We must now leave our hero for a time and return to Chicago, to look after some of the other characters whom we have introduced in our story. Major Ashton, after a late breakfast, sat in a handsome apartment, with several letters before him. These he had examined without much apparent satisfaction. Finally he threw down the last with a gesture of impatience. "They all sing the same tune," he said, irritably. "They are all poor trades-people, who want money. Here's my tailor, who ventures to hope I will call round and settle his little bill—two hundred and seventeen dollars!—as he is in great want of money. What business has the rascal to want money? I dare say he has a plentiful bank account, made by fleecing customers like myself. Then there's Jones, the boot-maker, wants me to pay up his bill of sixty-five dollars for boots and shoes. I can't remember having all the things he charges for. I dare say the rogue has charged "The worst of it is," continued the major, after a slight pause, "I don't see any way out of the difficulty. I haven't even money enough to pay my way in a cheap boarding-house. If I should descend to such degradation, farewell to all my social position. Managing mammas would no more angle for me, and even Miss Framley would turn up her plebeian pug nose at me, though it would seem as if nature had saved her the necessity. At present she is trying in desperate earnest to catch me." The major was not misled by vanity. Miss Framley knew very well that the major was regarded as a great catch, and that a match with him would give her a distinguished position in society. Moreover, she was under the mistaken impression that he was wealthy. The mistake was a natural one. The major was always arrayed with irreproachable elegance, wore expensive jewelry, was known to live handsomely, and indeed to possess all the outward marks of prosperity. She would gladly have embraced the opportunity to become Mrs. Major Ashton. At one time the major thought of giving her the Miss Framley forever spoiled her chances one day, when she incautiously expressed the determination to have her fortune settled on herself. She was not speaking to the major, but he overheard her. "Forewarned is forearmed," he said to himself. "Miss Framley is a pill which must be sugar-coated to be taken, or, as I may say, well gilded. If the girl expects to make a good match on the score of her own personal attractions, she makes an egregious mistake. No, young lady, I must have your money paid over, or secured to me on the wedding-day, or your name can never be Mrs. Ashton." Of course, while there seemed a chance of securing Grace Dearborn, the major never gave a thought to Miss Framley, but Grace's manner at the ball convinced him that to cherish further hopes in that quarter would be a mere waste of time. He could never hope to marry her, except against her will, and was compelled to leave her out of the account. For Grace, it must be owned, he cherished as warm an affection as he was capable of feeling for any one, and he would have married her even with the proviso that all her wealth should be settled on herself. He was, His affairs now had reached a point when it seemed necessary to take some step to relieve himself from the claims of creditors, who were daily becoming more clamorous. In his perplexity, one door of relief seemed to open to him. His brow cleared, he brought down his hand upon the table, and exclaimed: "Now I see my way clear. It won't be so great a sacrifice after all. If I can't be Grace's husband, I will be her uncle." |