Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No 3, September 1863

Emma did not faint, or scream, or burst into tears; but she turned very pale indeed, and sat without speaking, as if expecting her mother to say something more.

Mrs. Tenant looked at her anxiously. She would have much preferred a demonstration of some sort to silence – silence and pallor. She continued:

'Emma, you are our only child, our all. We think of your happiness more than of anything else in this world. Your mother is with you now; she will help you and sustain you until you have recovered, as you soon will, from the effect of this sudden shock.'

'And he said it was because papa had failed?' inquired Emma, without appearing to notice what her mother was saying.

'Exactly.'

'Then it was because he thought I was rich that he wanted to marry me?'

'For nothing else in the world,' replied Mrs. Tenant, impatiently.

Emma was again silent, but she was no longer pale; on the contrary, the color was fast filling her cheeks, and she blushed as she said, in a low tone, 'I shall feel so mortified to go into church.'

Mrs. Tenant was delighted. A great point was gained. Emma was already brought back to ordinary considerations; her pride would rally now.

'Never mind, my darling, never mind; for once it may be a little awkward, but, after all, what do we care?'

Very commonplace, to be sure, but it was all she could say.

'Everybody knows that the wedding day was fixed. Then, you know, I had to explain why it was put off to Ellen Stanley and Julia Petit, for they were to be my bridesmaids. This morning I met Ellen, and she asked me when it was to be, and I told her Hi – Mr. Meeker had not yet returned. She declared she saw him on the corner of Bond street and Broadway day before yesterday morning. She said she could not be mistaken. I told her she was mistaken. Now I dare say she did see him. What shall I do? Everybody will have the story, and how they will laugh at me!'

'We will see about that, we will see,' said Mrs. Tenant.

The fact is, she did not know exactly what to reply.

'I shall be ashamed to show myself in the street.'

'Nonsense, my darling.'

Kissing her daughter cheerfully, Mrs. Tenant went down stairs to meet her husband, whom she heard at the door.

The moment her mother left, Emma's heart sank, and she began to cry.

Mrs. Tenant was not long in putting her husband in possession of the situation of things. He was astonished, of course. He asked a great many questions, and at last seemed to comprehend how matters stood. He appeared to be very deeply affected, though he said but little. He did not speak on the subject to Emma, but soon after dinner took his hat and walked out.

In a short time he was standing on the steps of Dr. Chellis's house, and had rung the bell. He was presently seated in the Doctor's 'study' (he declined to go into the drawing room), waiting for him to come in.

Now it so happened that Dr. Chellis and Mr. Tenant were schoolmates at Exeter Academy, and afterward classmates at Yale. More than this, for two years they roomed together. Young Tenant did not have much taste for study, but his father, a man of competence, desired his son to be 'educated,' even if it should afterward be decided to make a merchant of him. It was perhaps because the young men were so unlike that they took to each other from the first and became intimate. There was something in Tenant's honest, genuine, and amiable nature, which was exceedingly attractive to the hardy, earnest, uncompromising Chellis. Their intimacy was a matter of surprise and marvel to all, yet I think is easily accounted for on the hypothesis just mentioned. That Tenant maintained a respectable standing in his class he owed to Chellis, for it was their habit to go over their lessons together after Chellis had 'dug out' his, and thus fortified, Tenant's recitations were very fair.

The young men never lost sight of each other. With them it continued always to be 'Aleck' and 'Harry.' Whenever the young clergyman came to New York he was received at the house of the young merchant with open arms. After some years, opportunity was presented for 'Harry,' to wit, Mr. Henry Tenant, of the leading house of Allwise, Tenant & Co., to use his influence in his church, where the pulpit had become vacant, to have 'Aleck,' to wit, the Rev. Alexander Chellis, called to fill it. The latter received the invitation with pleasure, for it opened a field to him he longed to enter. There was one drawback. He had not sufficient means to properly furnish a city house, where matters are on a scale so much more expensive than in the country. But he came down to consult his friend. After a full discussion they retired, the clergyman still not persuaded he could accept, and really most unwilling to decline. The next morning the merchant was up very early, and bolting into his friend's room, he woke him from a sound slumber, exclaiming, 'Aleck, I have got to be absent to-day – shall not be in till evening; but I have thought your affair all over, and decided that you must come, and that forthwith. As to the little objection which troubles you, here is what will obviate it; and mind you, Aleck, if you ever allude to this circumstance, either to me or to any living being, I swear, by Jupiter Ammon, your favorite old heathen, that I will never again recognize you as friend.'

Thus delivering himself, he thrust a check for a thousand dollars into the hands of the astonished clergyman, who lay listening to his harangue, fully convinced his friend was actually out of his wits. The next instant the door was closed; and rubbing his eyes to satisfy himself he was not dreaming, he examined the piece of paper in his hand, and read it forward and backward, upside down, and right side up, until he actually began to comprehend what it meant. More than this, he fully appreciated the act, and accepted it; and further, he never did allude to the circumstance, not even so much as to thank his friend. It is true, when the latter came back that evening and the two shook hands, that Harry felt a peculiar pressure, and observed a peculiar expression in Aleck's eyes, which he fancied for the moment were moist.

