CHAPTER XXVIII.
"Hear me a little; For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady: I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions start Into her face; a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness bear away those blushes--" SHAKESPEARE
I reached the Wallingford before eleven, where I found Neb in attendancewith my trunks and other effects. Being now on board my own craft,I gave orders to profit by a favourable turn in the wind, and to getunder-way at once, instead of waiting for the flood. When I left thedeck, the sloop was above the State Prison, a point towards whichthe town itself had made considerable progress since the time I firstintroduced it to the reader. Notwithstanding this early start, we didnot enter the creek until about eight in the morning of the second day.
No sooner was the vessel near enough, than my foot was on the wharf, andI began to ascend the hill. From the summit of the latter I saw my lateguardian hurrying along the road, it afterwards appearing that a straypaper from town had announced the arrival of the Dawn, and that I wasexpected to come up in the sloop. I was received with extended hands,was kissed just as if I had still been a boy, and heard the guilelessold man murmuring his blessings on me, and a prayer of thankfulness.Nothing ever changed good Mr. Hardinge, who, now that he could commandthe whole income of his daughter, was just as well satisfied to live onthe three or four hundreds he got from his glebe and his parish, as heever had been in his life.
"Welcome back, my dear boy, welcome back!" added Mr. Hardinge, hisvoice and manner still retaining their fervour. "I said you _must_--you_would_ be on board, as soon as they reported the sloop in sight, forI judged your heart by my own. Ah! Miles, will the time ever come whenClawbonny will be good enough for you? You have already as much money asyou can want, and more will scarce contribute to your happiness."
"Speaking of money, my dear sir," I answered, "while I have toregret the loss of your respectable kinswoman, I may be permittedto congratulate you on the accession to an old family property--Iunderstand you inherit, in your family, all of Mrs. Bradfort'sestate-one valuable in amount, and highly acceptable, no doubt, ashaving belonged to your ancestors."
"No doubt--no doubt--it is just as you say; and I hope these unexpectedriches will leave us all as devout servants of God, as I humbly trustthey found us. The property, however, is not mine, but Lucy's; I neednot have any reserve with you, though Rupert has hinted it might beprudent not to let the precise state of the case be known, since itmight bring a swarm of interested fortune-hunters about the dear girl,and has proposed that we rather favour the notion the estate is to bedivided among us. This I cannot do directly, you will perceive, as itwould be deception; but one may be silent. With you, however, it isa different matter, and so I tell you the truth at once. I am madeexecutor, and act, of course; and this makes me the more glad to seeyou, for I find so much business with pounds, shillings and pence drawsmy mind off from the duties of my holy office, and that I am in dangerof becoming selfish and mercenary. A selfish priest, Miles, is as odiousa thing as a mercenary woman!"
"Little danger of your ever becoming anything so worldly, my dear sir.But Grace-you have not mentioned my beloved sister?"
I saw Mr. Hardinge's countenance suddenly change. The expression of joyinstantly deserted it, and it wore an air of uncertainty and sadness. Aless observant man than the good divine, in all the ordinary concernsof life, did not exist; but it was apparent that he now saw something totrouble him.
"Yes, Grace," he answered, doubtingly; "the dear girl is here, and allalone, and not as blithe and amusing as formerly. I am glad of yourreturn on her account, too, Miles. She is not well, I fear; I would havesent for a physician last week, or the moment I saw her; but she insistson it, there is no need of one. She is frightfully beautiful, Miles! Youknow how it is with Grace--her countenance always seemed more fitted forheaven than earth; and now it always reminds me of a seraph's that wasgrieving over the sins of men!"
"I fear, sir, that Rupert's account, then, is true, and that Grace isseriously ill?"
"I hope not, boy--I fervently pray not! She is not as usual--_that_ istrue; but her mind, her thoughts, all her inclinations, and, if I mayso express it, her energies, seem turned to heaven. There has been anawakening in the spirit of Grace, that is truly wonderful. She readsdevout books, meditates, and, I make no doubt, prays, from morn tillnight. This is the secret of her withdrawal from the world, and herrefusing of all Lucy's invitations. You know how the girls love eachother--but Grace declines going to Lucy, though she knows that Lucycannot come to her."
I now understood it all. A weight like that of a mountain fell upon myheart, and I walked on some distance without speaking. To me, the wordsof my excellent guardian sounded like the knell of a sister I almostworshipped.
