CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Warnings of Experience

June 1st, 1821—We have just returned to Staningley after being in London for the spring. My uncle, however, was unhappy, and wanted to return home early. I am content to be home and thus able to draw and paint often. There is one face I continually attempt to draw, and cannot stop thinking about him. I often wonder whether he ever thinks of me.

One evening in the early spring, before we left for London, I was sitting with my aunt near the fireplace, after my uncle had gone to bed.

"Helen," said my aunt, "do you ever think about marriage?"

"Yes aunt, often, but I don't think I shall ever marry."

"Why?"

"Because, there are few men I would wish to marry in the world, but some of them I do wish to marry, I will never meet. And, of the men I do meet and wish to marry, perhaps some of them do not wish to marry me."

"That is no argument. It is true that there are very few men whom you would choose to marry yourself. Now, I want to warn you, Helen, that you are only eighteen, and will have many men interested in you. You must not hurry to get married. You have a good family, good fortune, and you are quite a beauty. I hope you never regret being beautiful!"

"Why, Aunt?"

"Because, my dear, beauty is a quality that, aside from money, is generally prized in the worst kinds of men, and may cause you trouble."

"Well, I shall be careful."

"Believe me, marriage is a serious thing."

"I know it is. Do not fear for me, I will not marry a fool."

When we first arrived in London, I was delighted with the excitement of our London life, but soon became tired of the confusion of the city, and longed for the freedom and quiet of Staningley. My new friends in London were boring and foolish.

There was one older gentleman that annoyed me very much; a rich old friend of my uncle's. Mr Boarham was ugly, annoying, and disagreeable.

One night, at a dance, he was bothering me more than usual. He often requested that I dance with him, or was always nearby. My aunt was pleased at the attention he gave me, but I was quite angry. There was one man watching us, laughing quietly to himself as he did. He introduced himself as Mr Huntingdon, the son of a friend of my uncle's, who had died recently. He asked me to dance. I was quite relieved, and he was my companion for the rest of the evening.

I was sorry to go, for I thought my new friend was quite entertaining, although he did seem a bit too careless and confident. My aunt asked about the young gentleman on the return home, and did not seem pleased at the little attention I gave to Mr Boarham.

"I have heard your uncle speak of young Mr Huntingdon. Your uncle has said he's quite a wild young man. You should be careful, Helen."

I met Mr Huntingdon the next morning, when he arrived at the house to visit my uncle. After that, I met him often, as he frequently came to visit my uncle.

"I wonder why the boy comes so often," my uncle would say, "can you tell me, Helen?" he would ask me with a smile.

One afternoon, I looked out the window and was quite disappointed to see Mr Boarham coming for a visit. He had come to ask me to marry him, and was quite confident that I would not refuse him. My aunt tried to persuade me that Mr Boarham would be an excellent husband, but I very much disliked him. He was, indeed, quite shocked that I refused his offer, and I was forced to explain several times that I would never accept an offer of marriage from him.

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