Rising in the world

by T. S. Arthur

"And it is upon him that Mary—sweet Mary Lee! has thrown herself away," murmured Hudson, when he was again alone. "He does not love her as I love her—he cannot! Ah, me! So the world goes." And he bent his head again down upon the table from which he had raised it when Dunbar came in.

It was some days before the young student could sufficiently compose his mind to resume, with anything like his former ardor, the study of his profession. That a change had passed over him was noticed by all his friends, but no one knew the cause. His secret was locked in his own bosom.

After he had parted from Mary Lee, the maiden retired to her chamber, and sitting down with a sigh, fell into a deep reverie. As to what she thought and felt, we cannot say; but her face was not so bright and happy as it had been for many days before.

The fact of the engagement of Dunbar with Mary Lee soon transpired, and reached the young man's family before he had thought it proper to acquaint them with what he had done. To his surprise, he found that his father was by no means pleased with this step. He had no particular objection to the young lady, so far as matters personal to herself were concerned; but to her condition he had a very decided objection.

"You have committed a most egregious mistake," he said, manifesting strong displeasure, "and have marred your future prospects more than you dream. A young man of any ambition is a fool to think of marriage before he is twenty-eight or thirty. He establishes his position first; he writes his name so high that all can read it, and then makes his selection of a wife from the hundreds whose hands are ready to grasp the one he outstretches. Six or seven years from this time, wealth and high connexions may easily be secured by marriage. Lawrence! I thought better of you. What is Mary Lee! How will a marriage with her advance your interests in the world, or help to place you higher?"

Dunbar had never thought of this. For once the warm heart had gained an advantage over the cool head. It was his first error of this kind, and it was the last. He did not argue the matter with his father, nor attempt to palliate what he had done. The mistake he had committed was too palpable at the first glance. A few words had made this clear as daylight. Mary was poor; she could not, therefore, aid him in his upward struggle by the strong elevating power of wealth. She was humble and unknown, and could not advance his interests by connecting him with an influential family, or introducing him into a higher circle than the one in which he was moving.

After the interview with his father, for whose opinions he always had great respect, Dunbar felt sober. He acknowledged that he had indeed fallen into an error, even while the maiden's image impressed itself warmly upon his heart. That she was worthy to rise with him he had been fully satisfied; but he had not yet advanced far enough in the world's selfish wisdom to understand that there was a higher truth to be learned on this subject. His father's words revealed this to his approving reason.

"But it is now too late," he said to himself, as he sat dreaming over the subject some hours afterwards, with his law books open, but unread, before him. "The engagement has been entered into, and cannot be broken. All I can do is to make the best of it. Mary is a lovely girl, and worthy to be loved. I might get a rich wife, but none so good, none so pure, none so truthful. I must only struggle the harder. They shall see that I can rise, even in spite of this drawback."

These were his first thoughts and purposes. But the reflection of what he had lost kept haunting him; and the involuntary contrast between Mary, portionless and unknown, and some beautiful heiress, highly accomplished and highly connected, kept arising and dimming the maiden's image that had been stamped upon his heart.

No very long time passed before Mary Lee perceived something in her lover that inwardly disturbed her. There was a change of some kind in him. He came as often, stayed as long, and uttered as many tender words, but still there was a change. He appeared the same, and yet her heart had an instinct that he was not the same.