"And Grace--does she expect me, now?" I at length ventured to say,though the words were uttered in tones so tremulous, that even theusually unobservant divine perceived the change.
"She does, and delighted she was to hear it. The only thing of a worldlynature that I have heard her express of late, was some anxious, sisterlywish for your speedy return. Grace loves you, Miles, next to her God!"
Oh! how I wished this were true, but, alas! alas! I knew it was farotherwise!
"I see you are disturbed, my dear boy, on account of what I have said,"resumed Mr. Hardinge; "probably from serious apprehensions about yoursister's health. She is not well, I allow; but it is the effect ofmental ailments. The precious creature has had too vivid views ofher own sinful nature, and has suffered deeply, I fear. I trust, myconversation and prayers have not been without their effect, through thedivine aid, and that she is now more cheerful--nay, she has assured mewithin half an hour, if it turned out that you were in the sloop, sheshould be happy!"
For my life, I could not have conversed longer on the painful subject;I made no reply. As we had still a considerable distance to walk, I wasglad to turn the conversation to other subjects, lest I should becomeunmanned, and sit down to weep in the middle of the road.
"Does Lucy intend to visit Clawbonny, this summer?" I asked, though itseemed strange to me to suppose that the farm was not actually Lucy'shome. I am afraid I felt a jealous dislike to the idea that the dearcreature should have houses and lands of her own; or any that was not tobe derived through me.
"I hope so," answered her father, "though her new duties do not leaveLucy as much her own mistress as I could wish. You saw her, and herbrother, Miles, I take it for granted?"
"I met Rupert in the street, sir, and had a short interview with theMertons and Lucy at the theatre. Young Mr. and old Mrs. Drewett were ofthe party."
The good divine turned short round to me, and looked as conscious andknowing as one of his singleness of mind and simplicity of habits couldlook. Had a knife penetrated my flesh, I could not have winced more thanI did; still, I affected a manner that was very foreign to my feelings.
"What do you think of this young Mr. Drewett, boy?" asked Mr. Hardinge,with an air of confidential interest, and an earnestness of manner,that, with him, was inseparable from all that concerned his daughter."Do you approve?"
"I believe I understand you, sir;--you mean me to infer that Mr. Drewettis a suitor for Miss Hardinge's hand."
"It would be improper to say this much, even to you, Miles, did notDrewett take good care, himself, to let everybody know it."
"Possibly with a view to keep off other pretenders"--I rejoined, with abitterness I could not control.
Now, Mr. Hardinge was one of the last men in the world to suspect evil.He looked surprised, therefore, at my remark, and I was probably notmuch out of the way, in fancying that he looked displeased.
"That is not right, my dear boy," he said, gravely.
"We should try to think the best and not the worst, of ourfellow-creatures."--Excellent old man, how faithfully didst thoupractise on thy precept!--"It is a wise rule, and a safe one; moreparticularly in connection with our own weaknesses. Then, it i
s butnatural that Drewett should wish to secure Lucy; and if he adopt nomeans less manly than the frank avowal of his own attachment, surelythere is no ground of complaint."
I was rebuked; and what is more, I felt that the rebuke was merited. Assome atonement for my error, I hastened to add--
"Very truly, sir; I admit the unfairness of my remark, and canonly atone for it by adding it is quite apparent Mr. Drewett is notinfluenced by interested motives, since he certainly was attentive toMiss Hardinge previously to Mrs. Bradfort's death, and when he could notpossibly have anticipated the nature of her will."
"Quite true, Miles, and very properly and justly remarked. Now, to you,who have known Lucy from childhood, and who regard her much as Rupertdoes, it may not seem so very natural that a young man can love herwarmly and strongly, for herself, alone--such is apt to be the effect ofbrotherly feeling; but I can assure you, Lucy is really a charming, aswe all know she is a most excellent, girl!"
"To whom are you speaking thus, sir! I can assure you, nothing is easierthan for me to conceive how possible it is for any man to love yourdaughter. As respects Grace, I confess there, is a difference--forI affirm she has always seemed to me too saintly, too much allied toHeaven already, to be subject herself, to the passions of earth."
