Afloat and Ashore (69 page)

"By the way, Major Merton," I cried, as the tale was closed, "an old
friend of yours, Moses Marble by name, has come to life again, and is
at this moment in New York."

I then related the manner in which I had fallen in with my old
mate. This was a most unfortunate self-interruption for me, giving the
Major a fair opportunity for cutting into the conversation. The
orchestra, moreover, giving notice that the curtain would soon rise
for the after-piece, the old gentleman soon got me into the lobby to
hear the particulars. I was supremely vexed, and I thought Lucy
appeared sorry; but there was no help for it, and then we could not
converse while the piece was going on.

"I suppose you care little for this silly farce," observed the Major,
looking in at one of the windows, after I had gone over Marble's
affair in detail. "If not, we will continue our walk, and wait for the
ladies to come out. Drewett and Hardinge will take good care of them."

I assented, and we continued to walk the lobby till the end of the
act. Major Merton was always gentleman-like; and he even behaved to
me, as if he remembered the many obligations he was under. He now
communicated several little facts connected with his own
circumstances, alluding to the probability of his remaining in America
a few years. Our chat continued some time, my looks frequently
turning towards the door of the box, when my companion suddenly
observed—

"Your old acquaintances the Hardinges have had a lucky wind-fall—one,
I fancy, they hardly expected, a few years Since."

"Probably not; though the estate has fallen into excellent hands," I
answered. "I am surprised, however, that Mrs. Bradfort did not leave
the property to the old gentleman, as it once belonged to their common
grandfather, and he properly stood next in succession."

"I fancy she thought the good parson would not know what to do with
it. Now, Rupert Hardinge is clever, and spirited, and in a way to make
a figure in the world; and it is probably in better hands, than if it
had been left first to the old gentleman."

"The old gentleman has been a faithful steward to me, and I doubt not
would have proved equally so to his own children. But, does Rupert get
all
Mrs. Bradfort's property?"

"I believe not; there is some sort of a trust, I have heard him say;
and I rather fancy that his sister has some direct or reversionary
interest. Perhaps she is named as the heir, if he die without
issue. There
was
a silly story, that Mrs. Bradfort had left
everything to Lucy; but I have, it from the best authority, that
that
is not true—" The idea of Rupert Hardinge's being the
"best authority" for any thing; a fellow who never knew what
unadulterated truth was, from the time he was in petticoats, or could
talk!—"As I
know
there is a trust, though one of no great
moment; I presume Lucy has some contingent interest, subject, most
probably, to her marrying with her brother's approbation, or some such
provision. The old lady was sagacious, and no doubt did all that was
necessary."

It is wonderful how people daily deceive themselves on the subject of
property; those who care the most about it, appearing to make the
greatest blunders. In the way of bequests, in particular, the lies
that are told are marvellous. It is now many years since I learned to
take no heed of rumours on such subjects, and least of all, rumours
that come from the class of the money-gripers. Such people refer
everything to dollars, and seldom converse a minute without using the
word. Here, however, was Major Merton evidently Rupert's dupe; though
with what probable consequences, it was not in my power to foresee. It
was clearly not my business to undeceive him; and the conversation,
getting to be embarrassing, I was not sorry to hear the movement which
announced the end of the act. At the box door, to my great regret, we
met Mrs. Drewett retiring, the ladies finding the farce dull, and not
worth the time lost in listening to it. Rupert gave me an uneasy
glance, and he even dragged me aside to whisper—"Miles, what I told
you this evening, is strictly a family secret, and was entrusted to a
friend."

"I have nothing to do with your private concerns, Rupert—" I
answered,—"only, let me expect you to act honourably, especially when
women are concerned."

"Everything will come right, depend on it; the truth will set
everything right, and all will come out, just as I predicted."

I saw Lucy looking anxiously around, while Drewett had gone to order
the carriages to advance, and I hoped it might be for me. In a moment
I was by her side; at the next, Mr. Andrew Drewett offered his arm,
saying, her carriage "stopped the way." We moved into the outer lobby,
in a body, and then it was found that Mrs. Drewett's carriage was up
first, while Lucy's was in the rear. Yes, Lucy's carriage!—the dear
girl having come into immediate possession of her relative's houses,
furniture, horses, carriages, and everything else, without reserve,
just as they had been left behind by the last incumbent, when she
departed from the scene of life, to lie down in the grave. Mrs.
Bradfort's arms were still on the chariot, I observed, its owner
refusing all Rupert's solicitations to supplant them by those of
Hardinge. The latter took his revenge, however, by telling everybody
how generous he was in keeping a carriage for his sister.

The Major handed Mrs. Drewett in, and her son was compelled to say
good night, to see his mother home. This gave me one blessed minute
with Lucy, by herself. She spoke of Grace; said they had now been
separated months, longer than they ever had been before in their
lives, and that all her own persuasions could not induce my sister to
rejoin her in town, while her own wish to visit Clawbonny had been
constantly disappointed, Rupert insisting that her presence was
necessary, for so many arrangements about business.

"Grace is not as humble as I was, in old times, Miles," said the dear
girl, looking me in the face, half sadly, half reproachfully, the
light of the lamp falling full on her tearful, tender eyes, "and I
hope you are not about to imitate her bad example. She wishes us to
know she has Clawbonny for a home, but I never hesitated to admit how
poor we were, while you alone were rich."

"God bless you, Lucy!" I whispered, squeezing her hand with
fervour—"It cannot be
that
—have you heard anything of Grace's
health?"

