Afloat and Ashore, James Fenimore Cooper [romantic story to read TXT] 📗

in Hyde Park, London; almost in the canal, for that matter."


"I think it a little odd that Miles never told us all about this, in his letters, at the time, Lucy. When young gentlemen drag young ladies out of canals, their friends at home have a right to know something of the matter."

How much unnecessary misery is inflicted by unmeaning expressions like this. Grace spoke lightly, and probably without a second thought about the matter; but the little she said, not only made me thoughtful and uneasy, but it drove everything like a smile from the usually radiant countenance of her friend. The conversation dragged; and soon after, we returned together to the house.

I was much occupied that morning, in riding about the place with Mr. Hardinge, and in listening to his account of his stewardship, With the main results I was already acquainted--nay, possessed them in the Dawn,--but the details had all to be gone over, with the most minute accuracy. A more simple-minded being there was not on earth than Mr. Hardinge; and, that my affairs turned out so well was the result of the prosperous condition of the country at that day, the system my father had adopted in his life-time, and the good qualities of the different agents he had chosen, every one of whom remained in the situation in which he was at the sad moment of the fatal accident at the mill. Had matters really depended on the knowledge and management of the most excellent divine, they would soon have been at sixes and sevens.

"I am no believer in miracles, my dear Miles," observed my guardian, with amusing self-complacency; "but I do think a change has been wrought in me, to meet the emergencies of a situation, in which the interests of two orphans have been so suddenly intrusted to my guidance and care. God be thanked! everything prospers; your affairs, as well as those of my dear Grace. It is wonderful, boy, how a man of my habits has been directed in his purchases of wheat, for instance; I, who never bought a bushel until the whole responsibility of your mills fell upon my shoulders I take no credit to myself for it--no credit to myself!"

"I hope the miller has not been backward, my dear sir, in giving you all the assistance in his power."

"Morgan?--yes; he is always ready, and you know I never forget to send him into the market to both buy and sell. Really, his advice has been so excellent, that to me it has the appearance of being almost miraculous--prophetic, I should say, were it not improper. We should avoid all exaggeration in our gratitude, boy."

"Very truly, sir. And in what manner have you managed to get along so well with the crops, on the place, itself?"

"Favoured by the same great adviser, Miles. It is really wonderful, the crops we have had; and the judgment that has been so providentially shown in the management of the fields, as well as of the mills!"

"Of course, sir, old Hiram (Neb's uncle) has always been ready to give you his aid?--Hiram has a great deal of judgment, in his way."

"No doubt--no doubt--Hiram and I have done it all, led by a Providential counsel. Well, my boy, you ought to be satisfied with your earthly lot; for every thing seems to prosper that belongs to you. Of course, you will marry, one of these days, and transmit this place to your son, as it has been received from your fathers?"

"I keep that hope in perspective, sir; or, as we sailors say, for a sheet-anchor."

"Your hope of salvation, boy, is your sheet-anchor, I trust. Nevertheless, we are not to be too hard on young men, and must let them have a little romance in their compositions. Yes, yes; I trust you will not become so much wedded to your ship, as not to think of taking a wife, one of these days. It will be a happy hour to me, when I can see another Mrs. Miles Wallingford at Clawbonny. She will be the third; for I can remember your grandmother."

"Can you recommend to me a proper person to fill that honourable station, sir?" said I, smiling to myself, and exceedingly curious to hear the answer.

"What do you think of this Miss Merton, boy? She is handsome, and that pleases young men; clever, and that pleases old ones; well-educated, and that will last, when the beauty is gone; and, so far as I can judge, amiable; and that is as necessary to a wife, as fidelity. Marry no woman, Miles, that is not amiable! "

"May I ask what you call amiable, sir?--And, when that question is answered, I may venture to go so far as to inquire whom you call amiable?"

"Very sensible distinctions, and such as are entitled to fair answers; at least the first. I do not call levity, amiability; nor mere constitutional gaiety. Some of the seemingly most light-hearted women I have ever known, have been anything but amiable. There must be an unusual absence of selfishness,--a person must live less for herself, than others--or rather, must find her own happiness in the happiness of those she loves, to make a truly amiable woman. Heart and principle are at the bottom of what is truly amiable; though temperament and disposition undoubtedly contribute. As for the whom, your own sister Grace is a truly amiable young woman. I never knew her do anything to hurt another's feelings in my life."

"I suppose you will admit, sir, I cannot very well marry Grace?"

"I wish you could, with all my heart--yes, with all my heart! Were not you and Grace brother and sister, I should consider myself well quit of the responsibility of my guardianship, in seeing you man and wife."

