“She is the daughter of a small merchant, who is in rather shaky circumstances, they say. He lives on Tremont Street, and has three marriageable daughters.
“If they are all as passable as the one I have just seen, their chances are good.”
“I don’t know about that,” added Tom, laughing. “Miss Lilian dresses magnificently, you perceive; and whoever marries one of those girls will find money a cash article. You shall see them all to-morrow.”
“I should say that a wife like this Miss Oliphant was cheap at any price.”
“I think so myself, if a fellow can afford such an expensive luxury. But, Paley, we must not waste our time,” added Tom, glancing at the Old South clock. “I must find a man who can do a good thing for me at the bank.”
“So must I.”
We parted, and as I walked down the street, I could not help recalling the vision of loveliness I had beheld in the person of Miss Lilian Oliphant. I was on my way to one of the insurance offices frequented by my uncle, Captain Halliard, a retired shipmaster, who dabbled in stocks, and was a director in the Japan Marine Insurance Company. He had influence, and I relied principally upon him to engineer my application at the bank. He was a man of the world in the broadest sense of the term. He believed in making money, and in getting ahead in business, and though he paid a reasonable respect to conventional forms, I am not quite certain that he believed in anything higher. In character and purposes, he was the very antipode of my mother, whose brother he was.
I found him reading a newspaper in the office. He dropped it when he saw me, and I thought he looked very anxious. He had undertaken to procure me the situation I was ambitious to obtain, and though I don’t think he cared much for me individually, he was persistent in carrying out any scheme upon which he had fixed his mind.
“Paley, your chance is small,” said he, candidly, after we had passed the time of day.