Evenings at Donaldson Manor | Page 6

somewhat greater length for insertion here, giving it the title of
THE MAIN CHANCE.
Herbert Latimer was only twenty when, having passed the usual examination, he was admitted, by a special act of the legislative assembly of his native State, to practise at the bar. Young as he was, he had already experienced some of the severest vicissitudes of life. His father had been a bold, and for many years a successful merchant, and the young Herbert, his only child, had been born and nurtured in the lap of wealth and luxury. He was only sixteen--a boy--but a boy full of the noble aspirations and lofty hopes that make manhood honorable, when his father died. Mr. Latimer's last illness had been probably rendered fatal by the intense anxiety of mind he endured while awaiting intelligence of the result of a mercantile operation, on which, contrary to the cautious habits of his earlier years, he had risked well nigh all he possessed. He did not live to learn that it had completely failed, and that his wife and child were left with what would have seemed to him the merest pittance for their support.
The character and talents of young Latimer were well known to his father's friends, and more than one among them offered him a clerkship on what could not but be considered as very advantageous terms. To these offers Herbert listened with painful indecision. For himself, he would have suffered cheerfully any privation, rather than relinquish the career which his inclinations had prompted, and with which were connected all his glowing visions of the future--but his mother--had he a right to refuse what would enable her to preserve all her accustomed elegances and indulgences?
"You must be aware, Master Latimer," said he who had made him the most liberal offers, and who saw him hesitating on their acceptance, "you must be aware that only my friendship for your father could induce me to offer such terms to so young a man, howsoever capable. Three hundred dollars this year, five hundred the next, if you give satisfaction in the performance of your duties, a thousand dollars after that till you are of age, and then a share in the business equal to one-fourth of its profits--these are terms, sir, which I would offer to no one else. Your father was a friend to me, sir, and I would be a friend to his son."
"I feel your kindness and liberality, sir."
"And yet you hesitate?"
"Will you permit me, sir, to ask till to-morrow for consideration? I must consult my mother."
"That is right, young man; that is right. She knows something of life, and will, I doubt not, advise you to close with so unexceptionable an offer."
"Whatever she may advise, sir, be assured I will do."
"I have no doubt then, sir, that I shall see you to-morrow prepared to take your place in my store. Good morning."
Assuming as cheerful an air as he could, Herbert went from this interview to his mother's sitting room. Mrs. Latimer raised her eyes to his as he entered, and reading with a mother's quick perception the disturbance of his mind, she asked him in a tone of alarm, "What is the matter, Herbert?"
"Only a very pleasant matter, mother," said Herbert, with forced cheerfulness, which he endeavored to preserve while relating the offer just received.
"And would you relinquish the study of the law, Herbert?" inquired Mrs. Latimer.
"Not if I could help it, mother; but you know Mr. Woodleigh told you that five hundred dollars a year was the utmost that he could hope to save for you. If I study law, it must be several years before I can add any thing to this sum--I may even be compelled----" The features of Herbert worked, tears rushed to his eyes, and he turned away, unable to speak the thought that distressed him.
"You speak of what can be saved for me, Herbert--of what you may be compelled to do. Do you suppose that we can have separate interests in this question?--are not your hopes my hopes--will not your success, your triumph, be mine too? The only consideration for us, it seems to me, is whether the profession you have chosen and the prospects open to you in it, are worth some present sacrifice."
"They are worth every sacrifice on my part--but you, mother----"
"Have no separate interest from my child--I have shared all your hopes, all your aspirations, Herbert, and it would cost me less to live on bread and water, to dress coarsely, and lodge hardly for the next five years, than to yield my anticipations of your future success."
Others had felt for Herbert, and had offered to aid him, and he had turned from them with a deeper sense of his need and diminished confidence in his own powers--his mother felt with him,