Rensselaer Republican, Volume 13, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 March 1881 — MY MASTER AND I. [ARTICLE]

MY MASTER AND I.

BY BARBARA YECHTON.

“WANTED—A Cashier. Must write a good hand, and be intelligent. Apply between ten and twelve at Broadway.” Such was the advertisement that met my eyes as I looked anxiously over tho columns of “Female Help Wanted” in the Herald. I read it over twice, then cut it out, and put the slip in my pocket-book, determined to call at No. that morning. There , were two of us, Netta and myself; she was the child of my stepmother, upon whose deatli she had come to live with me. Neither of-us having any relatives able to help us, audXvery little money, times were very nard. So for the past week, and, indeed, ever since I came to the city, I had studied the papers daily, and done a great deal of traveling in answer to advertisements, but without any good result. However, I was not easily discouraged, and, after dispatching Netta to school, sallied forth.

No. proved to be a large retail hnd stationery house. “M. A. Chisholm” was tho sign. There were a numlier of clerks about; to one I told my errand, and was conducted to thei upper end of tho long store, where, standing and sitting, were some six or seven females, who all looked severely at me; but, nothing daunted, I sat down and awaited my turn. A little'distance from us was an inclosed office, wherein, no doubt, was the party who was to decide the momentous question; and as each one went in and came out with flushed or disappointed face, my heart sank lower ana lower, and throbbed so when my turn came that I could scarcely speak. As the office was dark the- gas was lighted; at a low, wide desk almost covered witli papers and writing materials sat a gentleman. He must have heard me come in, but he did not stop writing, nor even lift his eyes; so, a low chair being near me, I quietly sat down, examining first the countenance of M. A. Chisholm (for ho it was), and then the comfortably furnished office. The gentleman was not at ail goodlooking: he was very dark, sallow, in fact, with very black hair and heavy mustache; the nose was too large for beauty, the mouth and chin squaro and determined, the forehead prominent, with creases between the heavy brows, as if from constant frowning; shoulders broad and head well set on them. The The surroundings were a pleasant red carpet, several office chairs, two desks, (oue occupied), waste-paper baskets, files, Ac. My survey completed, tny gaze went back to Mr. Chisholm, when I was considerably disconcerted at meeting two keen browu eyes fixed coldly and calmly on me.

“Well,” he said, presently, with extreme politeness, (sarcasm, I called it) “I trust you admire my office?” “Yes, sir, I do,” I answered, feeling uncomfortably warm. “Humph!” after another cool glance. “So you would like to be my cashier? Know anything about arithmetic?” “Yes, sir,, something—not much, though,” trying in vain to steady my yoice. “Write a good hand?” “Yes, sir,” wondering if my cheeks and ears could possibly burn more. “I write a distinct but not a pretty hand.” “Made up of negatives, eh?” ho queried, sharply. . “Are you bright and intelligent ?” “I leave that fer you to judge, sir,” I exclaimed quickly, almost determined to get up and go away. “Oil, you do! Well, if you get t/lic position you will have to sit at that desk, take charge of the cash, and write such letters as I shall dictate to you, besides assuming a part of tho correspondence yourself. Now write your name there.” With trembling fingers I wrote my name; never* it seemed tome, had I done so badly; the “M” looked weak and uncertain, while the “K” was decidedly broken-backed. .My heart sank; was that a good hand? I felt sure the next words would be my dismissal. > He loooed at the miserable ribrawl, then at me, with a scarcely concealed smile. , i

“Well,” he said, after a pause, "you perhaps may suit; at any rate you may come and try. Now about the salary.” naming a sum which to my country ideas seemed very generous. “Enough, feh?” with a keen glance from under his heavy eyebrows. “Can you come to-morrow? Then that will do. Good morning. Oh! our hours are from half past eight to six.” How I got into the street I don’t remember. I was so happy to think I had at last obtained employment, and such a good salary; yet I trembled a little at the thought of my future master. He would be difficult to please and sharp almost to rudeness, sometimes; but rather that than too much politeness; that I had been warned against. I had actually gotten the situation without any “references,” for there in my pocket still remained the kind letter of recommendation from our dear old clergyman at home.