"That is what I have just been telling you, and we must endeavour toovercome and humanize--if I may so express it--Grace's propensity. Thereis nothing more dangerous to a healthful frame of mind, in a religiouspoint of view, Miles, than excitement--it is disease, and not faith, norcharity, nor hope, nor humility, nor anything that is commanded; but ournative weaknesses taking a wrong direction, under a physical impulse,rather than the fruits of repentance, and the succour afforded by thespirit of God. We nowhere read of any excitement, and howlings andwaitings among the apostles."
How could I enlighten the good old man on the subject of my sister'smalady? That Grace, with her well-tempered mind, was the victim ofreligious exaggeration, I did not for a moment believe; but that she hadhad her heart blighted, her affections withered, her hopes deceived, byRupert's levity and interestedness, his worldly-mindedness and vanity, Icould foresee, and was prepared to learn; though these were facts notto be communicated to the father of the offender. I made no answer, butmanaged to turn the conversation towards the farm, and those interestsabout which I could affect an interest that I was very far from feeling,just at that moment. This induced the divine to inquire into the resultof my late voyage, and enabled me to collect sufficient fortitude tomeet Grace, with the semblance of firmness, at least.
Mr. Hardinge made a preconcerted signal, as soon as he came in view ofthe house, that apprised its inmates of my arrival; and we knew, whilestill half a mile from the buildings, that the news had produced a greatcommotion. All the blacks met us on the little lawn--for the girls,since reaching womanhood, had made this change in the old door-yard--andI had to go through the process of shaking hands with every one of them.This was done amid hearty bursts of laughter, the mode in which thenegroes of that day almost always betrayed their joy, and many a"welcome home, Masser Mile!" and "where a Neb got to, dis time, MasserMile?" was asked by more than one; and great was the satisfaction, whenI told his generation and race that the faithful fellow would be up withthe cart that was to convey my luggage. But, Grace awaited me. I brokethrough the throng, and entered the house. In the door I was met byChloe, a girl about my own sister's age, and a sort of cousin of Neb'sby the half-blood, who had been preferred of late years to functionssomewhat resembling those of a lady's maid. I say of the half-blood;for, to own the truth, few of the New York blacks, in that day, couldhave taken from their brothers and sisters, under the old _dictum_ ofthe common law, which declared that none but heirs of the whole bloodshould inherit. Chloe met me in the door-way, and greeted me with oneof her sweetest smiles, as she curtsied, and really looked as pleasedas all my slaves did, at seeing their _young_ master again. How theytouched my heart, at times, by their manner of talking about "_ole_Masser, and _ole_ Missus," always subjects of regret among negroes whohad been well treated by them. Metaphysicians may reason as subtly asthey can about the races and colours, and on the aptitude of the blackto acquire, but no one can ever persuade me out of the belief of theirextraordinary aptitude to love. As between themselves and their masters,their own children and those of the race to which they were subject, Ihave often seen instances which have partaken of the attachment ofthe dog to the human family; and cases in which the children of theirmasters have been preferred to those of their own flesh and blood, wereof constant occurrence.
"I hope you been werry well, sah, Masser Mile," said Chloe, who had someextra refinement, as the growth of her position.
"Perfectly, my good girl, and I am glad to see you looking so well--youreally are growing handsome, Chloe."
"Oh! Masser Mile---you so droll!--now you stay home, sah, long time?"
"I am afraid not, Chloe, but one never knows. Where shall I find mysister?"
"Miss Grace tell me come here, Masser Mile, and say she wish to see youin de family-room. She wait dere, now, some time."
"Thank you, Chloe; and do you see that no one interrupts us. I have notseen my sister for near a year."
"Sartain, sah; all as you say." Then the girl, whose face shone like ablack bottle that had just been dipped in water, showed her brilliantteeth, from ear to ear, laughed outright, looked foolish, after whichshe looked earnest, when the secret burst out of her heart, in themelodious voice of a young negress, that did not know whether to laughor to cry--"Where Neb, Masser Mile? what he do now; de _fel_-ler!"
"He will kiss you in ten minutes, Chloe; so put the best face on thematter you are able."
"_Dat_ he wont--de sauce-box---Miss Grace teach me better dan _dat_."
I waited to hear no more, but proceeded towards the triangular littleroom, with steps so hurried and yet so nervous, that I do not remember,ever before to have laid my hand on a lock in a manner so tremulous--Ifound myself obliged to pause, ere I could muster resolution to open thedoor, a hope coming over me that the impatience of Grace would save methe trouble, and that I should find her in my arms before I shouldbe called on to exercise any more fortitude. All was still as death,however, within the room, and I opened the door, as if I expected tofind one of the bodies I had formerly seen in its coffin, in thislast abiding place above ground, of one dead. My sister was on the_causeuse_, literally unable to rise from debility and agitation. Ishall not attempt to describe the shock her appearance gave me. Iwas prepared for a change, but not one that placed her, as my heartinstantly announced, so near the grave!