So Mr. Chellis was ordained over the church in New York. Years ran away. He became a famous divine, justly celebrated through town and country. We know the position Mr. Tenant enjoyed. The two always maintained their old intimacy. When alone together, it was still 'Aleck' and 'Harry.' College jokes were repeated, college days lived over, and, while together, it would seem that neither was a day the older for the years that had rolled over them. It is not to be wondered at then that on receiving the unlooked-for intelligence of Hiram Meeker's conduct he should desire to consult his old friend and lay the case before him.

Apologizing for keeping the reader so long on the threshold of Dr. Chellis's study, we will now enter with him, and report the conference.

'Aleck, I am in trouble.' That was the first remark after the greeting.

Never before had Mr. Tenant made such an observation to his friend. The old merchant had borne his failure like a man, accepting it as a part of the 'fortune of war.' He neither whimpered nor made wry faces. So, when Dr. Chellis heard the words, 'Aleck, I am in trouble,' he knew they meant a great deal. He took his seat, not in his accustomed place, but on the sofa close to his friend, and turning on him an anxious, sympathizing look, he said, in a tone gentler than a woman's, 'What is it, Harry?'

'Harry' told him the whole. The burden of all his thoughts was his daughter, and his lip quivered when he spoke of her love for the man who had proved to be so base, and of the effect the disappointment might have on her.

When he had concluded, Dr. Chellis started to his feet and began to pace up and down the room with great energy, exclaiming, 'God be praised! God be praised! God be praised!'

'For what, Aleck, for what?' inquired Mr. Tenant, rising anxiously from his seat and attempting to place himself before his friend, and thus intercept a response; 'do tell me for what?'

This time they met in the middle of the room; the Doctor no longer avoided his companion, but responded, with emphasis, 'For the escape! I tell you, Harry, it should be the happiest day of your life! yes, the happiest day of your life! Do you hear me?'

For Mr. Tenant did not appear to comprehend what the other was saying.

'I tell you,' continued the Doctor, 'Emma's engagement has been a perpetual source of sorrow to me. Yet I had nothing definite to urge against it, nothing, in fact, but what might be called a prejudice, which it would have been unjust to speak of – and – but – the fact is, I knew,' burst forth the now fairly enraged Doctor, interrupting himself and marching off again at double quick, 'I knew the fellow was a scamp, ever since he came whimpering to me about his conviction and God's providence, wonderful conversion, and so on. Conversion! I'll convert him!'

The Doctor's right hand opened and shut as if enclosing in its grasp the collar of Hiram's coat.

Mr. Tenant meantime kept standing in the middle of the room, trying in vain to bring the Doctor again to a halt. Whether he would have succeeded will not be known, for a knock at the door served to effect the purpose, while his sharp, angry 'Come in' so terrified the servant girl that she opened it barely wide enough to enable her to announce, in a faint tone, Mr. Meeker.'

'Ask him into the parlor,' said the Doctor, in his natural voice, 'I will see him presently.'

Then he turned, and in his usual manner bade his friend sit. Both resumed their places on the sofa, and the Doctor proceeded:

'Harry, it is all settled. The whole thing is clear. It comes just in the right time. You know Maria is to sail for Europe next week. You know how fond she is of Emma. It was but yesterday she was saying how pleasant it would be if Emma could go with her. Then she supposed it impossible. Now it is all right. The young people are to be absent six or eight months. This will put Emma quite right. Now, then, we have decided this, you must let me have my session with that knave yonder.'

'But Aleck! Aleck!' exclaimed Mr. Tenant, making an effort to stop his friend, who was about to leave the room, 'you forget – you forget my altered circumstances. Much as I like the plan, the thing is impossible – really quite impossible.'

The Doctor turned on his companion impatiently.

'That's my affair,' he said. 'Mind that Emma is ready.'

'No, no, Aleck – no, no, that must not be. No, no.'

The Doctor looked as if about to make an assault on his friend, and then raising his finger in a menacing manner, 'Who was it,' he exclaimed fiercely, 'that with rude force burst into my room one morning, disturbing my slumbers, and committing various acts of violence, while I was in a defenceless state unable to resist – who was it?'

The Doctor's eyes actually glared with such a genuine expression of rage, that Mr. Tenant lost his self-possession, and, as if afraid to admit the charge, answered faintly:

'I don't know.'

'You lie, you dog – you know you do,' said the Doctor, relaxing his angry tone. 'Ah, Harry, I did not think it of you.'

This last remark was uttered in the old familiar, gentle tone, and was accompanied by a look – just such a look as he had given him on the evening of the memorable affair of the thousand-dollar check.

Tears came into Mr. Tenant's eyes.

'Come, come,' said the Doctor, 'don't be foolish; away with you, and let me attend to my business.'

They shook hands silently, and the Doctor, closing the door after his friend, went back to his study, rang the bell, and directed Hiram to be summoned.