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

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.

Notwithstanding the lateness of the season, it was a very full house. Cooper's, in that day, was a name that filled every mouth, and he seldom failed to fill every theatre in which he appeared. With many first-rate qualifications for his art, and a very respectable conception of his characters, he threw everything like competition behind him; though there were a few, as there ever will be among the superlatively intellectual, who affected to see excellencies in Fennel, and others, to which this great actor could not aspire. The public decided against these select few, and, as is invariably the case when the appeal is made to human feelings, the public decided right. Puffery will force into notice and sustain a false judgment, in such matters, for a brief space; but nature soon asserts her sway, and it is by natural decisions that such points are ever the most justly determined. Whatever appeals to human sympathies, will be answered by human sympathies. Popularity too often gains its ascendency behind the hypocrite's mask in religion; it is usually a magnificent mystification in politics; it frequently becomes the patriot's stalking-horse, on which he rides to power; in social life, it is the reward of empty smiles, unmeaning bows, and hollow squeezes of the hand; but with the player, the poet, and all whose pursuits bring them directly in contact with the passions, the imagination and the heart, it is the unerring test of merit, with certain qualifications connected with the mind and the higher finish of pure art. It may be questioned if Cooper were not the greatest actor of his day, in a certain range of his own characters.

I have said that the house was full. I got a good place, however; though it was not in the front row. Of course I could only see the side boxes beneath, and not even quite all of them. My eyes ran eagerly over them, and I soon caught a glimpse of the fine, curling hair of Rupert. He sat by the side of Emily Merton, the Major--I knew he was a colonel or general, only by means of a regular Manhattan promotion, which is so apt to make hundreds of counts, copper captains, and travelling prodigies of those who are very small folk at home--the Major sat next, and, at his side, I saw a lady, whom I at once supposed to be Lucy. Every nerve in my system thrilled, as I caught even this indistinct view of the dear creature. I could just see the upper part of her face, as it was occasionally turned towards the Major; and once I caught that honest smile of hers, which I knew had never intentionally deceived.

The front seat of the box had two vacant places. The bench would hold six, while it had yet only four. The audience, however, was still assembling, and, presently, a stir in Lucy's box denoted the arrival of company. The whole party moved, and Andrew Drewett handed an elderly lady in, his mother, as I afterwards ascertained, and took the other place himself. I watched the salutations that were exchanged, and understood that the new comers had been expected. The places had been reserved for them, and old Mrs. Drewett was doubtless the chaperone; though, one having a brother and the other a father with her, the two young ladies had not hesitated about preceding the elderly lady. They had come from different quarters of the town, and had agreed to meet at