The estimation in which the characters of these two young men was held, at least by two individuals, the preceding conversation has apprised the reader. Each made his impression upon a certain order of mind, and each was regarded, or lightly esteemed accordingly. Although in talents and in a right estimation of life and its true ends, the two young men were altogether dissimilar; yet were they friends, and in many respects intimate. Why they were so, we shall not stop to enquire, but proceed to introduce them more particularly to the reader.
"I suppose you are going to Mrs. Melton's this evening?" said Wilton to his friend, a few weeks after the period indicated in the opening of this story.
"I feel as if I would like to go. A social evening, now and then, I find pleasant, and I have no doubt it is useful to me."
"That is right, Walter. I am glad to see you coming out of your recluse habits. You want the polish and ease that social life will give you."
"I feel that, Wilton. But I fear I am too old now to have all the rough corners knocked off, and worn smooth."
"O, don't despair. You'll make a ladies' man after awhile, if you persevere, and become more particular in your dress. But, to change the subject, a little, tell me what you think of Cara Linton? Her father is worth a plum, and she is just the showy, brilliant woman, of which a man like me ought to be proud of."
"As you ask me, Charles, I must reply candidly. I would think her a dear bargain with all her father's money thrown in with her; and as to your other reasons for thinking of her as a wife, I consider them, to speak plainly, as I always do to you, despicable!"
"And why so, Mr. Philosopher?"
"A wife should be chosen from much higher considerations than these. What do you want with a brilliant, showy wife? You marry, or ought to marry, a companion for yourself—not a woman for the world to admire."
"You are too matter-of-fact, by half, Walter. Your common sense ideas, as you call them, will keep you grubbing in a mole hill all your life.