CHAPTER IX.
THE FATAL MARRIAGE.
“Isabella.—’Tis a babbling world
“Mr. Graves.—Oh! ’tis an atrocious world!
It will be burnt up one day—that’s a comfort.”—London Assurance.
Eighteen months have passed since Mark Sutherland left his home. Eighteen months of persevering study, of unsuccessful effort, and of varied wanderings, find him, at the close, in Cincinnati, quite penniless, and nearly hopeless. His efforts to find employment here are unavailing. He has not even the means to pay his board—a situation in which many a worthy and promising young man has found himself, who has afterwards nevertheless risen to fame or fortune. Embarrassing and discouraging enough is the position while occupied, however piquant to look back upon.
In a listless and disappointed mood, Mark Sutherland entered the reading-room of the hotel, and, taking up the daily papers, began to look over their columns, to see if any new want of a clerk or an agent had been advertised, which might hold out the hope of employment to him. At last, in the Intelligencer, his eye lighted upon an advertisement for a classical and mathematical teacher. The candidate was required to produce the highest testimonials of character and competency, and requested to apply through the office of that paper. Mr. Sutherland’s classical and mathematical attainments were far above mediocrity, and the references he could give were unexceptionable. He felt therefore certain of being able to offer more than an equivalent for the salary. He saw, too, that the office of a teacher, by leaving him many hours of the day, and the whole of Saturdays and holidays free, would afford him ample leisure for the pursuit of his legal studies.
He called for writing materials, and immediately wrote and mailed a letter of application. He was scarcely anxious about the result—only a little interested to know whether he should get the situation, and what sort of a one it would be, when it was got; whether it would be the place of assistant in a public academy, or that of tutor in a private family; also, whether his temporary home should be in the cold North or the sunny South, the populous East or the sparsely-settled West, or in the indefinite country between them; lastly, with what sort of people he should find himself.
But, upon the whole, he scarcely hoped to get a response to his application, as the paper containing the advertisement was several days old when he first saw it. Therefore, when days passed into weeks, and weeks became a month, he gave up all hopes of obtaining an answer, without much disappointment.
At length—as generally happens after expectation sickens and dies, and is buried—the unlooked-for letter arrived. It contained a proposition from Colonel Ashley, of Virginia, to engage Mr. Sutherland as private tutor, to prepare his two younger sons for the university, offering, in remuneration, a very liberal salary, and requesting, in the event of Mr. Sutherland’s acceptance, that he would reply promptly, and follow his own letter in person as soon as possible.
Mark sat down and wrote at once, closing the contract, and promising to be at Ashley by the first of March.