Afloat and Ashore (67 page)

I felt a torrent of fire rushing through my blood, and it was with
difficulty I refrained from hurling the heartless scoundrel who leaned
on my arm, into the ditch. A moment of reflection, however, warned me
of the precipice on which I stood. He was Mr. Hardinge's son, Lucy's
brother; and I had no proofs that he had ever induced Grace to think
he loved her. It was so easy for those who had been educated as we
four had been, to be deceived on such a point, that I felt it unsafe
to do anything precipitately. Friendship,
habit
, as Rupert
expressed it, might so easily be mistaken for the fruits of passion,
that one might well be deceived. Then it was all-important to Grace's
self-respect, to her feelings, in some measure to her character, to be
careful, that I suppressed my wrath, though it nearly choked me.

"I am sorry to hear this," I answered, after a long pause, the deep
regret I felt at having such an account of my sister's health
contributing to make my manner seem natural; "very,
very
sorry
to hear it. Grace is one that requires the tenderest care and
watching; and I have been making passage after passage in pursuit of
money, when I am afraid I should have been at Clawbonny, discharging
the duties of a brother. I can never forgive myself!"

"Money is a very good thing, Captain," answered Rupert, with a smile
that appeared to mean more than the tongue expressed—"a surprisingly
good thing is money! But you must not exaggerate Grace's illness,
which I dare say is merely constitutional, and will lead to nothing. I
hope your many voyages have produced their fruits?"

"And Lucy?" I resumed, disregarding his question concerning my own
success as an owner. "Where and how is she?"

"Miss Hardinge is in town—in her own—that is, in
our
house—in Wall Street, though she goes to
the place
in the
morning. No one who can, likes to remain among these hot bricks, that
has a pleasant country-house to fly to, and open to receive him. But I
forgot—I have supposed you to know what it is very likely you have
never heard?"

"I learned the death of Mrs. Bradfort while in Italy, and, seeing you
in black, at once supposed it was for her."

"Yes, that's just it. An excellent woman has been taken from us, and,
had she been my own mother, I could not have received greater
kindnesses from her. Her end, my dear Wallingford, was admitted by all
the clergy to be one of the most edifying known in the place for
years."

"And Mrs. Bradfort has left you her heir? It is now time to
congratulate you on your good fortune. As I un-understand her estate
came through females to her, and from a common ancestor of hers and
yours, there is not the slightest reason why you should not be
gratified by the bequest. But Lucy—I hope she was not
altogether
forgotten?"

Rupert fidgeted, and I could see that he was on tenter-hooks. As I
afterwards discovered, he wished to conceal the real facts from the
world; and yet he could not but foresee that I would probably learn
them from his father. Under all the circumstances, therefore, he
fancied it best to make me a confidant. We were strolling between
Trinity and Paul's church walks, then the most fashionable promenade
in town; and, before he would lay open his secret, my companion led me
over by the Oswego Market, and down Maiden Lane, lest he might betray
himself to the more fashionable stocks and stones. He did not open his
lips until clear of the market, when he laid bare his budget of griefs
in something that more resembled his old confidential manner, than he
had seen fit to exhibit in the earlier part of our interview.

"You must know, Miles," he commenced, "that Mrs. Bradfort was a very
peculiar woman—a very peculiar sort of a person, indeed. An,
excellent lady, I am ready to allow, and one that made a remarkably
edifying and; but one whose peculiarities, I have understood, she
inherited with her fortune. Women
do
get the oddest conceits
into their heads, you know, and American women before all others; a
republic being anything but favourable to the continuation of property
in the same line. Miss Merton, who is a girl of excellent sense, as
you well know yourself, Miles, says, now, in England I should have
succeeded, quite as a matter of course, to
all
Mrs. Bradfort's
real estate."

"You, as a lawyer—a common law lawyer-can scarcely require the
opinion of an Englishwoman to tell you what the English laws would do
in a question of descent."

"Oh! they've a plaguey sight of statutes in that country, as well as
ourselves. Between the two, the common law is getting to be a very
uncommon sort of a law. But, to cut the matter short, Mrs. Bradfort
made a
will
."

