CHAPTER IX.
V. CHEVILLERE TO B. RANDOLPH.
"Baltimore, 18--.
"You will have learned by the previous letters[A] of Lamar and myself, every interesting circumstance which has occurred to us, together with our _sage_ observations upon men and things as they were presented.
[A] These letters are omitted, of course, as the same information has been already given to the reader.
"Lamar spends more than half his time with the Kentuckian,--he declares that he will never rest satisfied until he persuades him to remove to the high hills of the Santee, where he can have him for a neighbour. He has found a new source of amusement to-day, in the supposed discovery that Damon is in love with the pretty country girl, on whose account, you will recollect, he got into the affray at the circus. Her father invited him to pay them a visit, and Lamar has been trying to persuade him to take advantage of it immediately, and has even offered to accompany him. I have no doubt he would succeed, had not the Kentuckian's idol, Pete Ironsides, been sent into the country 'to board,' as he calls it. As it is, he has determined upon accepting the invitation as he returns.
"My own affairs are assuming too sombre a hue for me to enjoy Lamar's foolery as I used to do, when we three lived together, and when you and I were made joint partakers of his animal spirits; _I_ in fact lived upon his stock in trade in that respect, while you added no little to the joint concern; I was always, I fear, but a sullen companion for such merry fellows. But have you never observed that the most lasting and ardent friendships are formed of such materials? Even in married life, you will, in nine cases out of ten, see the most opposite qualities form the most durable and happy connexions. This is running, I know, right in the teeth of the romantic twaddle of the day, about congenial sentiments, and the like; but is it not true? Look around you, and see in every instance if the lively woman has not chosen a serious husband; the man of genius, a dull drone; the bigot and fanatic, a romp; the pious lady, a libertine. These observations, however, like most others of the college stamp, may be destined to give place to others of a very different character. When I look back upon all the various revolutions of opinion which the mind undergoes, before it arrives even at our present state of maturity, I am dismayed, and almost afraid to look forward.
"Nor is it in matters of abstract opinion alone, I fear, that we are destined to undergo changes. Our hopes _must_ be in some measure paralyzed, our hearts made colder, and our youthful friendships broken asunder! Look what sad havoc a single year has already made in our own catalogue. Where now is that noble band of young and generous spirits, who but a single twelvemonth ago were all the world to each other? Two of them have surrendered the bright hopes of young life upon its very threshold, and the others are scattered abroad over land and sea. But I have wandered from the subject of our adventures, which we have promised faithfully to record.
"Is it not strange how fate seems to play with us, when once we are fairly embarked upon life's great current? I am now completely wound up in perplexities and embarrassments, which, a week ago, I never once thought of. The actors in this new drama in which I am confessedly entangled, were then perfect strangers to me; and how handsomely has providence, or fate, or whatever you may choose to call it, paved the way for my more complete introduction into these new mysteries? The lady becomes intimate with my mother, though coming from opposite ends of the Union. She travels home again and is taken ill on the road, at the very time when Lamar and I strike into the same road. It seemed, too, as if I was placed at the table where our acquaintance commenced, in the very position where I could not avoid making a tender of my services; and now that I have become almost a part of their little family here, I find that they have been afflicted in some way beyond measure. They seem to be surrounded with mysteries and strange connexions; more than once have I gone specially to break the spell, and clear away the trammels which render this most strange and interesting young lady miserable. Various methods have I devised to acquire the secret, but they have always ended in awkwardness and embarrassment. It is no easy matter to initiate one's self into the midst of family secrets, when one is comparatively a stranger; yet it must be done, and that shortly. I feel that it is necessary to my own peace; indeed it is necessary in order that I may see my own way clearly, to have these cruel doubts solved. Every hour but adds to my entanglement, and if there is a shadow of foundation for the phantasies of the lunatic, the sooner I make the plunge the better. Yet how simple I become; if I had now the decision of character for which I once had credit in college, I should not long suffer the dreams of a maniac to disturb my good opinion of this most lovely and interesting girl. You may talk of your embarrassments and difficulties with Bell's untamable humour; they are all child's play,--mere romping,--but the case is not so easy of adjustment here; the old gentleman has just announced, that he shall resume his journey early to-morrow morning; so that something must be effected this afternoon or evening. If there is no other way, I will formally seek an interview with the lady, and, however painful it may be to her, I will ask her to explain her strange fear of the lunatic; of course I must avow the reason; you shall hear the result.
"P.S. _12 o'clock at night_--I have broken the ice, my dear fellow, and no doubt you will think I have got a cold bath for my pains.