Grace extended both arms, and I threw myself at her side, drew herwithin my embrace, and folded her to my heart, with the tenderness withwhich one would have embraced an infant. In this situation we both weptviolently, and I am not ashamed to say that I sobbed like a child. Idare say five minutes passed in this way, without either of us speakinga word.
"A merciful and all gracious God be praised! You are restored to me intime, Miles!" murmured my sister, at length. "I was afraid it might betoo late."
"Grace!--Grace!--What means this, love?--my precious, my only, my mostdearly beloved sister, why do I find you thus?"
"Is it necessary to speak, Miles?--cannot you see?--_do_ you not see,and understand it all?"
The fervent pressure I gave my sister, announced how plainly Icomprehended the whole history. That Grace could ever love, and forget,I did not believe; but, that her tenderness for Rupert--one whom I knewfor so frivolous and selfish a being, should reduce her to this terriblestate, I had not indeed foreseen as a thing possible. Little did I thenunderstand how confidingly a woman loves, and how apt she is to endowthe being of her choice with all the qualities se could wish him topossess. In the anguish of my soul I muttered, loud enough to be heard,"the heartless villain!"
Grace instantly rose from my arms. At that moment, she looked more likea creature of heaven, than one that was still connected with this wickedworld. Her beauty could scar
cely be called impaired, though I dreadedthat she would be snatched away from me in the course of the interview;so frail and weak did it appear was her hold of life. In some respectsI never saw her more lovely than she seemed on this very occasion.This was when the hectic of disease imparted to the sweetest and mostsaint-like eyes that were ever set in the human countenance, a speciesof holy illumination. Her countenance, now, was pale and colourless;however, and her look sorrowful and filled with reproach.
"Brother," she said, solemnly, "this _must_ not be. It is not what Godcommands--it is not what I expected from you--what I have a right toexpect from one whom I am assured loves me, though none other of earthcan be said to do so."
"It is not easy, my sister, for a man to forget or forgive the wretchwho has so long misled you--misled us all, and then turned to another,under the impulse of mere vanity."
"Miles, my kind and manly brother, listen to me," Grace rejoined,fervently pressing one of my hands in both of hers, and scarcely able tocommand herself, through alarm. "All thoughts of anger, of resentment,of pride even, must be forgotten. You owe it to my sex, to the dreadfulimputations that might otherwise rest on my name--had I anything toreproach myself with as a woman. I could submit to _any_ punishment; butsurely, surely, it is not a sin so unpardonable to be unable to commandthe affections, that I deserve to have my name, after I shall be dead,mixed up with rumours connected with such a quarrel. You have livedas brothers, too--then there is good, excellent, truthful, piousMr. Hardinge; who is yet _my_ guardian, you know; and Lucy, dear,true-hearted, faithful Lucy--"
"Why is not dear, true-hearted, faithful Lucy, here, watching over you,Grace, at this very moment?" I demanded, huskily.
"She knows nothing of my situation--it is a secret, as well as itscause, from all but God, myself, and you. Ah! I knew it would beimpossible to deceive your love, Miles! which has ever been to me, allthat a sister could desire."
"And Lucy! how has _her_ affection been deceived?--Has she too, eyesonly for those she has recently learned to admire?"
"You do her injustice, brother. Lucy has not seen me, since the greatchange that I can myself see has come over me. Another time, I willtell you all. At present I can only say, that as soon as I had certainexplanations with Rupert, I left town, and have studiously concealedfrom dear Lucy the state of my declining health. I write to her weekly,and get answers; everything passing between us as cheerfully, andapparently, as happily as ever. No, do not blame Lucy; who, I amcertain, would quit everything and everybody to come to me, had she thesmallest notion of the truth. On the contrary, I believe she thinks Iwould rather not have her at Clawbonny, just at this moment, much asshe knows I love her; for, one of Lucy's observation and opportunitiescannot but suspect the truth. Let me lie on your breast, brother; itwearies me to talk so much."
