relationswere not truly balanced; there was an evident bias of selfishnessand evil over generous and true principles. As Mrs. Martindale wasno profound judge of character, she could not, of course, make atrue discrimination of Fenwick's moral fitness for the husband ofMary Lester. Indeed, she never attempted to analyze character, norhad she an idea of any thing beneath the surface. Personalappearance, an affable exterior, and a little flattery of herself,were the three things which, in her estimation, went to make up aperfect character--were enough to constitute the beau ideal of ahusband for any one.Mary's father was a merchant of considerable wealth and standing insociety, and possessing high-toned feelings and principles. Mary washis oldest child. He loved her tenderly, and, moreover, felt all aparent's pride in one so young, so lovely, and so innocent.Fenwick had, until within a few months, been a clerk in a retaildry-goods store, at a very small salary. A calculating, but not toohonest a wholesale dealer in the same line, desirous of getting ridof a large stock of unsaleable goods, proposed to the young man toset him up in business--a proposition which was instantly accepted.The credit thus furnished to Fenwick was an inducement for others tosell to him; and so, without a single dollar of capital, he obtaineda store full of goods. The scheme of the individual who had thusinduced him to venture upon a troubled and uncertain sea, was to getpaid fair prices for his own depreciated goods out of Fenwick'sfirst sales, and then gradually to withdraw his support, compellinghim to buy of other jobbing houses, until his indebtedness to himwould be but nominal. He was very well assured that the youngmerchant could not stand it over a year or two, and for that lengthof time only by a system of borrowing and accommodations; but as tothe result he cared nothing, so that he effected a good sale of abad stock.Notwithstanding such an unpromising condition of his affairs, evenif fully known to Mr. Lester, that gentleman would not have stronglyopposed a union of his daughter with Mr. Fenwick, had he been a manof strong mind, intelligence, energy, and high-toned principles--forhe was philosopher enough to know that these will elevate a manunder any circumstances. But Fenwick had no decided points in hischaracter. He had limited intelligence, and no energy arising fromclear perceptions and strong resolutions. He was a man fit tocaptivate a young and innocent girl, but not to hold the affectionof a generous-minded woman.In the natural order of events, such a circumstance as a marriageunion between the daughter of Mr. Lester, and an individual likeFenwick, was not at all likely to occur. But a meddlesome woman,who, by the accident of circumstances, had found free access to thefamily of Mr. Lester, set herself seriously at work to interferewith the orderly course of things, and effect a conjunction betweentwo in no way fitted for each other, either in externalcircumstances or similarity of character. But let us trace theprogress of this artificial passion, fanned into a blaze by theofficious Mrs. Martindale. After having agitated the heart of Marywith the idea of being beloved, while she coolly calculated itseffects upon her, the match-monger sought an early opportunity foranother interview with Fenwick."I have seen Mary since we last met," she said."Well, do you think I have any thing to hope?""Certainly I do. I mentioned your name to her on purpose, and Icould see that the heart of the dear little thing began to flutterat the very sound; and when I bantered her, she blushed, and was allconfusion.""When shall I be able to meet her again?""Next week, I think. There is to be a party at Mrs. Cameron's and asI am a particular friend of the family, I will endeavour to get youan invitation.""Mary is to be there, of course?""Certainly.""Are you sure that you can get me invited?""Yes, I think so. Mrs. Cameron, it is true, has some exclusivenotions of her own; but I have no doubt of being able to removethem.""Try, by all means.""You may depend on me for that," was Mrs. Martindale's encouragingreply.The evening of Mrs. Cameron's party soon came around. Mrs.Martindale had been as good as her word, and managed to get Fenwickinvited, although he had never in his life met either Mr. or Mrs.Cameron. But he had no delicate and manly scruples on the subject.All he desired was to get invited; the way in which it was done wasof no consequence to him.Mary Lester was seated by the side of her interested friend when theyoung man entered. Her heart gave a quick bound as she saw him comein, while