“The wonder, or a woman keeps a secret.”
Isabella moulded and arranged every thing to profit by Sir Henry’s boon. She persuaded her father (one is easily led the way the heart inclines), in consideration of Herbert’s past sufferings and uncertain future, to acquiesce in a present oblivion of his offences. She exacted a promise from Herbert that he would hear her father laud King George, his ministers, and all their acts, without interposing a disqualifying word, or even a glance; and, what was a greater feat for him, that he would sit quietly and hear the names of Washington, Franklin, Jay, Hamilton, La Fayette, all that he most honoured, coupled with the most offensive epithets. This vituperation she knew was a sort of safety-valve, by which her father let off the passion that might otherwise burst on poor Herbert’s head. She felt that no sacrifice short of that of principle was too great to obtain affectionate intercourse between the father and son; that between those thus related, there never could be a “good war, nor a bad peace.”
As Sir Henry had exacted a strict secrecy as to his indulgence, Isabella congratulated herself that she had long before this persuaded her father to dismiss Jupiter (an irreclaimable gossip), on the ground that he was a useless piece of lumber; but really, because Rose had declared that it exceeded the ability of her commissary department to supply his rations. 304Rose herself was worthy of all confidence. Mrs. Archer, of course, was one of the family cabinet.
The awkwardness of the first meeting got over, all difficulties were past. Little differences, if let alone, soon melt away in the warmth of hearty affection. Herbert was obliged sometimes to bite his lips, and at others, when his frank and hasty spirit prompted a retort, a glance from Isabella kept him silent.
It was not till Herbert’s second or third visit that Mr. Linwood manifested the uneasiness incident to persons of his age and habits when put out of their accustomed track. Rivington’s Royal Gazette, issued twice a week, and the only newspaper in the city, was to Mr. Linwood, as newspapers are to most men, one of the necessaries of life. “My dear,” he asked his wife, “where is the paper?”
“I left it below, my dear; there is nothing in it.” Mrs. Linwood had ventured this omission from consideration to Herbert, whose temper she feared might boil over at the hearing of one of those high-toned tory gazettes.
“Pshaw—nothing in it! just so all women say, unless they find some trumpery murder or shipwreck. Belle, be good enough to bring the paper and read it to me; and do ask Rose to bring us in a stick of wood—it is as cold as Greenland here—five pounds I paid Morton yesterday for a cord of hickory. D—n the rebels, I wish I had their bones for firewood.”
“They do their best, sir, to make it hot for the tories,” said Herbert, very good-humouredly.
“Ah, Herbert, my son, I forgot you were here; I did indeed. But I can’t be mealy-mouthed—I must speak out, come what come will. But ’tis hard not to be able to get the wood from our own farms, is it not?”
“Very hard, sir, to be deprived of any of our rights.”
“Rights!” Isabella entered, and Mr. Linwood added in a softened tone, “Have a care, my boy; there are certain words that fall on my ear like sparks on gunpowder.”
305“Here is something to prevent your emitting any more sparks just now, Mr. Herbert,” said Isabella, giving him a Boston paper, while she retained the orthodox journal to read aloud.
“What’s that?—what’s that?” asked her father.
“A Boston paper, sir, sent to you with Colonel Robertson’s compliments.”
Herbert read aloud a few lines written on the margin of the paper, chuckling in spite of his filial efforts to the contrary: “Major-general Putnam presents his compliments to Major-general Robertson, and sends him some American newspapers for his perusal. When General Robertson shall have done with them, it is requested they be given to Rivington, in order that he may print some truth.”
“The impudent renegado! Come, Isabella, what says Rivington to-day?”
Isabella read aloud an order from Sir Henry Clinton, “That all negroes taken fighting in the rebel cause should be sold as slaves: and that all deserting should live at what occupation they pleased within the British lines!”
“Very salutary that!” interposed Mr. Linwood. “Black sons of Belial—they fighting for liberty, d—n ’em!”
Herbert cleared his throat. “My father—my upright father applauding a bounty offered to cowardice and treachery!—Oh the moral perversions engendered by war!” thought Isabella; but she wisely kept her reflections to herself, and, striking another chord, ran over one of Rivington’s advertisements of fancy articles for sale by himself, the sole editor and publisher in the city. Oh, Smetz, Stewart, Gardiner, Tryon, Bailly, ye ministers to the luxury of our city! well may ye exclaim, in your rich repositories of the arts and industry of the old world—
“Great streams from little fountains flow!”
306For the curious in such matters, we permit our heroine to read aloud verbatim: “For sale at this office, scarlet dress-frocks, with silk lining and capes, the work of celebrated operators west of London; the celebrated new-fashioned buckle, which owes its origin and vogue to the Count d’Artois, brother to the King of France; of the locket or depository for preserving the gentle Saccharissa’s hair, a great variety; crow-quills for the delicate Constantia; scarlet riding-dresses for ladies, made to suit the uniform of their husbands or lovers; canes for the gallant gay Lothario; gold and silver strings for plain walking-canes, with silver and gold tassels for plain Master Balance; vastly snug shaving equipages; brocaded shoes and slippers; ladies’ shuttles for the thrifty in the knotting amusements; songs suited to the various humours and affections of the mind.”