I sat holding this beloved sister in my arms, fully an hour, neither ofus speaking. I was afraid of injuring her, by further excitement, andshe was glad to take refuge in silence, from the feelings of maidenshame that could not be otherwise than mingled with such a dialogue. Asmy cheek leaned on her silken hair, I could see large tears rolling downthe pallid cheeks; but the occasional pressure of the hands, told mehow much she was gladdened by my presence. After some ten or fifteenminutes, the exhausted girl dropped into feverish and disturbedslumbers, that I would have remained motionless throughout the nightto maintain. I am persuaded it was quite an hour before this sceneterminated. Grace then arose, and said, with one of her most angelicsmiles--
"You see how it is with me, Miles--feeble as an infant, and almostas troublesome. You must bear with me, for you will be my nurse. Onepromise I must have, dearest, before we leave this room."
"It is yours, my sister, let it be what it may; I can now refuse younothing," said I, melted to feminine tenderness. "And yet, Grace, since_you_ exact a promise, _I_ have a mind to attach a condition."
"What condition, Miles, can you attach, that I will refuse? I consent toeverything, without even knowing your wishes."
"Then I promise not to call Rupert to an account for his conduct---notto question him--nay, even not to reproach him," I rejoined, enlargingmy pledges, as I saw by Grace's eyes that she exacted still more.
The last promise, however, appeared fully to satisfy her. She kissed myhand, and I felt hot tears falling on it.
"Now name your conditions, dearest brother," she said, after a littletime taken to recover herself; "name them, and see how gladly I shallaccept them all."
"I have but one--it is this. I must take the complete direction of thecare of you--must have power to send for what physician I please, whatfriends I please, what advice or regimen I please!"
"Oh! Miles, you _could_ not--_cannot_ think of sending for _him_!"
"Certainly not; his presence would drive me from the house. With thatone exception, then, my condition is allowed?"
Grace made a sign of assent, and sunk on my bosom again, nearlyexhausted with the scene through which she had just gone. I perceived itwould not do to dwell any longer on the subject we had been alluding to,rather than discussing; and for another hour did I sit sustaining thatbeloved form, declining to speak, and commanding silence on her part. Atthe end of this second little sleep, Grace was more refreshed than shehad been after her first troubled repose, and she declared herself ableto walk to her room, where she wished to lie on her own bed until thehour of dinner. I summoned Chloe, and, together, we led the invalid toher chamber. As we threaded the long passages, my sister's head restedon my bosom, her eyes were turned affectionately upward to my face, andseveral times I felt the gentle pressure of her emaciated hands, givenin the fervour of devoted sisterly love.
I needed an hour to compose myself, after this interview. In the privacyof my own room, I wept like a child over the wreck of the being I hadleft so beautiful and perfect, though even then the canker of doubt hadbegun to take root. I had yet her explanations to hear, and resolved tocommand myself so far as to receive them in a manner not to increase thepain Grace must feel in making them. As soon as sufficiently calm, Isat down to write letters. One was to Marble. I desired him to let thesecond-mate see the ship discharged, and to come up to me by the returnof the sloop. I wished to see him in person, as I did not think I couldbe able to go out in the vessel on her next voyage, and I intended himto sail in her as master. It was necessary we should consult togetherpersonally. I did not conceal the reason of this determination, thoughI said nothing of the cause of my sister's state. Marble had a list ofphysicians given him, and he was to bring up with him the one he couldobtain, commencing with the first named, and following in the ordergiven. I had earned ten thousand dollars, nett, by the labours of thepast year, and I determined every dollar of it should be devoted toobtaining the best advice the country then afforded. I had sent for suchmen as Hosack, Post, Bayley, M'Knight, Moore, &c.; and even thought ofendeavouring to procure Rush from Philadelphia, but was deterred frommaking the attempt by the distance, and the pressing nature of theemergency. In 1803, Philadelphia was about three days' journey fromClawbonny, even allowing for a favourable time on the river; with amoderately unfavourable, five or six; whereas the distance can now bepassed, including the chances of meeting the departures and arrivals ofthe different lines, in from twelve to fifteen hours. Such is one of theprodigious effects of an improved civilization; and in all that relatesto motion, and which falls short of luxury, or great personal comfort,this country takes a high place in the scale of nations. That it is asmuch in arrears in other great essentials, however, particularly inwhat relates to tavern comforts, no man who is familiar with the bettercivilization of Europe, can deny. It is a singular fact, that we havegone backward in this last particular, within the present century, andall owing to the increasingly gregarious habits of the population. Butto return to my painful theme, from which, even at this distance oftime, I am only too ready to escape.
