University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

“That very night Mr. Eckhardt contrived, after the young
lady had gone to bed, to let my father know that he would be
pleased if his ward could be suffered to remain in his family for a
few days, until he should cross the river, in order to look after a
man on the west of the Misssisippi, who owed him money. He
was unwilling to carry her with him into so very wild a region.
He made every thing appear so natural to the old man, that he
consented out of hand, just as if it had been the most reasonable
arrangement in the world; and it was only after Mr. Eckhardt
had set out,—which he did by daylight the next morning,—that
my father said to me:

“ `It's very strange, William, now I come to think of it, that
Mr. Eckhardt should leave the young lady in a family where
there's none but men.'

“ `But she's just as safe here, father,' said I, `as if she had fifty
of her own sex about her.'

“ `That's true enough, William,' said the old man, `and if the
child feels herself at home, why there's nothing amiss. I'm
thinking she's about the sweetest-looking creature I ever laid
eyes on.'

“I thought so too, but I said nothing, and followed the old man
into the house, with my feelings getting more and more strange
and worrisome at every moment. I was in the greatest whirl of
expectation—my cheeks a-burning,—my heart as cold as ice, and
leaping up and down, just as scarily as a rabbit's when he's finding
his way through the paling into a garden patch. I felt as if
the business now upon my hands was about the most serious and
trying I had ever undertaken; and it took all my thinking, I tell
you, to bring my courage to the right pitch, so as to steady my
eyes while I spoke to the young lady as she came out to the
breakfast-table. My father had a message to her from Mr. Eckhardt,
telling her of his absence; and though she looked a little

anxious when she heard that he was already gone, she soon seemed
to become quiet and at ease in her situation. Indeed, for that
matter, she was the most resigned and easy person I ever met in
my life. She seemed quite too gentle ever to complain, and I
may say now, with some certainty, that, whatever might be her
hurts of mind or body, she was the most patient to submit, and
the most easy to be pacified, of all human beings.

“Now, if you know any thing of a man of my description, if
you're any thing of a judge of human nature, you'll readily understand
that, if I was scary and bashful at first, in meeting with
a young and beautiful creature like her, and knowing what I did
know of what was before me, it didn't take very long for the fright
to wear off. The man whose feelings are very quick, gets mightily
confused at first, but give him time, don't hurry him, and he'll
come to his senses pretty soon, and they'll come to him, and they'll
be the sharper and the more steady, from the scare they had at first
—you can't scare them in the same manner a second time. Before
that day was well out, I could sit down and talk with Rachel,
and hear her talk, without growing blind, dumb, and deaf in an
instant. Her mildness gave me encouragement, and when I got
used to the sound of my own voice, just after hers, I then found
out, not only that I had a good deal to say, but that she listened
very patiently, and I think was pleased to hear it. I found her
so mild, so kind, and encouraging, she seemed to take so much
interest in every thing she saw, that I was for showing her every
thing. Our cows, the little dairy, the new wagon, even to
the fields of corn, cotton, and potatoes, were all subjects of examination
one after the other. Then, I could carry her along the
hill slopes, through as pretty a grove, too, as you would wish to
lay eyes on; and down along just such another, even to the river
banks; and we had odd things enough to show, here and there, to
keep up the spirits and have something to talk about. These
rambles we'd take either in the cool of the morning, or towards
sunset in the afternoon; and, sometimes the old man would go
along with us—but, as he couldn't go very far at one time, we
had pretty much the whole chance to ourselves; and what with
talking and walking with Rachel, and thinking about her when I
wasn't with her, I did precious little work that week. To shorten

a long story, my friend, I now began to think that there was
nothing wrong in my gambling with Mr. Eckhardt, and to agree
in his notion that the loser was always bound to pay, and the winner
to receive. Before he got back, which he did not until
ten days were fully over, I had pretty much concluded that I
should find it the most trying business in nature to have to give up
my winnings. I don't mean the diamonds; for them I had not
seen, and hadn't cared to see; but I mean the incumbrance that
came with them, which, by this time, was more than all the gold
or diamonds, in my sight, that the whole world could show.