"We shape ourselves the joy or fear
Of which the coming life is made,
And fill our Future's atmosphere
With sunshine or with shade."
"What will you bet?"
"The honor of my wife."
"You have no wife. Don't think you are going to come that game over me. I'm as much of a yankee as you are, born and reared in a yankee town."
"I'll come back to you within three months with the handsomest wife yankee land can produce, and whose life is as pure as a cotton ball before it is cursed by slave labor, for hang it Jim, since I went north I believe slave labor is accursed. Say, will you bet?"
"Bet? yes, I'll bet you that thousand dollars I've just won, and have it drawn up in writing. But a man of your character will never get a yankee girl of that stamp. They are too shrewd. You don't know 'em as I do. You judge 'em by the character of our southern women which may be pure enough for anything I know, but by thunder they'd all have to live old maids if they should be as particular as they are up north. I'd as soon live in a straight jacket as be cooped up with one of them all my days, and a man wants his liberty sometimes; you know that. That's the charm of southern life to which you are not altogether insensible, if your northern life does make you a little sensitive on that point."
"I'll bet you a thousand dollars drawn up in writing that I can do as I said, bring you the handsomest, and the most innocent woman you ever saw, as my wife too, and we'll have the writings drawn up this afternoon and I'll set off to-morrow."
"Bring the certificate with you that we may know the banns have been proclaimed, for that is so unlike you to go up north to marry a puritan when there are so many southern beauties languishing for you, that I shall not take your word for it."
"Will you stake your thousand dollars? for I am in earnest."
"I see you are terribly in earnest, and I begin to repent for the girl's sake. I say Bill, it's too bad for you to palm yourself off on an innocent girl. I don't care for these loose characters that would just as lief share their nest with a quadroon as any way, but it's rather more'n I should want to answer for to set a snare for an innocent victim."
"Take care how you impeach my character or I'll have you up for defamation. I'll stand by my word, and if you don't, I'll send you a challenge!"
"That was a losing game for you, and for my part I wish we hadn't played it. Suppose now I share it with you, I'll give you five hundred back again if that will settle the matter."
"No money will settle it. You must either take my word or accept my challenge."
"Well then the guilt be on your head for I will wash my hands of it. Squire Tomkins will come in from over the way and satisfy you as to the claims for I don't want any thing said about it. I will draw up a paper and he shall witness our signatures, so that it shall be binding to your satisfaction."
One of the characters in the preceding pages will be readily recognized as Mr. Carleton who had lost heavily in a gambling operation with a fellow rogue in broadcloth. Both of them had too much of the northern element of refinement in their natures to mingle promiscuously with southern society, and the Yankee born was not yet so lost to the early teachings of his childhood as to yield unscrupulously to the worst principles of southern depravity. The other, judged by his early education, was not any lower in the scale of morality. There is scarcely a man so depraved that he has not a redeeming trait somewhere, through which he feels instinctively a certain degree of reverence for a noble and virtuous woman. While one scrupled at the thought of violating what was left of his dim perceptions of honor, the other justified himself by indulging that spark of manly feeling which really glowed in his bosom at the thought that he might win the love of so pure a being, which ought to refute the charge his friend brought against his character, and which had really incensed him to persevere.
The result was his sudden exit, and his sudden appearance on the evening alluded to. After leaving home, when his anger had time to cool, and reason to return, so many doubts arose in his mind about being able to accomplish his purpose within the time specified, if at all, that he lost no spare moments in devising schemes for his success. Very discreet in his blandishments and reasonable in his propositions, the innocent heart was beguiled and the first day of June was appointed to celebrate their nuptials. He would gladly have hastened it sooner, but yielding to her feelings of regret at the thoughts of leaving her northern home, he deferred it as long as possible, and really acted honestly in doing so. There was an irresistible charm about him when he gave full play to his higher nature that would justify the confidence of as pure-minded a woman as Grace Blanche. She tried hard to forget that any cause ever existed to doubt his sincerity, but since the night she received Mr. Livingston back to her friendship, she felt the strength of his former influence. They met seldom now, and he never mentioned the subject, feeling that it was too late. He could only hope that a reformation had taken place, and she might be happy in her new relation. It was a source of regret that she was to leave the city, but southern corruption had not been so fully revealed then as now, and no one thought of raising that question as an objection to her departure, either in relation to her happiness or his deportment. Her numerous friends sent their congratulations, past rumors were forgotten, and all seemed to go merrily as a marriage bell, save that leaden weight at her heart.
The bloom faded from her cheek, but elicited no comment. The wedding day came, the ceremony was performed, and the bridal couple were cheered with all the good wishes it was possible for loving friends to shower upon them. Ernest Livingston happened accidentally to be the last person of whom she took leave, whose hand she pressed long and tenderly, mentally asking his forgiveness for the coldness she had once shown him. The grasp was returned, he saying in a low tone, as Mr. Carleton stepped one side, "Remember that I shall always be your friend."
This remark was wholly unpremeditated, and was no sooner made than regretted for its seeming impropriety. Although it might be understood as a guaranty on his part against any future broken friendship, it sprung from no such source, and was quickly construed by Mrs. Carleton as an ill-portending omen. Of a tumultuous character were her bridal anticipations, neither unmixed with regrets nor without the charm of an all-confiding love.