I was on the point of writing to Lucy, but hesitated. I hardly knewwhether to summon her to Clawbonny or not. That she wou
ld come, and thatinstantly, the moment she was apprised of Grace's condition, I did notin the least doubt. I was not so mad as to do her character injustice,because I had my doubts about being loved as I had once hoped to be.That Lucy was attached to me, in one sense, I did not in the leastdoubt; this, her late reception of me sufficiently proved; and I couldnot question her continued affection for Grace, after all the latter hadjust told me. Even did Lucy prefer Andrew Drewett, it was no proof shewas not just as kind-hearted, as ready to be of service, and as true inher friendship, as she ever had been. Still, she was Rupert's sister,must have penetration enough to understand the cause of Grace's illness,and might not enter as fully into her wrongs as one could wish in aperson that was to watch the sick pillow. I resolved to learn more thatday, before this portion of my duty was discharged.
Neb was summoned, and sent to the wharf, with an order to get theWallingford ready to sail for town at the first favourable moment. Thesloop was merely to be in ballast, and was to return to Clawbonny withno unnecessary delay. There was an eminent, but retired physician ofthe name of Bard, who had a country residence on the other bank ofthe Hudson, and within a few hours' sail from Clawbonny. I knew hischaracter, though I was not acquainted with him, personally. Few of usof the right bank, indeed, belonged to the circles of the left, inthat day; the increasing wealth and population of the country has sincebrought the western side into more notice. I wrote also to Dr. Bard,inclosing a cheque for a suitable fee; made a strong appeal to hisfeelings--which would have been quite sufficient with, such a man--andordered Neb to go out in the Grace and Lucy, immediately, to deliver themissive. Just as this arrangement was completed, Chloe came to summon meto my sister's room.
I found Grace still lying on her bed, but stronger, and materiallyrefreshed. For a moment, I began to think my fears had exaggerated thedanger, and that I was not to lose my sister. A few minutes of closeobservation, however convinced me, that the first impression was thetrue one. I am not skilled in the theories of the science, if there beany great science about it, and can hardly explain, even now, the truephysical condition of Grace. She had pent up her sufferings in her ownbosom, for six cruel months, in the solitude of a country-house, livingmost of the time entirely alone; and this, they tell me, is what few,even of the most robust frames, can do with impunity. Frail as she hadever seemed, her lungs were sound, and she spoke easily and with almostall her original force, so that her wasting away was not the consequenceof anything pulmonary. I rather think the physical effects were tobe traced to the unhealthy action of the fluids, which were derangedthrough the stomach and spleen. The insensible perspiration was affectedalso, I believe; the pores of the skin failing to do their duty. I daresay there is not a graduate of the thousand and one medical colleges ofthe country, who is not prepared to laugh at this theory, while unablequite likely to produce a better,--so much easier is it to pull downthan to build up; but my object is merely to give the reader ageneral idea of my poor sister's situation. In outward appearance, hercountenance denoted that expression which the French so well describe,by their customary term of "_fatigue_," rather than any other positiveindication of disease--Grace's frame was so delicate by nature, that alittle falling away was not as perceptible in her, as it would have beenin most persons; though her beautiful little hands wanted that fulnesswhich had rendered their taper fingers and roseate tint formerly so veryfaultless. There must have been a good deal of fever, as her colourwas often higher than was formerly usual. It was this circumstancethat continued to render her beauty even unearthly, without itsbeing accompanied by the emaciation so common in the latter stages ofpulmonary disease, though its tendency was strongly to undermine herstrength.
Grace, without rising from her pillow, now asked me for an outline of mylate voyage. She heard me, I make no doubt, with real interest, for allthat concerned me, in a measure concerned her. Her smile was sweetnessitself, as she listened to my successes; and the interest she manifestedin Marble, with whose previous history she was well acquainted, wasnot less than I had felt myself, in hearing his own account of hisadventures. All this delighted me, as it went to prove that I hadbeguiled the sufferer from brooding over her own sorrows; and whatmight not be hoped for, could we lead her back to mingle in the ordinaryconcerns of life, and surround her with the few friends she so tenderlyloved, and whose absence, perhaps, had largely contributed to reducingher to her present state? This thought recalled Lucy to my mind, and thewish I had to ascertain how far it might be agreeable to the latter, tobe summoned to Clawbonny. I determined to lead the conversation to thissubject.