a pleasant thrill pervaded her bosom. He at once advancedtoward them, while Mrs. Martindale rose, and after receiving himwith her blandest manner, presented him to Mary, so as to give himan opportunity for being in her society at once. Both were, as mightvery naturally be supposed, a good deal embarrassed, for each wasconscious that now a new relation existed between them. This theirvery kind friend observed, and with much tact introduced subjects ofconversation, until she had paved the way, for a freer intercourse,and then she left them alone for a brief period, not, however,without carefully observing them, to see how they "got alongtogether," as she mentally expressed it.She had little cause for further concern on this account, forFenwick had a smooth and ready tongue in his head, and five yearsbehind the counter of a retail dealer had taught him how to use it.Instead of finding it necessary to prompt them, the wily Mrs.Martindale soon discovered that her kind offices were needed torestrain them a little, lest the evidence of their being too wellpleased with each other should be discovered by the company.Two or three interviews more were all that were needed to bringabout a declaration from the young man. Previous to his taking thisstep, however, Mrs. Martindale had fully prepared Mary's mind forit."You own to me, Mary," said she, during one of the manyconversations now held with her on the subject of Fenwick'sattentions, "that you love him?""I do, Mrs. Martindale," the young lady replied, in a tone half sad,leaning at the same time upon the shoulder of her friend. "But I amconscious that I have been wrong in permitting my affections tobecome so much interested without having consulted my mother.""It will never do for you to consult her now, Mary, for she does notknow Mr. Fenwick as you and I know him. She will judge of him, aswill your father, from appearances, and forbid you to keep hiscompany.""I am sure that such will be the case, and you cannot tell how ittroubles me. From childhood up I have been taught to confide inthem, and, except in this thing, have never once deceived them. Theidea of doing so now, is one that gives me constant pain. I feelthat I have not acted wisely in this matter.""Nonsense, Mary! Parents never think with their children in thesematters. It would make no odds whom you happened to love, they wouldmost certainly oppose you. I never yet knew a young lady whoseparents fully approved her choice of a husband.""I feel very certain that mine will not approve my choice; and Icannot bear the idea of their displeasure. Sometimes I feel halfdetermined to tell them all, let the consequences be what they may.""Oh no, no, Mary! not for the world. They would no doubt take stepsto prevent your again meeting each other.""What, then, shall I do, Mrs. Martindale?""See Mr. Fenwick whenever an opportunity offers, and leave the restto me. I will advise you when and how to act."The almost involuntary admissions made by Mary in this conversation,were at once conveyed to the ears of Fenwick, who soon sought anopportunity openly to declare his love. Of course, his suit was notrejected. Thus, under the advice and direction of a most injudiciouswoman, who had betrayed the confidence placed in her, was a younggirl, unacquainted with life, innocent and unsuspicious, wooed andwon, and her parents wholly ignorant of the circumstance.Thoughts of marriage follow quickly a declaration of love. Once withthe prize in view, Fenwick was eager to have it wholly in hispossession. Mrs. Martindale was, of course, the mutual friend andadviser, and she urged an immediate clandestine marriage. For manyweeks Mary resisted the persuasions of both. Fenwick and Mrs.Martindale; but at last, in a state of half distraction of mind, sheconsented to secretly leave her father's house, and throw herselfupon the protection of one she had not known for six months, and ofwhose true character she had no certain knowledge."Mary is out a great deal of late, it seems to me," Mr. Lesterremarked, as he sat alone with his wife one evening about teno'clock."So I was just thinking. There is, scarcely an evening now in theweek that she has not an engagement somewhere.""I cannot say that I much approve of such a course myself. There isalways danger of a girl, just at Mary's age, forming injudiciouspreferences for young men, if she be thrown much into their company,unattended by a proper adviser.""Mrs. Martindale is very fond of Mary, and I believe is with her agood deal.""Mrs. Martindale? Humph! Do you know that I have no great confidencein that woman?""Why?""Have you forgotten the