University of Virginia Library

42. CHAPTER XLII.
HOW CAPTAIN RALPH AND HENRIETTA TOOK A DRIVE TOGETHER,
AND WHAT FOLLOWED.

As we did not consider it necessary to relate the particulars
of the Captain's last interview with Miss Henrietta Lee,
so we shall for the same reason omit any description of the
final and decisive assault, to adopt the phrase of the author
of the manuscript from which these events are taken.

We can only say that when the soldier issued forth from
the mansion of Riverhead his countenance was more radiant
than ever, and that he twirled his moustaches toward the eye
with an obstinate vigor which caused them to yield in spite
of themselves and assume the killing air in absolute perfection.

On the very next day the gallant Captain might have
been seen again before the door of Mr. Lee's mansion, this
time seated in a handsome curricle drawn by his handsome
roan. It was a beautiful morning, and the white gravelled
walk glittered in the sun, the firm heel of the soldier clashing
on it, as with jingling spurs—his old habit could not
yield to change—he entered the wide portal.

In half an hour he emerged again, and this time with

Miss Henrietta on his arm. That young lady was as radiant
as the morning:—her eyes shone brilliantly, and her rich
dress was dimmed by the bright color of her cheeks.

The Captain assisted her into the vehicle, followed, and,
gathering up the reins, set forward towards the cottage.

For some time they rode in silence: nothing was said:
but at last Captain Ralph shook his head and sighed.

“It is not agreeable,” he said; “no, it is repugnant.”

“What?” she asked in a low tone, looking inquiringly
at his disconsolate face.

“This thing of taking you from the abode of wealth and
comfort—morbleu! from the bower of ease and elegance, my
dear Miss Henrietta, to the humble cottage which I—unhappy
that I am!—inhabit.”

And the soldier groaned.

“I thought we had dismissed that subject,” she said in
the same low tone.

“Yes,” said Captain Ralph, sighing again, “I understand.
You, my dear wife to be, are one of those noble natures who
can adapt themselves to any thing. Yes, I fully believed you
when you said yesterday with that charming sincerity which,
parbleu! is the most graceful and delightful trait of your charming
and admirable character, machère, when you said you would
not marry for mere wealth: and if the man of your choice
had it not, that you would forget all and follow him—to the
world's end, you said: alas!”

And Captain Ralph uttered a groan which seemed to indicate
an overburdened heart.

“Yes,” he continued, “I understand how it is that having
cast a favorable regard upon the poor soldier, and seen that
he is honest and loyal, and likely to be faithful for ever and
the day after, my dear Henrietta—I can understand that you
with your grand abnegation of self, weighed his worldly position
as nothing: which, morbleu! is oftener done by our honest
Virginia girls than people can be brought to admit. I
can comprehend all that: but the fact of my abject poverty
none the less wounds and mortifies me.”

With which words the lady's companion twirled his
moustache forlornly.

“You make me feel badly by speaking thus,” said Henrietta,
turning aside her head.

“Badly?”

“Indeed you do,” she murmured.

“I am sorry,” he said, crying; “but it is proper for me
to say a few words more, ma chère! Do you see that
horse?”

“Yes,” she said, in a low voice.

“Does he look human?” continued the Captain, disconlately.

“Human?”

“Like a man,” explained the soldier.

The lady looked at him in astonishment.

“Ah, I see,” said the Captain, “you don't understand.
That horse, ma chère, is a man.”

“A man!”

“Yes, and his name is Von der Dank,” said the Captain,
gravely.

“Oh!” said Henrietta.

“Nothing but the truth. Does he not belong to that
respectable merchant of Rotterdam, and am I not in fact
driving the worthy Von der Dank in harness? 'Tis positively
unchristian.”

And nettled at his own bad feeling, the Captain laid the
lash across the representative of Mynheer Von der Dank,
who tossed his head and flew along gallantly.