“Bravo, friend Rivington!” exclaimed Herbert, “you do not expend all your imagination in the invention of news.”
“Is there nothing but this nonsense in the paper, Belle? What is that in capitals about letters from England?”
Isabella resumed: “Letters from England say they will never acknowledge the Independence of the United States, while there is a soldier to be raised, or a tester to be expended, in the three kingdoms!”
“John Bull for ever! What say you to that, Mr. Herbert?” asked his father, exultingly.
“Nous verrons, sir!—but, mercy upon us! what is this?” Herbert read aloud from the Boston paper: “We regret to state that the daughter of Mrs. Lee, of Westbrook, left her mother’s house two weeks since, with the supposed intention of going to New-York. The young lady has been for some time in a state of partial mental alienation.” A description of Bessie’s person followed, and an earnest request that any information obtained might be transmitted to the unhappy mother.
307Both Herbert and Isabella were filled with consternation and anxiety; and, after revolving the past, both came to the same conclusion as to the probable origin of poor Bessie’s mental malady. Mr. Linwood, who only recollected her as a quiet, pretty little girl, exhausted his sympathy in a few inquiries and exclamations, became somewhat impatient of the sadness that had overclouded his children. “We are as doleful as the tombs here,” he said: “What can keep your aunt Archer tonight, Isabella?—Ah, here she comes—right glad to see you, Mary. Belle and Herbert are knocked up by an unlucky bit of news.” The news was communicated to Mrs. Archer, who entered deeply into their feelings.
“Ah,” said she, “this explains a note I received this morning from Captain Lee.”
“From Eliot?” exclaimed Herbert.
“Yes; he sent by a courier, who came to Sir Henry, a most acceptable present—a set of chessmen for the children, which he has contrived, and, aided by an ingenious private, made for them.”
“Chessmen contrived by a rebel!” said Mr. Linwood—“of course he has left out the king, queen, and bishop?”
“Pardon me—he may think kings, queens, and bishops very fit playthings.”
“But what says the note?” asked Herbert, impatiently.
“It says, that if the chessboard should fail to be of use to Ned and Lizzy, it has at least served the purpose of partially diverting his thoughts from a grief that almost drives him mad. Of course he, alludes to this sad affair.”
“Undoubtedly,” replied Herbert; “and this business of the chessboard is just like himself—he is the most extraordinary fellow! I never knew him in any trouble, small or great, that he did not turn to doing something for somebody or other by way of a solace—a balm to his hurt mind.”
“I do not wonder you love him so devotedly,” said Isabella.
308“Oh, Belle,” whispered Herbert in return, “had Heaven but have put him in Jasper’s place, or made Jasper like him!”
Mrs. Archer caught the words, and in spite of her own discretion and Isabella’s painful blushes, she uttered a deep and insuppressible “Amen.”
“Come, come, what are you all about?” said Mr. Linwood: “suppose you imitate this wonderful hero of yours in the use of his mental panacea, and comfort me with a game of whist. Do you play as deep a game as you used to, Herbert; trump your partner’s trick, and finesse with a knave and ten spot?”
Herbert confessed he had forgotten the little he knew. “Well, then, you may brood over your Yankee paper, and we will call in your mother, who, in five-and-twenty years’ drilling, has learned just enough not to trump her partner’s tricks.”
Mrs. Linwood was summoned, and the party formed. Mr. Linwood was in high good-humour, and though Isabella made some inscrutable plays, all went smoothly till the family party was alarmed by a tap at the door; and before any one had time to reply to it, the door was opened, and Lady Anne Seton appeared. Startled by the appearance of a stranger, and somewhat disconcerted by perceiving the embarrassment caused by her intrusion, “Shall I go back?” she asked, her hand still on the door.
“Oh, no—no,” cried Mr. Linwood, “come in, my dear little girl, by all means; you promised me a game of piquet, and I, an old savage, forgot it, and so I have forfeited my right, and now make it over to this young man, my son Herbert.” Lady Anne turned a surprised, sparkling, and inquiring glance to Herbert, as much as to say, “Is it possible!” and Herbert made his bow of presentation. “You know,” continued the father, “that this young man is in limbo; but you 309do not know, and be sure you let no one else know, that Sir Henry, God bless him! permits the rascal to visit us privately.”
“Am I really trusted with an important secret?—delightful!—and does any thing depend on my keeping it?”
“The continuance of my brother’s visits and Sir Henry’s favour,” replied Isabella, emphatically, alarmed at the necessity of confiding their secret to one so gay and inexperienced as Lady Anne.