hand she had in bringing about that mostunfortunate marriage of Caroline Howell?""I had almost forgotten it. Or, rather, I never paid much attentionto the rumour in regard to her interference in the matter; because,you know, people will talk.""And to some purpose, often; at least, I am persuaded that there istruth in all that is alleged in this instance. And now that mythoughts begin to run in this way, I do really feel concerned lestthe reason of Mary's frequent absence of late, in company with Mrs.Martindale, has some reference to a matter of this kind. Have younot observed some change in her of late?""She has not been very cheerful for the last two or three months.""So I have once or twice thought, but supposed it was only myimagination. If this, then, be true, it is our duty to be on ourguard--to watch over Mary with a careful eye, and to knowparticularly into what company she goes.""I certainly agree with you that we ought to do so. Heaven grantthat our watchfulness do not come too late!" Mrs. Lester said, asudden feeling of alarm springing up in her bosom."It is a late hour for her to be from home, and we not apprized ofwhere she is," the father remarked anxiously."It is, indeed. She has rarely stayed out later than nine o'clock.""Who has been in the habit of coming home with her?""Usually Mrs. Martindale has accompanied her home, and this fact hasthrown me off my guard.""It should have put you on your guard; for a woman like Mrs.Martindale, gossiping about as she does, night after night, withyoung folks, cannot, it seems to me, have the best ends in view.""She seems to be a very well-disposed woman.""That is true. And yet I have been several times persuaded that shewas one of the detestable tribe of match-makers""Surely not.""I am afraid that it is too true. And if it be so, Mary is indangerous company.""Indeed she is. From this time forth we must guard her morecarefully. Of all things in the world, I dread an improper marriagefor Mary. If she should throw away her affections upon an unworthyobject, how sad would be her condition! Her gentle spirit, woundedin the tenderest part, would fail, and droop, and pine away inhopeless sorrow. Some women have a strength of character thatenables them to rise superior, in a degree, to even such anaffliction; but Mary could not bear it.""I feel deeply the truth of what you say," replied Mr. Lester. "Heraffections are ardent, and easily called out. We have been to blamein not thinking more seriously of this matter before.""I wish she would come home! It is growing far too late for her tobe absent," the mother said, in a voice of anxious concern.Then succeeded a long and troubled silence, which continued untilthe clock struck eleven."Bless me! where can she be?" ejaculated Mr. Lester, rising andbeginning to pace the floor with hurried steps.This he continued to do for nearly a quarter of an hour, when hepaused, and said--"Do you know where Mrs. Martindale lives?""At No.--Pearl street.""No doubt she can tell where Mary is.""I think it more than probable.""Then I will see her at once.""Had you not better wait a little longer? I should be sorry toattract attention, or cause remark about the matter, which would bethe result, if it got out that you went in search of her aftereleven o'clock at night."This had the effect to cause Mr. Lester to wait little longer. Butwhen the clock struck twelve, he could restrain himself no further.Taking up his hat, he hurried off in the direction of Mrs.Martindale's."Is Mrs. Martindale at home?" he asked of the servant, who, after hehad rung three or four times, found her way to the door."No, sir," was the reply."Where is she?""I do not know, sir.""Will she be here to-night?""No, sir.""Is she in the habit of staying away at night?""No, sir.""Where did she go early in the evening?""I do not know, sir."Disappointed, and doubly alarmed, Mr. Lester turned away, andretraced his steps homeward."Did you see her?" eagerly inquired his wife, as he entered."She is not at home.""Where is she?""The stupid servant could not or would not tell.""Indeed, indeed, I do not like the appearance of all this," saidMrs. Lester, with a troubled countenance."Nor do I. I am sadly afraid all is not right in regard to Mary.""But she certainly could not be induced to go away with any one--ina word, to marry clandestinely.""I should hope not. But one so innocent and unsuspecting asMary--one with so much natural goodness of character--is most easilyled away by the specious and designing, who can easily obscure theirminds, and take from them their own freedom of action. For thisreason, we should have guarded