CONGRATULATIONS.—RECONCILIATION.—TRUE LOVE TRIUMPHANT.—THE WEDDING.—THE END. O
NE of the first of Mr. Cowdrick’s friends who called to congratulate him upon the result of the painful ordeal to which he had been subjected was Father Tunicle.
“It must have been,” said the faithful pastor, “a terrible strain upon a man of delicate sensibility to sit there, uncertain what your fate would be. I sympathize with you heartily, and rejoice that the end was not worse.”
“You are very kind,” said Mr. Cowdrick, smiling. “Life is full of sorrows and afflictions for all of us; and of course I cannot expect to escape bearing my share of them.”
“No; and it is a comfort to reflect that these troubles are sent to us for our good. I shall expect you now to be a more efficient worker than ever at St. Cadmus’s.”
“I don’t know,” replied Mr. Cowdrick reflectively.204 “Possibly it might be better, all things considered, if I should not resume my official position in the church.”
“But, really, you must,” answered Father Tunicle. “You are still a member of the vestry, and matters will move more smoothly now, for Yetts has resigned. He was the thorn in my side.”
“Where has Yetts gone?”
“I believe he has taken a pew at St. Sepulchre’s, which, you know, is extremely Low Church. Poor Yetts! He has fallen very far! Do you know that the rector of St. Sepulchre’s positively will not use a red altar-cloth on martyrs’ days; and that he walks to church with an umbrella upon the Festival of St. Swithin,—a positive insult to the memory of the saint.”
“Incredible!” exclaimed Mr. Cowdrick.
“I have it upon good authority. Such practices do much to hinder the progress of the work of evangelization.”
“I should think so,” said Mr. Cowdrick.
“And speaking of that work,” continued Father Tunicle, “I want to obtain a little pecuniary assistance from you. I have just prepared for circulation among the depraved poor a little tract upon the sufferings of St. Blasius of Cappadocia, but I have not money enough to print it. Can you help me?”
“Certainly. How much do you want?”
205 “Fifty dollars are all that I ought to ask for. That sum, I think, will enable me to increase the religious fervor of the poor in my parish to a notable extent.”
Mr. Cowdrick handed the money to the devoted clergyman, who thereupon withdrew.
Another early caller upon Mr. Cowdrick was an agent of the Widows’ and Orphans’ Life Assurance Company, in which the banker held a policy. This gentleman, representing a corporation which a week before was preparing to take legal measures to contest Mrs. Cowdrick’s claim, brought with him the Company’s last annual statement, and a formidable array of other documents, with an intent to persuade Mr. Cowdrick to have his life insured for an additional twenty thousand dollars.
Upon the second day after Mr. Cowdrick’s release, also, the De Flukes sent to Mrs. Cowdrick an invitation to a kettle-drum, together with a note explaining that a former unfortunate recall of an invitation was due to the colossal stupidity of a servant who had since been dismissed.
This very considerate behavior on the part of the De Flukes had a favorable effect upon Mrs. Cowdrick’s spirits. She brightened up in a wonderful manner, and there seemed to be every reason for believing that her load of sorrow was lifted at last.
Colonel Hoker, writing in the Crab of the trial and its results, explained to his readers that the206 verdict was rather technical than indicative of intentional wrong-doing, and he congratulated the community that one of its most enterprising and valuable citizens had succeeded in escaping from the toils of complicated financial transactions in which he had been enveloped by injudicious friends.
Colonel Hoker was disposed to criticise with some degree of severity Coroner McSorley’s absurd, not to say wicked, performances with the unearthed bones; but the violence of the indignation with which he contemplated the phenomenal stupidity and the grasping avarice of the coroner, with respect to the remains in question, was greatly tempered by the consideration that Coroner McSorley’s brother was sheriff of the county, with an advertising patronage estimated by good judges to amount to not less than fifty thousand dollars a year.
When Mr. Cowdrick received the note addressed to him by Mr. Weems, he replied briefly, asking the artist to call upon him at his residence; and when Mr. Weems did so, Mr. Cowdrick received him with gravity, and with some degree of coolness.
“Mr. Weems,” said the banker, “I sent for you because I wished to discuss with you the matter referred to in your note. My first impulse was to take no notice of the communication, for I will not conceal from you that your treatment of my daughter had embittered me against you to such207 an extent, that I felt as if I could never forgive you. But my child’s happiness must be considered before my own feelings. It is my duty and my privilege so to consider them; and, to be frank with you, her sufferings have been so intense within the last few days, that I have felt myself willing to make almost any sacrifice in order to alleviate them.”
“Miss Leonie is not ill, I trust?” asked Mr. Weems, with an admirably simulated look of alarm upon his countenance.
“Mr. Weems,” said Mr. Cowdrick, seriously, “it may be injudicious for me to say so to you, because it will give you an unfair advantage at the outset; but Leonie has been deeply distressed at your treatment of her. If I were a sentimental man, I should say that her heart is breaking. She refuses food, she is continually downcast and melancholy, and in her broken sleep she babbles continually of you.”