“Then not content with driving Von der Dank,” continued
the soldier, “I must commit the further impropriety
of running the pasha Omer at the races. Selim, my dear
Henrietta, is an Arabian whom I stole in the Orient from
the pasha—it is humiliating to confess it: but there should
be no secrets between us.”

Henrietta looked at her companion with wide eyes.

“True, every word true,” said the Captain, sighing;
“and to drive Von der Dank in harness, and run the pasha
Omer for the amusement of a crowd of Christian dogs—as
they call us—seems to me nothing less than sheep stealing,
or what my servant Lanky fancies the highest disgrace—
henroost robbing.”

The Captain's head drooped.

“You are jesting,” murmured Henrietta; “surely—oh!
how foolish I am to mind you.”

“Jesting? I wish I was: 'tis too sad a subject however.
And that is not all.”

“Not all?”

“Do you see that necklace around your neck? But of
course you do.”

“Yes,” said Henrietta, scarcely knowing what to say.

“Well, my soul! that necklace represents Simpkins &
Co., of the port of New York. You are wearing Simpkins
around your neck—his arms encircle you. Just think
of it!”

And the Captain groaned with jealousy and mortification.

“Don't answer me,” he continued, “my feelings are
poignant enough already. Let us get on to my hovel which
you see in the distance yonder. Von der Dank, proceed my
friend!” and he lashed the worthy merchant; “the pasha
awaits you in the stable, and you carry, in addition to your
master and his bride, the firm of Simpkins—that I should be
alive to say it!”

The roan seemed to be very well content with his enormous
load, and the bright curricle flashed on under the green
boughs and through the sunlight: and ere long stopped before
the door of the cottage.

Lanky stood there, louting low, his cap in his hand.

The Captain assisted Henrietta out, and pointing to
Lanky, who was holding the animal, said:

“That, my dear Henrietta, is the gentleman who made
my fortune.”

“Then you have a fortune after all,” laughed the young
girl, good-humoredly.

“No, no, I mean that Lanky was the means of my winning
you—my pearl, what do I say! my rose, my diamond!”

“Pray how?”

“He is the lover of Donsy.”

“Donsy?”

“Donsy Smith.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes, yes,” said the Captain, “and but for him I should
have laid my heart—perhaps, who knows?—at that charming
young lady's feet.”

“Indeed!” said Henrietta, with something like a pout.

“Yes, verily and in truth—en verite, as they have it over
yonder. But his affections having been engaged by the said
Donsy, you may fancy that I was far too honorable to interfere.
Honor is all I have left now,” the Captain groaned.

And he led the young girl into the rude house.

“Look around,” he said.

Henrietta obeyed.

“Is it not humiliating?”

“No,” she said.

“Look at that table.”

“Yes.”

“Contemplate those chairs.”

“Well,” repeated Henrietta, in the same good-humored
voice.

“Deign to survey those rafters, from which—heaven preserve
us!—dangle strings of onions, and material, unpoetical
bacon flitches.”

“They look very nice,” said Henrietta, laughing.

The Captain groaned.

“And to take you from your wealthy and elegant abode
to such a hut,” he said.

“I suppose I am content,” she said, cheerfully.

“A lady eat onions!” cried the Captain.

“I did not promise that,” she laughed.

“A lady partake of bacon!”

“I believe a great many ladies do daily.”

“A lady sit upon chairs like those at such a table as
that!”

“They are very nice to rest in, and my wrapping is very
well here,” said Henrietta, sitting down, and laying her silk
pelisse upon the rude pine table.

The Captain shook his head, sighing piteously.

“That is all affectation, ma chère,” he said, forlornly.

“Indeed 'tis not.”

“Yes, yes.”

“I am perfectly contented.”

“With your future abode?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

The Captain uttered a sigh.

“It wounds me,” he said, “to the very heart thus to
drag down the star of my life. But how can I help it?”

“I am glad I am a star,” said Henrietta, smiling, “but I
do not feel as if I were dragged down.”

“All devotion—grandeur: it springs from your woman's
nature. Just look around—just look at that pine knot at
the door.”

“Pine knot?”

