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

compting-house of the consignees, and pursued my way up Wall Street to Broadway. I was on my way to the City Hotel, then, as now, one of the best inns of the town. On Trinity Church walk, just as I quitted the Wall Street crossing, whom should I come plump upon in turning, but Rupert Hardinge? He was walking down the street in some little haste, and was evidently much surprised, perhaps I might say startled, at seeing me. Nevertheless, Rupert was not easily disconcerted, and his manner at once became warm, if not entirely free from embarrassment. He was in deep mourning; though otherwise dressed in the height of the fashion.

"Wallingford!" he exclaimed--it was the first time he did not call me "Miles,"--"Wallingford! my fine fellow, what cloud did you drop from?--We have had so many reports concerning you, that your appearance is as much a matter of surprise, as would be that of Bonaparte, himself. Of course, your ship is in?"

"Of course," I answered, taking his offered hand; "you know I am wedded to her, for better, for worse, until death or shipwreck doth us part."

"Ay, so I've always told the ladies--'there is no other matrimony in Wallingford,' I've said often, 'than that which will make him a ship's husband.' But you look confoundedly well--the sea agrees with you, famously."

"I make no complaint of my health--but tell me of that of our friends and families? Your father--"

"Is up at Clawbonny, just now--you know how it is with him. No change of circumstances will ever make him regard his little smoke-house looking church, as anything but a cathedral, and his parish as a diocese. Since the great change in our circumstances, all this is useless, and I often think --you know one wouldn't like to say as much to him --but I often think , he might just as well give up preaching, altogether."

"Well, this is good, so far--now for the rest of you, all. You meet my impatience too coldly."

"Yes, you were always an impatient fellow. Why, I suppose you need hardly be told that I have been admitted to the bar."

"That I can very well imagine--you must have found your sea-training of great service on the examination."

"Ah! my dear Wallingford--what a simpleton I was! But one is so apt to take up strange conceits in boyhood, that he is compelled to look back at them in wonder, in after life. But, which way are you walking?"--slipping an arm in mine--"if up, I'll take a short turn with you. There's scarce a soul in town, at this season; but you'll see prodigiously fine girls in Broadway, at this hour, notwithstanding --those that belong to the other sets, you know; those that belong to families that can't get into the country among the leaves. Yes, as I was saying, one scarce knows himself, after twenty. Now, I can hardly recall a taste, or an inclination, that I cherished in my teens, that has not flown to the winds. Nothing is permanent in boyhood--we grow in our persons, and our minds, sentiments, affections, views, hopes, wishes, and ambition; all take new directions."

"This is not very flattering, Rupert, to one whose acquaintance with you may be said to be altogether boyish."

"Oh! of course I don't mean that. Habit keeps all right in such matters; and I dare say I shall always be as much attached to you, as I was in childhood. Still, we are on diverging lines, now, and cannot for ever remain boys."

"You have told me nothing of the rest," I said, half choked, in my eagerness to hear of the girls, and yet unaccountably afraid to ask. I believe I dreaded to hear that Lucy was married. "How, and where is Grace?"

"Oh! Grace!--yes, I forgot her, to my shame, as you would naturally wish to inquire. Why, my dear Captain, to be as frank as one ought with so old an acquaintance, your sister is not in a good way, I'm much afraid; though I've not seen her in an age. She was down among us in the autumn, but left town for the holidays, for them she insisted on keeping at Clawbonny, where she said the family had always kept them, and away she went. Since then, she has not returned, but I fear she is far from well. You know what a fragile creature Grace ever has been--so American!--Ah! Wallingford! our females have no constitutions--charming as angels, delicate as fairies, and all that; but not to be compared to the English women in constitutions."

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,