"As that is out of the question, I am not without hopes you can mention another who will do just as well, so far as I am concerned."

"Well, there is this Miss Merton--though I do not know her well enough to venture absolutely on a recommendation. Now, I told Lucy, no later than yesterday, while we were on the river, and as you were pointing out to Miss Merton the forts in the Highlands, that I thought you would make one of the handsomest couples in the state--and, moreover, I told her--bless me, how this corn grows! The plants will be in tassel in a few days, and the crop must turn out most beneficent--truly, truly--there is a providence in all things; for, at first, I was for putting the corn on yonder hill-side, and the potatoes here; but old Hiram was led by some invisible agency to insist on this field for the corn, and the hill-side for the potatoes--and, now, look, and see what crops are in promise! Think of a nigger's blundering on such a thing?"

In 1802, even well-educated and well-intentioned clergymen had no scruples in saying "nigger."

"But, sir, you have quite forgotten to add what else you told Lucy?"

"True--true--it is very natural that you should prefer hearing me talk about Miss Merton, to hearing me talk about potatoes--I'll tell that to Lucy, too, you may depend on it."

"I sincerely hope you will do no such thing, my dear sir," I cried, in no little alarm.

"Ah! that betrays guilt--consciousness, I should say; for what guilt can there be in a virtuous love?--and rely on it, both the girls shall know all about it. Lucy and I often talk over your matters, Miles; for she loves you as well as your own sister. Ah! my fine fellow, you blush at it, like a girl of sixteen! But, there is nothing to be ashamed of, and there is no occasion for blushes."

"Well, sir, letting my blushes--the blushes of a shipmaster!--but setting aside my blushes, for mercy's sake what more did you tell Lucy?"

"What more? Why I told her how you had been on a desert island, quite alone as one might say, with Miss Merton, and how you had been at sea, living in the same cabin as it were, for nine months; and it would be wonderful--wonderful, indeed, if two so handsome young persons should not feel an attachment for each other. Country might make some difference, to be sure--"

"And station, sir?--What do you think would be the influence of the difference of station, also?"

"Station!--Bless me, Miles; what difference in station is there between you and Miss Merton; that it should cause any obstacle to your union?"

"You know what it is, sir, as well as I do myself. She is the daughter of an officer in the British army, and I am the master of a ship. You will admit, I presume, Mr. Hardinge, that there is such, a thing as a difference in station?"

"Beyond all question. It is exceedingly useful to remember it; and I greatly fear the loose appointments of magistrates and other functionaries, that are making round the country, will bring all our notions on such subjects into great confusion. I can understand that one man is as good as another in rights , Miles; but I cannot understand he is any better , because he happens to be uneducated, ignorant, or a blackguard."

Mr. Hardinge was a sensible man in all such distinctions, though so simple in connection with other matters.

"You can have no difficulty, however, in understanding that, in New York, for instance, I should not be considered the equal of Major Merton--I mean socially, altogether, and not in personal merit, or the claims which years give--and of course, not the equal of his daughter?"

"Why--yes--I know what you mean, now. There may be some little inequality in that sense, perhaps; but Clawbonny, and the ship, and the money at use, would be very apt to strike a balance."

"I am afraid not, sir. I should have studied law, sir, had I wished to make myself a gentleman."

"There are lots of vulgar fellows getting into the law, Miles--men who have not half your claims to be considered gentlemen. I hope you do not think I wished you and Rupert to study law in order to make gentlemen of you?"

"No, sir; it was unnecessary to take that step as regards Rupert, who was fully born in the station. Clergymen have a decided position all over the world, I believe; and then you are extremely well connected otherwise, Mr. Hardinge. Rupert has no occasion for such an assistance--with me it was a little different."

"Miles--Miles--this is a strange fancy to come over a young man in your situation--and who, I am afraid, has been the subject of envy, only too often, to Rupert!"

"If the truth were known, Mr. Hardinge, I dare say both Rupert and Lucy, in their secret hearts, think they possess advantages, in the way of social station, that do not belong to Grace and myself."

Mr. Hardinge looked hurt, and I was soon sorry that I had made this speech. Nor would I have the reader imagine that what I had said, proceeded in the least from that narrow selfish feeling, which, under the blustering pretension of equality, presumes to deny the existence of a very potent social fact; but simply from the sensitiveness of feelings, which, on this subject, were somewhat in danger of becoming morbid, through the agency of the most powerful passion of the human heart--or, that which has well been called the master-passion. Nevertheless, Mr. Hardinge was much too honest a