“Yes, yes; at my scaramouch—at Lanky.”

She laughed.

“This is your future mistress, Lanky,” said the Captain.

The pine knot louted low.

“I am very glad to see you, Lanky, and to make your
acquaintance,” said Henrietta, holding out her hand, with a
charming smile.

Lanky colored, and did not dare to take the hand.

“Won't you shake hands?” said Henrietta, smiling.

Lanky trembled and approached.

“Oh, ma'am!” he said.

And he found his huge paw inclosed in a soft white hand,
like velvet, which pressed it kindly.

Lanky disappeared, staggering with delight.

“Look at him!” sighed the Captain; “see the difference
between that ridiculous country bumpkin, in his striped
stockings and fustian waistcoat, and the well-fed butler you
are accustomed to see, Henrietta.”

“I like Lanky the best,” she said, smiling; “he seems
very honest.”

“Yes, yes, a bon garçon, and would die for me.”

“Then,” said Henrietta, simply, “I shall like him more
than ever.”

The Captain's martial face was illuminated with a look
of pride and happiness which changed it instantly, and made
it radiant.

“Morbleu! Henrietta,” he cried, “you are the pearl of
your sex, the queen of the heart, as you are the queen of
beauty! And can you consent to leave your father's house,
with all its elegance, its comfort, its quiet pleasure and soft
repose, to become the inmate of this cabin, the wife of the
rude soldier who stands before you? Can you bid adieu to
every brilliant scene, to all your past life, spent in the midst
of so much ease, even splendor, to light up my poor hut with
your smiles—my life with your fair and beautiful eyes?

Can you consent to take a poor soldier, a rough adventurer,
a common fellow, with nothing but a loyal heart?”

She murmured, “Yes.”

“You cannot leave that position without a struggle,
however,” he continued. “Does it not rend your heart to
descend so low—to leave Riverhead for this cottage—to
become the mistress of a hovel? Can you look with equanimity
upon a future where no sun shines, where you must
contend with common, coarse, material obstacles—with vulgar
want, and struggle on without casting a single longing look
back on your past?”

“Yes,” she said, putting her hand in his, “I have you.”

“Shall I put the roan up, sir?” said Lanky, appearing at
the door.

“No,” sighed the Captain, relapsing into gloom; “we
will return.”

And offering his arm to Henrietta, he passed through
the door, and slowly assisted her into the vehicle again,
sighing.

“Suppose we take a short drive before returning,” he
said.

She nodded good-humoredly.

The Captain only groaned in reply, and lashed his horse,
who set off like lightning upon the smooth road leading up
the river.

“Your gloom distresses me,” said Henrietta, in a low
voice; “for heaven's sake forget these mere worldly circumstances;
they do not affect me for a moment. I would not
have given my hand to the richest gentleman in the land for
his riches only. Why should I estimate what I do not value
so highly? Look at the sunlight, and hear the birds singing.
We enjoy them as much as though we were a king and
queen; and I think the river singing down upon the shore
is happiness enough!”

And she looked as perfectly happy and contented as it is
possible to conceive.

The Captain only sighed, and shook his head, murmuring:

“You are a noble heart.”

“Indeed I'm not,” she replied, cheerfully, “but I am far

more than contented. And, besides, father will not let us
want any thing—you forget that.”

“Oh!” groaned the Captain, “that is too humiliating!
A strong-armed soldier like me marrying for money! Do
not speak of it, Henrietta—it is dreadful. I did not seek
your money—if you have any of that disagreeable commodity—the
Shakespearian word, I believe. I hate and
despise what is vulgarly called cash!”

And in the excess of his wrath at finding that his future
wife would probably have a large fortune on her marriage, the
Captain lashed the roan until that unfortunate animal fairly
flew.

“Let us not speak further on this subject,” he added;
“let us enjoy the landscape. See the river—see those noble
mansions crowning the fine hills. Parbleu! the goods of
this wicked world—particularly of that wickedest portion,
Virginia—are not equally divided. Now it seems to me
that I ought to have one of those fine houses. Society owes
me a house and plantation. I will establish a school of
politics with that cardinal principle. I will become agrarian.
I want land.”

