For many months there walked not on the earth a more sorrowful widower. His heart, his hopes, his joys, seemed buried in the grave of her who had been his wife. His sole consolation was in his children, and he doted over them with more than a father's fondness. But he was still a young man, he was yet a prosperous one, and he had obtained the reputation of being wealthy.
His wife had been dead somewhat more than four years, when there came to reside in H---- a fair and fashionable maiden, whose name was Harriet Scott. She soon obtained the reputation of being the greatest beauty in the town, and was the favourite toast of every bachelor; amongst whom, if she did not conquer many hearts, she conquered many eyes; and if she had not lovers, she had manifold admirers. She was the daughter of an old military man, a major, belonging to some royal veteran battalion. Beautiful she certainly was; but she was vain as beautiful; and her father's pay was all that stood between her and poverty.
There are but few men, and especially mercantile men, who are used to calculate and consider consequences, that are found guilty of the folly of offering their hand to a poor and fashionable woman. What fascination the gay and beautiful Miss Scott threw over our young and rich widower--
"What dreams, what charms, What conjurations, or what mighty magic"--
I cannot tell. The gossips of H----, at their tea parties, said she had "set her cap" at him. But I am not much acquainted with the witchcraft of "setting a cap," or how much the term implies. This I know, that when Walter Kerr first saw Miss Harriet Scott, he thought, what every person said, "that she was very beautiful," though he also thought that she was a vain girl, conscious of her own attractions, and much too fond of dress and display. But, after he had seen her frequently, and she spoke with him familiarly, and that, too, in a voice which was almost as sweet as her face was beautiful--and when he saw, or thought he saw, that she smiled on him more frequently and more sweetly than on any one else--he began to think that she was an interesting girl, and by no means the vain creature he had at first imagined her to be. It is dangerous when a man begins to think a woman interesting. As their acquaintance grew, he discovered that she had no vanity whatever.