"Dividing her property equally between you and Lucy, I dare say, to
Miss Merton's great dissatisfaction."

"Why, not just so, Miles—not exactly so; a very capricious, peculiar
woman was Mrs. Bradfort—"

I have often remarked, when a person has succeeded in throwing dust
into another's eyes, but is discarded on being found out, that the
rejected of principle is very apt to accuse his former dupe of being
capricious
; when, in fact, he has only been
deceived
. As
I said nothing, however, leaving Rupert to flounder on in the best
manner he could, the latter, after a pause, proceeded—

"But her end was very admirable" he said, "and to the last degree
edifying. You must know, she made a will, and in that will she left
everything, even to the town and country houses, to—my sister."

I was thunder-struck! Here were all my hopes blown again to the
winds. After a long pause, I resumed the discourse.

"And whom did she leave as executor?" I asked, instantly foreseeing
the consequences should that office be devolved on Rupert, himself.

"My father. The old gentleman has had his hands full, between your
father and mother, and Mrs. Bradfort. Fortunately, the estate of the
last is in a good condition, and is easily managed. Almost entirely in
stores and houses in the best part of the town, well insured, a few
thousands in stocks, and as much in bonds and mortgages, the savings
from the income, and something like a year's rents in bank. A good
seven thousand a year, with enough surplus to pay for repairs,
collection and other charges."

"And all this, then, is Lucy's!" I exclaimed, feeling something like
the bitterness of knowing that such an heiress was not for me.

"Temporarily; though, of course, I consider Lucy as only my trustee
for half of it. You know how it is with the women; they fancy all us
young men spendthrifts, and, so, between the two, they have reasoned
in this way—'Rupert is a good fellow at bottom; but Rupert is young,
and he will make the money fly—now, I'll give it all to you, Lucy, in
my will, but, of course, you'll take care of your brother, and let him
have half, or perhaps two-thirds, being a male, at the proper time,
which will be, as soon as you come of age, and
can
convey. You
understand Lucy is but nineteen, and
cannot
convey these two
years."

"And Lucy admits this to be true?—You have proof of all this?"

"Proof! I'd take my own affidavit of it. You see it is reasonable, and
what I had a right to expect. Everything tends to confirm it. Between
ourselves, I had quite $2000 of debt; and yet, you see, the good lady
did not leave me a dollar to pay even my honest creditors; a
circumstance that so pious a woman, and one who made so edifying an
end, would never think of doing, without ulterior views. Considering
Lucy as my trustee, explains the whole thing."

"I thought Mrs. Bradfort made you an allowance, Rupert; some $600 a
year, besides keeping you in her own house?"

"A thousand-but, what is $1000 a year to a fashionable man, in a town
like this. First and last, the excellent old lady, gave me about
$5000, all of which confirms the idea, that, at the bottom, she
intended me for her heir. What woman in her senses, would think of
giving $5000 to a relative to whom she did not contemplate giving
more
? The thing is clear on its face, and I should certainly
go into chancery, with anybody but Lucy."

"And Lucy?—what says she to your views on the subject of
Mrs. Bradfort's intentions?"

"Why, you have some acquaintance with Lucy—used to be intimate with
her, as one might say, when children, and know something of her
character—"This to me, who fairly worshipped the earth on which the
dear girl trod!—"She never indulges in professions, and likes to
take people by surprise, when she contemplates doing them a service—"
this was just as far from Lucy's natural and honest mode of dealing,
as it was possible to be—"and, so, she has been as mum as one who
has lost the faculty of speech. However, she never speaks of her
affairs to others;
that
is a good sign, and indicates an
intention to consider herself as my trustee; and, what is better
still, and more plainly denotes what her conscience dictates in the
premises, she has empowered her father to pay all my debts; the
current income and loose cash, being at her disposal, at once. It
would have been better had she given me the money, to satisfy these
creditors with it, for I knew which had waited the longest, and were
best entitled to receive the dollars at once; but, it's something to
have all their receipts in my pocket, and to start fair again. Thank
Heaven, that much is already done. To do Lucy justice, moreover, she
allows me $1500 a year,
ad interim
. Now, Miles, I've conversed
with you, as with an old friend, and because I knew my father would
tell you the whole, when you get up to Clawbonny; but you will take it
all in strict confidence. It gives a fashionable young fellow so silly
an air, to be thought dependent on a sister; and she three years
younger than himself! So I have hinted the actual state of the case,
round among my friends; but, it is generally believed that I am in
possession already, and that Lucy is dependent on me, instead of my
being dependent on her. The idea, moreover, is capital for keeping off
fortune-hunters, as you will see at a glance."

