Married Life; Its Shadows and Sunshine

confidence, until there is unquestionable proof of virtuous principle.”

“There is at least one young man, who visits here, that I think is above such mean suspicions,” Margaretta said.

“So I think,” the aunt replied.

“Whom do you mean, aunt?”

“I mean Thomas Fielding.”

“Thomas Fielding! Well, he may be; but—”

“But what, Margaretta?”

“Oh, nothing, aunt. But I do not like Mr. Fielding so very much.”

“Why not, child?”

“I can hardly tell. But there is no character about him.”

“No character! Really, Margaretta, you surprise me. There is more character and principle about him than about any young man who comes to this house.”

“I cannot think so, aunt. He is too tame, prosy, and old-fashioned for me.”

“Whom then did you mean?” the aunt asked, with an expression of concern in her tones.

“Why, Mr. Perkins, to be sure.”

The aunt shook her head.

“I am afraid, Margaretta, that Mr. Perkins is a man of few principles, but thoroughly selfish ones.”

“How strangely you talk, aunt! Why, he is any thing but a selfish man. I am sure he is the most gentlemanly, thoughtful, and polite man that visits here. He is much more attentive to others, in company, than Mr. Fielding; and that, I am sure, indicates a kinder regard for others.”

“Not always, Margaretta. It may sometimes indicate a cold-hearted, calm assurance, assumed for selfish ends; while its opposite may be from a natural reserve or timidity of character.”

“But you don’t mean to say, surely, that Mr. Perkins is such a one as you intimate?”

“If I am correct in my observation, he is all that I have insinuated. In a word, he is, in my opinion, a mere money-hunter.”

“I am sure, aunt, he is not so constant in his attentions as he was some time, ago; and, if he were merely a money-hunter, he would not, of course, abate those attentions.”

“No—not unless he had discovered a richer prize.”

“Indeed, aunt, you wrong him.”

“I should be sorry to do so, Margaretta. But I do not form my opinions hastily. I try to look close before I come to conclusions. But I have stronger testimony than my own observations.”

“What is that?”

“Why, I heard this morning that he is to be married in a few weeks to Harriet Pomeroy.”

“Indeed, you must be mistaken, aunt,” said Margaretta, suddenly rising to her feet.

“I presume not,” was the quiet reply. “My information came almost direct.”

The entrance of visitors now interrupted the conversation.

“Permit me to introduce my very particular friend, Mr. Smith,” said the individual about whom the aunt and her niece were conversing, as he entered the handsome parlour of Mrs. Riston.

Mr. Smith and Mr. Perkins were, of course, received with great affability by Margaretta, who concealed the impression made upon her mind by the piece of information just conveyed by her aunt.

As for Mrs. Riston, she was studiedly polite, but gave the young men no very apparent encouragement. An hour soon passed away, and then the visitors retired.

“Well, Smith, what do you think of her?” asked Perkins, as the two gained the street.

“You’re sure she’s worth fifty thousand dollars?”

“Oh, yes. There’s no mistake about that.”

“But how do you know? This is a matter about which there should be no mistake.”

“I got a friend to examine the transfer books of the bank where the stock is. Will that satisfy you?”

“You did? And pray why did you do that?”

“A strange question! but I’ll tell you, as you seem dull. I had a notion of her myself.”

“You had?”

“I had.”

“And why did you get out of the notion?”

“Because I saw another whom I liked better.”

“She was richer, I suppose.”