"You have told me, Grace," I said, "that you send and receive lettersweekly, to and from Lucy?"
"Each time the Wallingford goes and comes; and that you know is weekly.I suppose the reason I got no letter to-day was owing to the fact thatthe sloop sailed before her time. The Lord High Admiral was on board;and, like wind and tide, _he_ waits for no man!"
"Bless you--bless you, dearest sister--this gaiety removes a mountainfrom my heart!"
Grace looked pleased at first; then, as she gazed wistfully intomy face, I could see her own expression change to one of melancholyconcern. Large tears started from her eyes, and three or four followedeach other down her cheeks. All this said, plainer than words, that,though a fond brother might be momentarily deceived, she herselfforesaw the end. I bowed my head to the pillow, stifled the groans thatoppressed me, and kissed the tears from her cheeks. To put an end tothese distressing scenes, I determined to be more business-like infuture, and suppress all feeling, as much as possible.
"The Lord High Admiral," I resumed, "is a species of Turk, on boardship, as honest Moses Marble will tell you, when you see him, Grace.But, now for Lucy and her letters--I dare say the last are filled withtender secrets, touching such persons as Andrew Drewett, and others ofher admirers, which render it improper to show any of them to me?"
Grace looked at me, with earnestness, as if to ascertain whether I wasreally as unconcerned as I affected to be. Then she seemed to muse,picking the cotton of the spotless counterpane on which she was lying,like one at a loss what to say or think.
"I see how it is," I resumed, forcing a smile; "the hint has beenindiscreet. A rough son of Neptune is not the proper confidant for thesecrets of Miss Lucy Hardinge. Perhaps you are right; fidelity to eachother being indispensable in your sex."
"It is not that, Miles. I doubt if Lucy ever wrote me a line, that youmight not see--in proof of which, you shall have the package of herletters, with full permission to read every one of them. It will be likereading the correspondence of another _sister_!"
I fancied Grace laid an emphasis on the last word she used; and Istarted at its unwelcome sound--unwelcome, as applied to Lucy Hardinge,to a degree that I cannot express. I had observed that Lucy never usedany of these terms, as connected with me, and it was one of the reasonswhy I had indulged in the folly of supposing that she was conscious ofa tenderer sentiment. But Lucy was so natural, so totally free fromexaggeration, so just and true in all her feelings, that one could notexpect from her most of the acts of girlish weakness. As for Grace, shecalled Chloe, gave her the keys of her secretary, and told her to bringme the package she described.
"Go and look them over, Miles," said my sister, as I received theletters; "there must be more than twenty of them, and you can read halfbefore the dinner hour. I will meet you at table; and let me implore younot to alarm good Mr. Hardinge. He does not believe me seriously ill;and it cannot benefit him or me, to cause him pain."
I promised discretion, and hastened to my own room, with the preciousbundle of Lucy's letters. Shall I own the truth? I kissed the papers,fervently, before they were loosened, and it seemed to me I possessed atreasure, in holding in my hand so many of the dear girl's epistles. Icommenced in the order of the date, and began to read with eagerness.It was impossible for Lucy Hardinge to write to one she loved, and notexhibit the truth and nature of her feelings. These appeared in everyparagraph in which it was proper to make an
y allusions of the sort.But the letters had other charms. It was apparent, throughout, that thewriter was ignorant that she wrote to an invalid, though she could notbut know that she wrote to a recluse. Her aim evidently was to amuseGrace, of whose mental sufferings she could not well be ignorant. Lucywas a keen observer, and her epistles were filled with amusing commentson the follies that were daily committed in New York, as well as inParis, or London. I was delighted with the delicate pungency of hersatire, which, however, was totally removed from vulgar scandal. Therewas nothing in these letters that might not have been uttered in adrawing-room, to any but the persons concerned; and yet they were filledwith a humour that rose often to wit, relieved by a tact and taste thata man never could have attained. Throughout, it was apparent to me,Lucy, in order to amuse Grace, was giving a full scope to a naturaltalent--one that far surpassed the same capacity in her brother, beingas true as his was meritricious and jesuitical--which she had hithertoconcealed from us all, merely because she had not seen an occasion fitfor its use. Allusions in the letters, themselves, proved that Gracehad commented on this unexpected display of observant humour, and hadexpressed her surprise at its existence. It was then as novel to mysister as it was to myself. I was struck also with the fact, thatRupert's name did not appear once in all these letters. They embracedjust twenty-seven weeks, between the earliest and the latest date; andthere were nine-and-twenty letters, two having been sent by privateconveyances; her father's, most probably, he occasionally making thejourney by land; yet no one of them contained the slightest allusion toher brother, or to either of the Mertons. This was enough to let me knowhow well Lucy understood the reason of Grace's withdrawal to Clawbonny.