The first day was a wearysome one to mo. and the crowning misery came with the adding up of my cash; add, subtract, divide, do what I would, it would not come right; and the knowledge that Mr. Chisholm was furtively watching me did not mend matters. At last he came to the rescue, and in a few rapid strokes showed me where the mistake lay. My other duties I found to bo easy; to assume a small share of the correspondence, to write letters at my master’s dictation, or to copy them for him after they, were written, was light work. He was just, sharp and strict, and gradually became very kind tome; bat he was a map of moods, puzzling me a great deal at first, nntil I concluded not to notice the changes in his manner, but simply to try to do my duty. I could see he was not happy, though I heard he was much

1 " ' ■ " “" T-' mm-——— r courted in society, and lived alone in a big, handsome house up town. Sometimes, when we were not busy, be would talk sepleasantly to me! He had traveled a great deal, and possessed good descriptive powers, and rare humor. These occasions were treats to me. Then, perhaps the very next day, he would come down, dark and stern, hardly saying a word, or, if he did, something bitter or disagreeable. He was a queer man, this master of mine, rough, polished, considerate, sharp—each phase as strongly marked as the other. A masterful man, too much accustomed to having his own way. Still I could not help thinking of him, and talking of him a little to Netta, when we were cosy and happy in our little room. One day I tied a black ribbon several times over my hair to keep some refractory locks in place, ana in the midst of dictating a letter to me, my master said abruptly: “TYiat ribbon in your hair makes me think of a song my mother used to sing—something about ‘Janet with golden hair and silken snood,’ Do you know the words?” I colored up anil said I did. “I like tho name—Janet —Janet,” he continued musing: “I shall call you so iu future. I know it’s not your name, but I like it—and it suits you.” Then he continued dictating without i waiting for my assent. So. after that when we were alone, and he was in a genial mood, I was i ‘Janet,’ and I did not difelike the name.

Christmas eve came. It had been long and very tiresome. Chisholm had been out nearly all day. It wanted now but a quarter to 6. I had put on my cloak and hat, aiul was slowly drawing on my gloves, when a quick step sounded outside the office. The next moment lie entered, witli' the brightest happiest expression I had fever seen him wear. “Still here, Janet?” he cried, gayly. “I hardly thought to find you. Have you no purchases to make?” “Yes, sir, one,” I replied, wishing witli all my heart that I had gone ten minutes earlier. “I am going now.” I was at the door of the office when he called: 7 “Janet, come here.” “I have a purchase to make, sir,” without removing my hand from tlie handle of the door. “I shall be late for dinner.” “Bat I Svant to tell you something: I came back here on purpose to tell you,” he replied. I walked slowly back and stood within a few feet of him. “I am waiting, sir.” He laughed. “Congratulate me, Janet. lam go-

ing to be married.” “To be married?” I repeated vagueJy, with a horrible sinking at my heart, and conscious that my face was growing pr.le, with my master’s keen eyes looking straight at me. “Yes. You see I have a big house up town, handsome and comfortable, but very lonely, Janet; I’ve no one to bid me good-by in the morning, no one to welcome me home at night; no happy, wee wife, no merry, childish voices to cheer ray heart; I am lonely, and I love a good woman—so—l am going to be married. But you have uot congratulated me yet.” “I do wish you joy, sir,” I managed to say with tolerable composure. “Thank you,” he responded almost gleefully. “Ah! my love is a rare one, good, pure, and lovely. Wait till you see her. I shall show her to you some day, my little clerk, and I hope you will be friends.” This was too much. “Good evening, sir,” I exclaimed. “I must go now.” “Good night.” He walked to tlie office door with me, then held out his hand, “You have known me more than four months, and we have never yet shaken hands. How is that, Janet?” “I did not know that clerks generally shook hands with their employ--ers, sir. Good night and merry Christmas.” And folding both hands demurely in my muff, I marched by, pretending not to see his outstretched hand. I had but one purchase to make, a small gray muff for Netta, and was on my way home at as rapid a pace as the slippery, snow-covered sidewalk would allow.

The pain at my heart was almost intolerable; it had been there nearly Jill day. I began to realize what it meant; I was an idiot, an arrant fool! A man had been simply polite, and a little kind to me, and forthwith I had been silly onougli to fall in love with him. It had actually come to this; 1 was in love with my master, who had never si>oken one word oT love to me in his life, and who was going to marry another woman. I was thoroughly ashamed of myself, and vowed that I wouldTlie rather than lie should know—my foot slipped, I pitched forward, then back in a vain attempt to recover 1113 equilibrium, and settled suddenly into a heap of soft snow, while my package flew in the opposite direction.‘Twice I made an awkard ntt mpt to rise, when a pair of strong arms raised me, a familiar voice saying: “Not a comfortable time of year for sitting out doors.” Then, while I brushed the snow off my dress, my master picked up my parcel, and before I could object had tucked my hand under his arm, and was walking toward by boardinghouse. (I wondered afterward how he knew the address.)