"Oh! she is well, I know—Rupert tells me
that
, and her letters
are cheerful and kind as ever, without a word of complaint. But I
must
see her soon. Grace Wallingford and Lucy Hardinge were not
born to live asunder. Here is the carriage; I shall see you in the
morning, Miles—at breakfast, say—eight o'clock, precisely."

"It will be impossible—I sail for Clawbonny with the first of the
flood, and that will make at four. I shall sleep in the sloop."

Major Merton put Lucy into the carriage; the good-nights were passed,
and I was left standing on the lowest step of the building gazing
after the carriage, Rupert walking swiftly away.

"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
attendance with 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 get under-way at once, instead of waiting for the flood. When I
left the deck, the sloop was above the State Prison, a point towards
which the town itself had made considerable progress since the time I
first introduced it to the reader. Notwithstanding this early start,
we did not 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,
and I began to ascend the hill. From the summit of the latter I saw my
late guardian hurrying along the road, it afterwards appearing that a
stray paper from town had announced the arrival of the Dawn, and that
I was expected 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
guileless old man murmuring his blessings on me, and a prayer of
thankfulness. Nothing ever changed good Mr. Hardinge, who, now that he
could command the whole income of his daughter, was just as well
satisfied to live on the three or four hundreds he got from his glebe
and his parish, as he ever had been in his life.

"Welcome back, my dear boy, welcome back!" added Mr. Hardinge, his
voice and manner still retaining their fervour. "I said you
must
—you
would
be on board, as soon as they reported
the sloop in sight, for I judged your heart by my own. Ah! Miles, will
the time ever come when Clawbonny will be good enough for you? You
have already as much money as you can want, and more will scarce
contribute to your happiness."

"Speaking of money, my dear sir," I answered, "while I have to regret
the loss of your respectable kinswoman, I may be permitted to
congratulate you on the accession to an old family property—I
understand you inherit, in your family, all of Mrs. Bradfort's
estate-one valuable in amount, and highly acceptable, no doubt, as
having belonged to your ancestors."

"No doubt—no doubt—it is just as you say; and I hope these
unexpected riches will leave us all as devout servants of God, as I
humbly trust they found us. The property, however, is not mine, but
Lucy's; I need not have any reserve with you, though Rupert has hinted
it might be prudent not to let the precise state of the case be known,
since it might bring a swarm of interested fortune-hunters about the
dear girl, and has proposed that we rather favour the notion the
estate is to be divided among us. This I cannot do directly, you will
perceive, as it would be deception; but one may be silent. With you,
however, it is a different matter, and so I tell you the truth at
once. I am made executor, and act, of course; and this makes me the
more glad to see you, for I find so much business with pounds,
shillings and pence draws my mind off from the duties of my holy
office, and that I am in danger of becoming selfish and mercenary. A
selfish priest, Miles, is as odious a 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
joy instantly deserted it, and it wore an air of uncertainty and
sadness. A less observant man than the good divine, in all the
ordinary concerns of life, did not exist; but it was apparent that he
now saw something to trouble him.

"Yes, Grace," he answered, doubtingly; "the dear girl is here, and all
alone, and not as blithe and amusing as formerly. I am glad of your
return on her account, too, Miles. She is not well, I fear; I would
have sent for a physician last week, or the moment I saw her; but she
insists on it, there is no need of one. She is frightfully beautiful,
Miles! You know how it is with Grace—her countenance always seemed
more fitted for heaven than earth; and now it always reminds me of a
seraph's that was grieving over the sins of men!"

"I fear, sir, that Rupert's account, then, is true, and that Grace is
seriously ill?"

"I hope not, boy—I fervently pray not! She is not as
usual—
that
is true; but her mind, her thoughts, all her
inclinations, and, if I may so express it, her energies, seem turned
to heaven. There has been an awakening in the spirit of Grace, that is
truly wonderful. She reads devout books, meditates, and, I make no
doubt, prays, from morn till night. This is the secret of her
withdrawal from the world, and her refusing of all Lucy's
invitations. You know how the girls love each other—but Grace
declines going to Lucy, though she knows that Lucy cannot come to
her."

I now understood it all. A weight like that of a mountain fell upon my
heart, and I walked on some distance without speaking. To me, the
words of my excellent guardian sounded like the knell of a sister I
almost worshipped.

"And Grace—does she expect me, now?" I at length ventured to say,
though the words were uttered in tones so tremulous, that even the
usually unobservant divine perceived the change.

"She does, and delighted she was to hear it. The only thing of a
worldly nature that I have heard her express of late, was some
anxious, sisterly wish 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 far
otherwise!

"I see you are disturbed, my dear boy, on account of what I have
said," resumed Mr. Hardinge; "probably from serious apprehensions
about your sister's health. She is not well, I allow; but it is the
effect of mental ailments. The precious creature has had too vivid
views of her own sinful nature, and has suffered deeply, I fear. I
trust, my conversation and prayers have not been without their effect,
through the divine aid, and that she is now more cheerful—nay, she
has assured me within half an hour, if it turned out that you were in
the sloop, she should 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 was glad to turn the conversation to other subjects, lest I
should become unmanned, and sit down to weep in the middle of the
road.

"Does Lucy intend to visit Clawbonny, this summer?" I asked, though
it seemed strange to me to suppose that the farm was not actually
Lucy's home. I am afraid I felt a jealous dislike to the idea that the
dear creature should have houses and lands of her own; or any that was
not to be derived through me.