her much more carefully than we havedone."For two hours longer did the anxious parents wait and watch forMary's return, but in vain. They then retired to take a brief buttroubled repose.Early on the next morning, in going into Mary's room, her motherfound a letter for her, partly concealed among the leaves of afavourite volume that lay upon her table. It contained theinformation that she was about to marry Mr. Fenwick, and gave Mrs.Martindale as authority for the excellence of his character: Theletter was written on the previous day, and the marriage was to takeplace that night.With a stifled cry of anguish, Mrs. Lester sprang down the stairs,on comprehending the tenor of the letter, and, placing it in thehands of her husband, burst into tears. He read it through withoutvisible emotion; but the intelligence fell like a dead, oppressiveweight upon his heart--almost checking respiration. Slowly he seatedhimself upon a chair, while his head sank upon his bosom, and thushe remained almost motionless for nearly half an hour, while hiswife wept and sobbed by his side."Mary," he at last said, in a mournful tone--"she is our child yet.""Wretched--wretched girl!" responded Mrs. Lester; "how could she sofatally deceive herself and us?""Fatally, indeed, has she done so! But upon her own head will thedeepest sorrow rest. I only wish that we were altogether guiltlessof this sacrifice.""But may it not turn out that this Mr. Fenwick will not prove sounworthy of her as we fear?--that he will do all in his power tomake her happy?""Altogether a vain hope, Mary. He is evidently not a man ofprinciple, for no man of principle would have thus clandestinelystolen away our child--which he could only have done by firstperverting or blinding her natural perceptions of right. Can such anone make any pure-minded, unselfish woman happy? No!--the hope isaltogether vain. He must have been conscious of his unworthiness, orhe would have come forward like a man and asked for her."Mr. and Mrs. Lester loved their daughter too well to cast her off.They at once brought her, with her husband, back to her home again,and endeavoured to make that home as pleasant to her as ever. But,alas! few months had passed away, before the scales fell from hereyes--before she perceived that the man upon whom she had lavishedthe wealth of her young heart's affections, could not make herhappy. A weak and vain young man, Fenwick could not stand the honourof being Mr. Lester's son-in-law, without having his brain turned.He became at once an individual of great consequence--assumed airs,and played the fool so thoroughly, as not only to disgust herfriends and family, but even Mary herself. His business was far toolimited for a man of his importance. He desired to relinquish theretail line, and get into the jobbing trade. He stated his plans toMr. Lester, and boldly asked for a capital of twenty thousanddollars to begin with. This was of course refused. That gentlemanthought it wisdom to support him in idleness, if it came to that,rather than risk the loss of a single dollar in a business in whichthere was a moral certainty of failure.Disgusted with his father-in-law's narrow-mindedness, as he calledit, Fenwick attempted to make the desired change on the strength ofhis own credit. This scheme likewise proved a failure. And that wasnot all, as in the course of a twelve-month his creditors wound himup, and he came out a bankrupt.Mr. Lester then offered him a situation as clerk in his own store;but Fenwick was a young man of too much consequence to be clerk toany man. If he could not be in business himself, he, would do nobusiness at all, he said. That he was determined on. He could dobusiness as well as any one, and had as much right to be in businessas any one.The consequence was, that idle habits took him into idle company,and idle company led him on to dissipation. Three years after hismarriage with Mary Lester, he was a drunkard and a gambler, and shea drooping, almost heart-broken young wife and mother.One night, nearly four years from the date of her unhappy marriage,Mary sat alone in her chamber, by the side of the bed upon whichslept sweetly and peacefully a little girl nearly three years ofage, the miniature image of herself. Her face was very thin andpale, and there was a wildness in her restless eyes, that betokeneda troubled spirit. The time had worn on until nearly one o'clock,and still she made no movement to retire; but seemed waiting forsome one, and yet not in anxious expectation. At last the door belowwas opened, and footsteps came shuffling along the hall, and noisilyup the stairs. In a moment