“May I call and see you some evening when lam lonely ? I’ll be very good, and I do want to come,” with a wistfulness in his tone that made my heart bound. “Resist the devil and he will flee from you,” had been a favorite quotation of my step-mothers; the “aevil” in this case was my own heart, that was clamoring so loudly for forbidden fruit, To resist him, I answered' sharply, angrily: “No, sir, you may not come! You must find some other way of relieving your loneliness.” My master looked astonished, frowned and then laughed. “You need not look so cross about it. Janet. You don’t look pretty vnen you scowl. Merry Christmas to you!” and he was gone. Some bitter tears were shed that night, with a protest against the bitterness of life. My one Christmas gift was a bunch of delicious hot-house flowers which hod been left for me by an unknown hand, and which brightened our room and gladdened our hearts as long as they lasted. I rather dreaded meeting Hr. Chisholm the next day; how he would act? Would he be cool and caustic, or overlook me altogether? I felt the blood rush to my face as I heard his step. He carelessly returned my salutation, and immediately became interested in his letters. Evidently he was an£ater in the afternoon, Mr. Jarvis ushered two ladies into the office. One was young and very lovely. Mr. W

Chisholm greeted them with etnpressement. for his future wife, and expressed great hopes for his happiness, then again, would sneer at her frivolousness, being gloomy and sarcastic; still he was uniformly kind to me, aud I felt sorry to see him ‘so tossed about by inward hopes and fears.’ One night as I was getting ready to go home lie said abruptly: “My wedding day is drawing near; “The youngest one is Miss Raymond,” whispered tbe clerk, fidgeting among “the lady Mr. Chisholm is to marry.”“Indeed!” I answered bending over my work. “Ls it settled ?” “Oh, yes!” was the low reply. “I hear they are to bo married in March.

She was a brilliant-looking woman, but I thought, had I been in her place, I would never have shown Mr. Chisholm my prefereneCTso lavishly before strangers, or been content with such mocking homage as he rendered. His crassest manner pleased me more; his was too light and free to suit me, but Miss Raymond appeared well satisfied flashing bright glances, and tossing her queenly head in a manner that might have bewildered a stronger man than my master. Some grand ball was to take place within a week, and she wanted him to meet her there. At first he appeared unwilling, then allowed himself to be coaxed into consent. 1 saw her slip her small hand into his in her thanks, then, amid gay speeches and merry laughter, he escorted them to their carriage. “Well, Janet,” said Mr. Chisholm, a little later, with a sudden change of manner, “what do you think of Miss Raymond?” “I think she is very lovely, sir,” I answered, quietly, “and must congratulate you on your future happiness.” He arched, his heavy eyebrows comically. “Won’t she make my home happy ?” he cried. “Won’t she be a patient Griseida? She’ll never give a thought to other men’s admiration after the knot is tied —no, not she! And she’ll look will at the head of my table; these large women make a much better nppearace than small ones do.”

“Please do not speak so; I wish you wouldn’t. Indeed it is not honorable,” I broke In. He v alked over to my desk, looked at me with a queer expression. “Oh, pray continue! By all means show me my duty to my future wife, ncc Miss Helen Raymond! Janet, you certainly missed your vocation; you should nave gone in for the pulpit or the platform: those demure eyes would surely have gained you many a convert, Now t by way of a reward for your defence of the absent, let me tell you that her parting advice was to get rid of you as soon as possible—a man would be so much more useful.” Suddenly laying his hand over mine, pen and all. “What do you know about how much in earnest I could be? There —don’t be prudish—l shan’t hurt you!” Then, abruptly walking away, “Balj! you women make grand mistakes sometimes, in spite of your vaunted intuition. I could swear I love my future wife with all my whole heart—and must positively be paid by the 15th of the month.” I lifted my head In amazement at the sudden change in his voice. Mr. Jarvis stood in tlie doorway. For all Mr. Chisholm’s assertions I would not have changed places with Miss Raymond; better be his clerk aud be treated respectfully, than be his wife and be sneered at.