"And will the report satisfy a certain Mr. Andrew Drewett?" I asked,
struggling to assume a composure I was far from feeling. "He was all
attention when I sailed, and I almost expected to hear there was no
longer a Lucy Hardinge."

"To tell you the truth, Miles, I thought so, too, until the death of
Mrs. Bradfort. The mourning, however, most opportunely came to put a
stop to anything of the sort, were it even contemplated. It would be
so awkward, you will understand, to have a brother-in-law before
everything is settled, and the trust is accounted for.
Au
reste
—I am very well satisfied with Andrew, and let him know I am
his friend; he is well connected; fashionable; has a pretty little
fortune; and, as I sometimes tell Lucy, that he is intended for her,
as Mrs. Bradfort, no doubt, foresaw, inasmuch as his estate, added to
just one-third of that of our dear departed cousin, would just make up
the present income. On my honour, now, I do not think the difference
would be $500 per annum."

"And how does your sister receive your hints?"

"Oh! famously—just as all girls do, you know. She blushes, and
sometimes she looks vexed; then she smiles, and puts up her lip, and
says 'Nonsense!' and 'What folly!' 'Rupert, I'm surprised at you!'
and all that sort of stuff, which deceives nobody, you'll understand,
not even her poor, simple, silly brother. But, Miles, I must quit you
now, for I have an engagement to accompany a party to the theatre, and
was on my way to join them when we met. Cooper plays, and you know
what a lion
he
is; one would not wish to lose a syllable of his
Othello."

"Stop, Rupert—one word more before we part. From your conversation, I
gather that the Mertons are still here?"

"The Mertons! Why, certainly; established in the land, and among its
tip-top people. The Colonel finds his health benefited by the climate,
and he has managed to get some appointment which keeps him among
us. He has Boston relatives, moreover, and I believe is fishing up
some claims to property in that quarter. The Mertons here, indeed!
what would New York be without the Mertons!"

"And my old friend the Major is promoted, too—you called him Colonel,
I think?"

"Did I? I believe he is oftener called
General
Merton, than
anything else. You must be mistaken about his being only a Major,
Miles; everybody here calls him either Colonel, or General."

"Never mind; I hope it is as you say. Good-bye, Rupert; I'll not
betray you, and—"

"Well-you were about to say—"

"Why, mention me to Lucy; you know we were acquainted when
children. Tell her I wish her all happiness in her new position, to
which I do not doubt she will do full credit; and that I shall
endeavour to see her before I sail again."

"You'll not be at the theatre this evening? Cooper is well worth
seeing—a most famous fellow in Othello!"

"I think not. Do not forget to mention me to your sister; and so, once
more, adieu!"

We parted—Rupert to go towards Broadway, at a great pace, and I to
lounge along, uncertain whither to proceed. I had sent Neb to inquire
if the Wallingford were down, and understood she would leave the basin
at sunrise. It was now my intention to go up in her; for, though I
attached no great importance to any of Rupert's facts, his report
concerning my sister's health rendered me exceedingly uneasy.
Insensibly I continued my course down Maiden Lane, and soon found
myself near the ship. I went on board, had an explanation with Marble,
gave some orders to Neb, and went ashore again, all in the course of
the next half-hour. By a sort of secret attraction, I was led towards
the Park, and soon found myself at the door of the theatre. Mrs.
Bradfort had now been dead long enough to put Lucy in second mourning,
and I fancied I might get a view of her in the party that Rupert was
to accompany. Buying a ticket, I entered and made my way up into the
Shakspeare box. Had I been better acquainted with the place, with the
object in view I should have gone into the pit.