Henrietta smiled.

“We can do very well without it,” she said.

“Contemplate the fine old houses,” continued the Captain,
sighing; “look at the smiling fields—I covet those
fields, I break the tenth commandment horribly, morbleu!”

“The whole?” asked Henrietta, smiling.

“Yes, yes.”

“Do you covet your neighbor's wife?” she laughed.

The Captain smiled sadly.

“No, no; I believe you have me there,” he said; “I
don't want any wife but the one who will soon be mine
legally, and I may add, equitably—in fee-simple.”

And having made this great display of legal knowledge,
the Captain stopped sighing.

“See what a fine house across the river,” he added.

“Yes; but I think Mr. Wilt's, here, is far prettier.”

“No, no.”

“Indeed, I think it is.”

“Well, I have a moment's business with that gentleman.
Will you go in?”

“Oh yes.”

A quarter of a mile was passed over, and the vehicle
stopped at the door of one of those fine old mansions we
have heard the Captain covet. It fairly smiled in the bright
May sunlight, with its gables, dormer windows, and old
trees.

An aged negro came to the door, and held the horse respectfully
for the soldier. He assisted Henrietta out, and
they entered.

“Why, they have new furniture,” she said: “I know all
about `Flodden,' and it looks very much changed.”

“Ah!”

“Yes indeed! how strange! but how handsome it is.”

They went into the parlor, and the well-fed butler stood
bowing.

“James,” said Henrietta; but stopping, she added,
“why, it is not James?”

“My name is Thomas, madam,” said the courteous black
gentleman, not seeing the Captain's signals of wrath.

“Thomas! why where is old James?”

“He went away, they tell me, ma'am, with Squire Wilts.”

“Went away!”

“The squire done moved to his t'other house up the river,
ma'am, and master there done bought the place—`Floding'
I b'lieve they calls it.”

Suddenly Thomas started and shook: he saw the wrathful
eyes of the soldier on him.

Henrietta could say nothing; the whole flashed on her;
she only looked in silence at the Captain.

“Yes, my dearest Henrietta,” said that gentleman, “I understand
what you would say. You mean that I have deceived
you—and, morbleu! you are perfectly right. But
ah! I could not deny myself that scene at the cottage—I
could not omit such pleasure. It was not to try you. Oh
no! parole d'honneur! I felt that useless. But in this
world we cannot get too much happiness, and in your devotion
to your rude soldier, there was such happiness as he has seldom
experienced in this wicked world.

“Yes,” continued the Captain, “`Flodden' is my home
now, the squire having disposed of it privately to me, taking
in exchange for it some twelve thousand pounds I had lying

idle. Let me embrace the opportunity further to assure you
ma chère, that Van der Dank, the pasha, and the New-York
firm, are all honestly paid—the animals are mine, the bracelet
yours. We have enough, thank Heaven, to live quietly
upon, and you will not be compelled, my dearest Henriette,
to descend as low as onions.”

With which words the Captain, laughing, full of pride
and delight, smoothed softly the head that lay upon his
shoulder.

“Now we shall return in a different manner,” he said;
and he gave an order to the butler.

That gentleman bowed low and vanished.

A quarter of an hour afterwards, a magnificent chariot
drove up to the door, drawn by four horses, whose bright
coats and rosetted heads shone in the merry sunlight.

The Captain led the young girl forth, and assisted her
into the coach: then followed. The courteous black butler
bowed—the old superannuated hostler smiled; for he liked
the frank face of the soldier;—and the vehicle set off at a
gallop. Captain Ralph was partial to rapid motion.

They did not speak for some moments; then the soldier
said:

“But how are you pleased with your house, ma chère?”

“Very much,” she said, smiling; “but I like the cottage
and Lanky best, I think!”

Which caused the Captain to burst into laughter. In two
hours they reached `Riverhead.'