After this lie was away from the office a great deal, and when in it was full of pTans for the future. I was a good deal puzzled by his manner; sametimes he assured me of his love wiU you come to the church to see me married, Janet?” “No, sir,” I answered. “I think not; you know holidays are rare, and if I have one on that day no doubt I shall find plenty to do at home, and you will be married just as happily without my presence.’’ “No, I won’t!” lie cried vehemently. “Promise you’ll come; promise, Janet, or I declare I’lljjceep you here till you do.” His face was flushed; the hand that barred my way actually trembled. I was astonished, but not afraid. “If you really wish me to come, of course I will do so,” I said, smiling at his earnestness. “Thank you, I do. Good night, Janet: you are a good little girl; the bride shall send you an extra large slice of wedding cake.” And this extraordinary mail bowed me out with a smile.. The next day was Sunday. Netta and I were enjoying sweet, pure Farra*;, when our small scryant made tlie u nprecedented announcement: “I gentleman for you, miss, waiting in the hall.” Much surprised, I went down. At the foot of the stairs stood my master, hat in hand, looking sallow, gloomy and eross.

“Will you do something for me?” he began, abruptly, without even offering his hand. “Put on your things and come to the park with me. Don’t be prudish; let Miss Raymond go to the*Dickens;” (only it was a stronger word) “for to-day, and come help me get rid of the gloomy thoughts that nave been pestering me all day. Come, Janet, I want you. If you refuse, I’ll just sit down here on this step and stay Ihe rest of the afternoon, ana I think,” grimly, “entertaining me out Of doors will be the easiest.” He was fully capable of keeping his word; ha looked 11l and unhappy. I suddenly resolved I would go with him; I was not, could not be afraid of him; my love was too thorough for that, and I might win him to a better mood; but I also resolved, with a swift consciousness of my own weakness, that it should be the first and last time. After all, it would be better for me when Mr. Chisholm was married.

By the time we reached tho Park he was more amiable. Sitting on Pte platform of the tower, we two alone, he told me the story of his life. His father died suddenly while Miles was at college, preparing to graduate; he had been recalled to a darkened home, to find, when affairs were settled up, that the business was in a very bad condition. College was given up, and he devoted ail his energies to paying off his father’s debts, and keeping his delicate mother ana sister in as luxurious style as before the failure. It had taken the beat part of his life, and just as fortune really came within his grasp, death claimed his dear ones, and he was left alone. His experience of life and feteople had not inspired a very great trust in his fellow beings. I pitied mm with all my heart; tears were in my eyes when he held out both hands with wistful eyes and, said earnestly: “Once more life begins to look bright. lam being educated in goodness and purity: you are doing it, my little Janet, with your sturdy honesty and simple, pure womanliness. Oh, child, you can never know tho world

of good you have done me, the new light and life that has come to me with your dear presence! With you I am good, my evil temper s exorcised. I want you—l want you for my own wife! Don’t send me away! It will be a sorry day for your master, my darling, if you refuse to marry him.” “But Miss Raymond,” I gasped, shrinking from him. “You are engaged to her.”

“I am not—l never was,*’ he broke in, eagerly. “Miss Raymond is nothing to* me. Did you think I could marry such a woman, Jandt, with you before my eyes? I have never made love to her; die knows I would never marry her. I have no faith in women outside of you, and you would not blame me, my darling. It you knew Ml my life. Like Diogenes, I doubted if there was an honest man or woman in tlie wot Id until, I met you. I have been a bad man, too, and my heart fails me that such a pure little dove , will never nestle in my bosom; but, please God, if you will come to me, I will strive to be worthy of your precious love. Richard Steele says ‘a good wife is a liberal education.’ Be my education. This is my birthday, be my birthday irift, Janet. Are you still thinking of Miss Raymond? I swear she is not, and never has been, anything to me; don’t make me suffer for the lies reSort has circulated. I said what I* id to try you. Oh, my love, answer me! I am not used to begging.” What need to keep him waiting? I loved him with my whole heart, and It was a very happy little woman who mt two hands in his, and a very teaming face that was hidden on his shoulder. The mystery was explained. I, not Miss Raymond, was to be Mr. Chisholm’s wife.

These events happened nearly five years ago. and in all the time that iios passed since then I have never once regretted the birthday present I made my master. Netta’s at school. On my husband’s knee sits a small Miles Chisholm, who is the delight of both our hearts. Miles senior is still eccentric, but there is perfect sympathy between us; our love has strengthened with each year. I am truly thankful to the Great Giver who has “cast my lines in such pleasant places.”