“But I don’t regret the past few months. New York is very interesting, and I’d dearly love to talk it over with you. It is a sort of a stock-pot; everything goes in—good meat, and bones, and scraps of all sorts—and you never know just what the flavor will be like, but it’s sure to be rich and stimulating and unexpected. I’ve been to very exclusive houses here sometimes, and I enjoyed that immensely; I think I could learn easily to live up to any income, no matter how big it was. I’ve been mostly in the society absurdly called the Four Hundred; it used to be called the Upper Ten Thousand; there are pleasant men and women there, and dull ones too, just as there are everywhere else, I suppose. And I’ve even gone a little into artistic and literary circles—but I don’t really like untidy people.
“You see, I am here at the newest and swellest hotel. It’s true I have only a tiny little parlor and a teeny little bedroom, 'way up near the top of the house, with a room in the attic somewhere for my maid Jemima—you remember Jemima? Well, she’s watching over me still, and she’s the only real friend I have in all New York! She’d give me all her savings gladly if I was mean enough to take them; but I couldn’t live on that pittance, could I?
“I brought very good letters, and I had very good advice from an old maid who knew George’s father when he was a boy—Miss Marlenspuyk; dear old soul she is. Then, as it happened, somebody remembered that poor George had been interested in that strike in Grass Valley, and had received one-third of the stock when the Belinda and the Lone Star were consolidated. I’ve got that stock still, and I could paper a house with it—if I had one. At any rate, somebody started the story that I was immensely rich, and of course I didn’t contradict it, I hope I’ve too much tact to refuse any help that chance throws in my way. I don’t know whether it was the reported wealth, or the excellent letters I brought, or Miss Marlenspuyk’s good advice, or even my own personal attractiveness—but, whatever the cause, I just walked into Society here almost without an effort; so easily, indeed, that the social strugglers who have seen doors open wide for me where they have been knocking in vain for years—well, they are mad enough to die! It’s enough to make us despise ourselves even more than we do when we see the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth there is among the outsiders who are peeking over the barbed-wire fence of Society! I’m afraid I’ve been horrid enough to get a good deal of satisfaction out of the envy of those outside the pale.
“And I’ve enjoyed the thing for its own sake, too. I like to give a little dinner here to a woman from whom I expect favors and to a couple of agreeable men. I like to go to other people’s dinners, and to a ball now and then. Why is it I haven’t really the half-million or more that they think I have? I’m sure I could spend it better than most of those I know who have it. As it is, I’ve about enough money left in the bank at the corner to carry me another month—and then? And then I wonder sometimes whether I hadn’t better take the last half-dollar for a poison of some sort—painless, of course. Jemima would see me decently buried. But of course I sha’n’t do anything of the sort; I’m too big a coward!
“And the winter has almost gone, and nothing has turned up. Oh yes, I forgot—poor George’s brother, who doesn’t like me, and never did; he knows how poor I am, and he wouldn’t give me a dollar out of his own pocket. But he wrote me last week, asking if I would like a place as matron in a girl’s boarding-school in Milwaukee. Of course I haven’t answered him! I don’t exactly see myself as a matron. What a hideous word it is!
”Mais il faut faire un fin, and my end is matrimony, I suppose. There’s a man here called Stone; he’s a lieutenant-commander in the navy, and I think he’s going to ask me to marry him—and I’m going to accept the proposal promptly!
“He’s not the mature Prince Charming of my dreams, but he is really not ill-looking. He’s a manly fellow, and I confess I thought he was rather nice, until I discovered that he was after me for my money—which was a shock to my vanity, too. Little Mat Hitchcock—you must remember that withered little old beau? Well, he is still extant, and as detestable as ever; he told me that John Stone had proposed to half the wealthy girls in New York. Of course, I don’t believe that, but I thought it was very suspicious when he took me in to dinner a month ago and tried to question me about my stock in the Belinda and Lone Star. I told him I had the stock—and I have, indeed!—and I let him believe that it was worth anything you please. It wasn’t what I said, of course, for I was careful not to commit myself; but I guess he got the right impression. And since then he has been very attentive; so it must be the money he is after and not me. I rather liked him, till I began to suspect; and even now I find it hard to have the thorough contempt I ought to have for a fortune-hunter.
“Why is it that we think a man despicable who marries for money, and yet it is what we expect a woman to do? I’ve asked Miss Marlenspuyk about Mr. Stone, and she knows all about him, as she does about everybody else. She says he has three or four or five thousand dollars a year besides his pay—and yet he wants to marry me for my money! It will just serve him right if I marry him for his. He’s at the Brooklyn Navy-Yard for a few months more, and then his shore duty will be up; so that if we are married, he’ll be ordered to sea soon, and I shall be free from him for three years. When I write like that I don’t know whether I have a greater contempt for him or for myself. Mais il faut vivre, n’est-ce pas? And what am I to live on next month? I can’t be a matron in Milwaukee, can I? The world owes me a living, after all, and I’ve simply got to collect the debt from a man. And how I hate myself for doing it!
“He sent me flowers this morning—a big bunch of violets—and of course he will come in this afternoon to get thanked. If I am engaged before dinner I’ll put in a postscript to tell you—so that you can get your wedding-present ready!”
As she wrote this last sentence she gave a hard little laugh.