“Poor thing!” said Mr. Weems, wiping his eyes.
“Mrs. Cowdrick and I have been much distressed because of her condition; but we should have been at a loss for a remedy if your note had not suggested one.”
“I have been equally unhappy myself,” said Mr. Weems. “I wrote because I could find relief for my feelings in no other manner.”
“Now that you are here,” continued Mr. Cowdrick, “we might as well have a complete understanding.208 Are you prepared to make a proposition of any kind?”
“I should like to offer a suggestion, if I dared.”
“You have my permission to speak freely; and I would add, in order to remove any misapprehension, that Leonie Cowdrick need not seek an alliance unless she chooses to do so, for her parents are well able to maintain her in luxury.”
“Well, Mr. Cowdrick,” replied Mr. Weems, “what I have to say is, that if Leonie can forgive and forget the past, it will give me the greatest happiness to renew my engagement with her, and to return to the conditions that existed before that miserable quarrel occurred. Do you think she will consent?”
“Under some pressure from me and from her mother, I think she will. For my part, I am willing to overlook what has happened, and to receive you once more into my family.”
Mr. Cowdrick extended his hand, and Mr. Weems shook it warmly.
“And now, Mr. Weems,” said Mr. Cowdrick, “there’s another matter, of which I wish to speak. I refer to your art. Pardon me for asking you, but although I shall make some provision for Leonie, you, of course, must do something also. What is the condition of your art—in a financial sense, I mean?”
“Well, business is a little dull just at this moment.”
209 “I thought so. The proportion of old masters in the market to the purchasing population is too great. Can’t you take up something else?”
Mr. Weems reflected for a moment upon the painful lack of opportunities to rob banks with impunity and profit, and then said,—
“No; I am afraid not. I am a painter and must live by painting.”
“Just so; but why not paint pictures that can be sold readily?”
“There is no money in landscapes, still-life, or figure-pieces, unless a man has genius. A painter of ordinary powers has no chance.”
“But why not imitate genius, just as you imitate the old masters?”
“How do you mean?”
“Genius is apt to be eccentric. If you make a show of eccentricity, most persons will accept that as a sure token of genius. You want to be odd, novel, peculiar, altogether different from other people.”
“There may be something in that.”
“Paint a Venus with feet like a fishwoman, and with a cast in her eye. Paint a Moses with a moustache and spectacles. Daub off a jet-black night-scene, in which you can perceive nothing but absolute, impenetrable gloom, and label it ‘A Meditation upon Darkness;’ cover a canvas with blots of white paint, with nothing but the bowsprit of a210 ship visible, and call it ‘A Misty Morning in the Harbor.’ That is the way to provoke criticism and discussion, to acquire notoriety, and to find purchasers.”
“It is a good idea,” replied Mr. Weems. “I am much obliged to you for it; I will accept it, and act upon it.”
“Would you like to see Leonie before you go?” asked Mr. Cowdrick.
“If she is willing, I should very much.”
“I will speak to her about it, and prepare her for the interview,” said Mr. Cowdrick, withdrawing from the room.
A moment later he returned with Leonie upon his arm. She had her handkerchief to her eyes.
“Leonie,” said Mr. Cowdrick, “this is Julius. He asks you to forgive him.”
 
“Then she Flew into his Arms.”
Leonie lifted up her head, and the lovers looked at each other for an instant. Then she flew into his arms before a word had been spoken by either of them, and as he clasped her closely, she nestled her head upon his bosom.
Mr. Weems retained his self-possession so perfectly during this touching scene that he was conscious of the fracture of some cigars in his waistcoat pocket by the presence of Leonie’s shoulder; but he bore the disaster bravely, without flinching.
Before he released his hold of her, Mrs. Cowdrick entered the room, and was so much overcome by211 the intensity of her emotions when she saw the lovers, that she dropped upon the sofa, and remained in a hysterical condition for at least ten minutes, despite the efforts of Mr. Cowdrick to soothe her.
When Mrs. Cowdrick’s emotion had at last been brought to some extent under control, Mr. Cowdrick suggested that it might be as well to fix at once upon a day for the wedding, so that the two lovers, after all the sorrows and misunderstandings that had kept them apart, might enter the perfect bliss and the sure serenity of wedlock.
Mr. Cowdrick pressed for an early date, and although Mrs. Cowdrick betrayed new and alarming hysterical symptoms when her husband expressed the opinion that all the arrangements might be made within a week, she finally reconciled herself to the selection by Leonie of a day exactly three weeks distant.
Upon the very next morning Mrs. Cowdrick and Leonie began the work of preparation; and it is unnecessary to say that while the labor continued, both of them were in a state of nearly perfect felicity.
If earth is ever to a woman a little heaven here below,............