Inexperienced she was, but true and single-hearted. “Do not look so solemn, my dear Miss Linwood,” she said; “indeed I will not tell. I am too much puffed up with the first important secret I ever had in my keeping to part with it carelessly. I am even with aunt and Jasper now, with their everlasting private talks; and when it is stupid at home, I may come here, may I not?”
“Always,” interposed Mr. Linwood, really delighted with the accession of the charming girl to their circle. Mrs. Linwood, who only waited for her husband to strike the key-note, was voluble in her hospitable expressions. Herbert looked the most unequivocal welcome; and Lady Anne, never querulous, did not trouble herself about Isabella’s merely civil assent, and perhaps did not notice it. From this time her visits were almost as regular as Herbert’s. She was little addicted to romance; but every young girl has a spice of it, and Herbert’s romantic and precarious position increased the charm of his frank and spirited character. A dear lover of sunshine was Herbert; and these short domestic interludes, brightened by Lady Anne, were hours in paradise to him. All day in his gloomy prison he looked forward to his release from purgatory; and, once engaged at a side-table with his lively partner in the most fascinating of all tête-à-tête games, or round the petit-souper, which his good mother spent the day in contriving and concocting, he forgot the ills of life, till the summons 310from his keeper reminded him that he had still to buffet with his portion of them.
“If I do not mistake,” said Mrs. Archer to Isabella, after the breaking up of one of their evening meetings, “Herbert and Lady Anne are beginning to see visions, and dream dreams.”
“Heaven forbid!”
“And why, my dear Belle, should Heaven forbid so natural and pleasant a consequence of their familiar intercourse?”
“How can you ask, aunt Mary? I could not forgive Herbert if he were so soon to forget poor Bessie.”
“We must take man as he is, Belle. Herbert is too lighthearted to cherish a hopeless passion; he regards his love for Bessie Lee as a dream, and, rely on it, he is thoroughly awakened from it. You must have perceived that he has not been desperately afflicted about your unfortunate little friend?”
“Yes, I have—but men do not show their feelings.”
“Some men do not, but Herbert does; and rely on it, Belle, he is not of a temper to continue to love a person (even if poor little Bessie were not, as she must now be, utterly lost to him) whose heart is another’s.”
“I suppose you are right, aunt Mary,” replied Isabella, after a moment’s hesitation, colouring deeply; “the whole sex are alike incapable of the generosity of unrequited affection!” Unacknowledged was her mental reading of unrequited.
“Substitute folly or weakness for generosity, Belle, and you will take a more masculine, and, it may be, a more rational view of the case.”
“Oh, aunt Mary, are you, like the rest of the world, giving up all feeling for what you call rationality!”
“No, my dear child, but I have learned that what you call feeling, what constitutes the dream of a few weeks, months, or it may be years of youth, makes but a small portion of the reality or the worth of life. Providence has kindly so organized 311man, that he cannot waste his affections in one hopeless, fruitless concentration; nor lose life in a tissue of vain regrets. The stream that is obstructed in one course will take another, and enrich and beautify regions for which it did not, at first, seem destined.”
Isabella was not just now in a humour to assent to Mrs. Archer’s conclusions, but her mind was the good ground in which the seed could not be lost. She was conscious that, though her aunt’s strictures were ostensibly directed to Herbert, they had some bearing on herself. She was in a position the most tormenting to a mind prompt both to decide and act. Since Lady Anne’s arrival she had rarely seen Meredith. This she admitted was in part her own fault. She had been restrained by her promise to Sir Henry Clinton from communicating to Jasper the favour granted Herbert. “But when she gave the promise to Sir Henry, ought she not to have excepted Jasper? Was it not due to him? and would she not have made the exception, through all the blushing and faltering it must have cost her, had she not felt sure that Sir Henry himself would have made Meredith a party to the secret?”
Sir Henry, after a little reflection, was ashamed of the spell that had been wrought on him, and communicated it to no one.
Meredith, partly spurred by pride, partly led on by the incessant manœuvres of his mother, and partly incited by the worldly advantages of an alliance with Lady Anne, and flattered too by his cousin’s frank and affectionate manner, was fast verging towards that point, to attain which his mother had compassed sea and land.
He had confidently expected that Isabella would at once and fully have reciprocated his declarations of attachment. Her reserve had abased his pride, piqued his vanity, and disappointed his affection. He believed he truly loved her, and he did, as truly as he could love. But Jasper Meredith’s love, 312like water that rises through minerals, was impregnated with much foreign material. He at first had no formed purpose in his devotion to Lady Anne; but after being twice or thrice repulsed from Mr. Linwood’s door by “My master is better, sir but not yet down stairs;” and “Miss Isabella is very much engaged,” he half resolved no longer to resist the “tide in his affairs that was leading on to fortune.”