"And how was it with Miles Wallingford's name?" some of my fair readersmay be ready to ask. I went carefully through the package in the courseof the evening, and I set aside two, as the only exceptions in which myname did not appear. On examining these two with jealous care, I foundeach had a postscript, one of which was to the following effect: "I seeby the papers that Miles has sailed for Malta having at last left thosestubborn Turks. I am glad of this, as one would not wish to have theexcellent fellow shut up in the Seven Towers, however honourable it mayhave been." The other postscript contained this: "Dear Miles has got toLeghorn, my father tells me, and may be expected home this summer.How great happiness this will bring you, dearest Grace, I can wellunderstand; and I need scarcely say that no one will rejoice more to seehim again than his late guardian and myself."
That the papers were often looked over to catch reports of my movementsin Europe, by means of ships arriving from different parts of the world,was apparent enough; but I scarce knew what to make of the natural andsimply affectionate manner in which my name was introduced. It mightproceed from a wish to gratify Grace, and a desire to let the sisterknow all that she herself possessed touching the brother's movements.Then Andrew Drewett's name occurred very frequently, though it wasgenerally in connection with that of his mother, who had evidentlyconstituted herself a sort of regular _chaperone_ for Lucy, moreespecially during the time she was kept out of the gay world by hermourning. I read several of these passages with the most scrupulousattention, in order to detect the feeling with which they had beenwritten; but the most practised art could not have more successfullyconcealed any secret of this sort, than Lucy's nature. This often provesto be the case; the just-minded and true among men daily becoming theprofoundest mysteries to a vicious, cunning, deceptive and selfishworld. An honest man, indeed, is ever a parodox to all but those who seethings with his own eyes. This is the reason that improper motives areso often imputed to the simplest and seemingly most honest deeds.
The result was, to write, entreating Lucy to come to Clawbonny; firsttaking care to secure her father's assent, to aid my request. This wasdone in a way not to awaken any alarm, and yet with sufficient strengthto render it tolerably certain she would come. On deliberate reflection,and after seeing my sister at table, where she ate nothing but a lightvegetable diet, and passing the evening with her, I thought I could notdo less in justice to the invalid or her friend. I took the course withgreat regret on several accounts; and, among others, from a reluctanceto appear to draw Lucy away from the society of my rival, into my own.Yet what right had I to call myself the rival or competitor of a manwho had openly professed an attachment, where I had never breathed asyllable myself that might not readily be mistaken for the language ofthat friendship, which time, and habit, and a respect for each other'squalities, so easily awaken among the young of different sexes? I hadbeen educated almost as Lucy's brother; and why should she not feeltowards me as one?
Neb went out in the boat as soon as he got his orders and theWallingford sailed again in ballast that very night. She did not remainat the wharf an hour after her wheat was out. I felt easier when theseduties were discharged, and was better prepared to pass the night inpeace. Grace's manner and appearance, too, contributed to this calm;for she seemed to revive, and to experience some degree of earthlyhappiness, in having her brother near her. When Mr. Hardinge readprayers that night, she came to the chair where I stood, took my handin hers, and knelt at my side. I was touched to tears by this act ofaffection, which spoke as much of the tenderness of the sainted anddeparted spirit, lingering around those it had loved on earth, as of theaffection of the world. I folded the dear girl to my bosom, as I lefther at the door of her own room that night, and went to my own pillow,with a heavy heart. Seamen pray little; less than they ought, amid therude scenes of their hazardous lives. Still, I had not quite forgottenthe lessons of childhood, and sometimes practised on them. That night Iprayed fervently, beseeching God to spare my sister, if in his wisdom itwere meet; and I humbly invoked his blessings on the excellent divine,and on Lucy, by name. I am not ashamed to own it, let who may deride theact.
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