"Soon after dark I knocked at the door, and waited some little time with throbbing pulses, to hear that gentle and silvery voice bid me '_come in!_' for I had seen the old gentleman go off in a carriage, to the theatre, as I hoped. No summons came--I repeated my knock with the same result. I do not know what prompted me to an act so rude, but I mechanically pushed open the door before I had reflected a moment. I was in the presence of the little fairy. She held in her hand an open letter, which was wet with tears; her head was leaning far back against the wall; her comb, carrying with it the large rolls of her fair brown hair, was partly lying on the window, and partly stuck into its place; the pearl of her cheeks was still wet with recent tears. I did not know which was now worst, to retreat or go forward. At first I thought she had fainted, and would have sprung to the bell; but I soon saw that she slumbered gently and peacefully. Randolph, there is something heavenly in the slumbers of a young, innocent, and beautiful female; but I will leave my reflections for another time. I was about to retreat, and had so far closed the door as to hide my person, when she suddenly awoke and said, 'Come in, dear father, come in!' the lights had not yet been brought, but I could see the crimson mantling her neck and cheeks as she discovered who the visiter was, and replaced her hair at the same time.
"I felt confused and ashamed, and stammered some vague attempt at an apology. She made light of my intrusion; but one thing attracted my attention particularly. Just as the maid set the lights upon the table in the centre of the room, I thought that I recognised my mother's handwriting in the letter which she now hastily folded up and thrust into her reticule. As I mentioned, she had been weeping over it. This set my imagination to work; I could not divine on what theme my mother could write to her; still less what subject for grief they could have between them. I inquired if she was well; she said 'yes, as well as usual, but exhausted for want of sleep the previous night.' I instantly connected her want of sleep and restlessness with my mother's letter; and before I had sufficiently reflected upon the import of the question, I asked her whether her first acquaintance with my mother had not been formed during her late visit to the springs. She answered in the affirmative. 'But why do you ask?' said she, searchingly. 'For no particular reason, but the question occurred to me, from seeing the handwr
iting of the letter you have just folded up. I thought it strange that you should receive a letter from my mother, when I have received none,' 'This letter,' said she, 'was not received at this place; I was merely refreshing my memory with its contents.' 'It is not often,' said I, 'that my mother writes so as to bring tears into the eyes of her friends, and if you would not consider the expression of the wish too impertinent, and that too when I have little expectation of its being granted, I would say that I never before had so much curiosity to see one of her letters.'
"'Your curiosity,' said she, 'should be gratified immediately, but this letter alludes to circumstances which would perhaps be uninteresting to you; but even were they otherwise, it would excite your curiosity still more to read the letter, when I am unable to give such explanations _now_ as it requires.'
"'You labour under a most grievous error,' said I, 'if you suppose there are any circumstances connected in any way with the present distress of Miss Frances St. Clair, which would be uninteresting to me. The express object of my visit to-night was to ask that very explanation. It may seem strange and impertinent that I should seek that which you evidently avoid; but my excuse is, and it is the only one that I can plead, that this is your last evening in the city; will Miss St. Clair be offended, if I acknowledge that upon this explanation turns my happiness? I am fearful of giving offence by acknowledging that any previous history is necessary of one who carries in her countenance a refutation of all calumnies.'
"I had ventured to seize her unresisting hand, but as I concluded the sentence, she withdrew it, and covered her face with her handkerchief, pressing it hard, and breathing short. At the same time I noticed some confusion with her distress, though without anger. This imboldened me to proceed.
"'It may appear like double presumption in me to ask an explanation before I can proffer a suit, which may be instantly and indignantly rejected, either with or without your history.'
"'I will not prudishly affect to misunderstand you, in either of the prominent points of your remarks,' said she, her head sinking in modest guise, 'but before I reply to them, will you tell me whence you have ever heard any thing against me.'
"The question went straight to my suspicious heart, and rankled there; insomuch that I coughed and hemmed at it several times ineffectually; her eyes being riveted on me all the while, like a judge's upon a detected thief--I felt that her pure and searching gaze was far more honest than my own, and I should speedily have begun an explanation if her father had not at that instant entered the room. I thought he saw and disrelished the matter in hand, for he seated himself in a chair, in a certain manner, by which one understands a person to say, 'I'll stay all night, if you have no objections.' I will be up by daylight in the morning, lest the old gentleman steal a march upon me.
"Yours truly,
"V. CHEVILLERE."
The Kentuckian in New-York; or, The Adventures of Three Southerns. Volume 1 (of 2) Page 9