or two, her room-door was swung widelyopen, and her husband staggered in, so drunk that he could scarcelykeep his feet."And pray what are you doing up at this time of night, ha?" said he,in drunken anger."You did not like it, you know, because I was in bed last night, andso I have sat up for you this time," his wife replied, soothingly."Well, you've no business to be up this late, let me tell you,madam. And I'm not agoing to have it. So bundle off to bed with you,in less than no time!""O Henry! how can you talk so to me?" poor Mary said, bursting intotears."You needn't go to blubbering in that way, I can tell you, madam; sojust shut up! I won't have it! And see here: I must have threehundred dollars out of that stingy old father of yours to-morrow,and you must get it for me. If you don't, why, just look out forsqualls."As he said this, he threw himself heavily upon the bed, and camewith his whole weight upon the body of his child. Mrs. Fenwickscreamed out, sprang to the bedside, and endeavoured to drag him offthe little girl. Not understanding what she meant, he rose upquickly, and threw her from him with such force, as to dash heragainst the wall opposite, when she fell senseless upon the floor.Just at this moment, her father, who had overheard his first angrywords, burst into the room, and with the energy of suddenly arousedindignation, seized Fenwick by the collar, dragged him down-stairs,and thence threw him into the street from his hall-door, which heclosed and locked after him--vowing, as he did so, that the wretchshould never again cross his threshold.All night long did poor Mrs. Fenwick lie, her senses locked ininsensibility; and all through the next day she remained in the samestate, in spite of every effort to restore her. Her husband severaltimes attempted to gain admittance, but was resolutely refused."He never crosses my door-stone again!" the old man said; and tothat resolution he determined to adhere.Another night and another day passed, and still another night, andyet the heart-stricken young wife showed no signs of returningconsciousness. It was toward evening on the fourth day, that thefamily, with Mrs. Martindale, who had called in, were gathered roundher bed, in a state of painful and gloomy anxiety, waiting for, yetalmost despairing again to see her restored to consciousness. All atonce she opened her eyes, and looked up calmly into the faces ofthose who surrounded her bed."Where is little Mary?" she at length asked.The child was instantly brought to her."Does Mary love mother?" she asked of the child, in a tone ofpeculiar tenderness.The child drew its little arms about her neck, and kissed her palelips and cheeks fondly."Yes, Mary loves mother. But mother is going away to leave Mary.Will she be a good girl?"The little thing murmured assent, as it clung closer to its mother'sbosom.Mrs. Fenwick then looked up into the faces of her father and motherwith a sad but tender smile, and said--"You will be good to little Mary when I am gone?"Don't talk so, Mary!--don't, my child! You are not going to leaveus," her mother sobbed, while the tears fell from her eyes likerain."Oh no, dear! you will not leave us," said her father, in atrembling voice."Yes, dear mother! dear father! I must go. But you will not let anyone take little Mary from you?""Oh no--ever! She is ours, and no one shall ever take her away."Mrs. Fenwick then closed her eyes, while a placid expression settledupon her sweet but careworn face. Again she looked up, but with amore serious countenance. As she did so, her eyes rested upon Mrs.Martindale."I am about to die, Mrs. Martindale," she said, hit a calm butfeeble voice--"and with my dying breath I charge upon you the ruinof my hopes and happiness. If my little girl should live to woman'sestate," she added, turning to her parents, "guard her from theinfluence of this woman, as you would from the fangs of a serpent."Then closing her eyes again, she sank away into a sleep that provedthe sleep of death. Alas! how many like her have gone down to anearly grave, or still pine on in hopeless sorrow, the victims ofthat miserable interference in society, which is constantly bringingyoung people together, and endeavouring to induce them to love andmarry each other, without there being between them any truecongeniality or fitness for such a relation! Of all assumed socialoffices, that of the match-maker is one of the most pernicious, andher character one of the most detestable. She should be shunned withthe same shrinking aversion with which we shun a serpent whichcrosses our path.
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