University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.
HARD WORDS.

While a portion of those in whom we hope our readers take an interest
still linger at the capital, let us again revisit the charming shores of the
Chesapeake—that choice region, which is daily deserted by its natives for an
unknown land of frogs, and vapors, and swamps.

Before another halt century rolls round, the borders of this most magnificent
of all inland seas will be sought for by travellers in their summer rounds, from
both sides of the Atlantic, and its now decaying mansions will be rebuilt, with
far more than their former splendor. The little old squat farm houses, with
their dormar windows, will be supplanted by elegant villas, and neat cottages
and stately castles, and the hundreds and thousands of monuments erected in
memory of the dead of a former generation, and now slanting to the horizon,
and many of them dilapidated and disjointed, will be eagerly sought out by
some old Mortality, and their nearly obliterated insignia restored and redeemed
from oblivion. Perhaps the descendants of these very restless emigrants, now
miring in the swamps of Mississippi, may return, and hunt out the faded and
perishing memorials of their forefathers, and cast their tents beside them, and
say, here will we and our posterity dwell forever, in the land given to our
fathers. Well would it have been for thousands and tens of thousands had
they been content to dwell in this most favored land, endowed by nature as it
is with all that should cheer the heart and content the mind of man. We
say, that in less than half a century, the tide of emigration will roll backward,
and the desolate shores of the Chesapeake yet blossom as the rose. Oh may
that day soon come, when Virginians will learn to venerate more and more
the land where the bones of their sires lie; that land consecrated as the
burial place of a whole generation of high-hearted patriots, and where yet
breathes the purest spirit of enlightened freedom that ever refreshed and pu

rified the earth; that land in which was exhibited that rarest combination of
social arstocracy and public equality—where virtue, and talents, and worth
alone were consecrated to reverence, through hereditary lines of descent.
Many an hour did we toil to replace the fallen cap of some old tomb-stone, of
a sire, perhaps, whose descendants were every one gone to a strange land.
We were accompanied in our labor of love sometimes by one,[7] who even then
bore about his person the too sure evidence that he, too, would soon sleep
with the consecrated dead, whose memories and monuments he loved so well
to cherish.

We could not pass through Old York on our way to Temple Farm, without
one more glimpse at that melancholy and utterly ruinous grave yard; where
the traveller beholds the faded efforts of heraldry, like a cross-bones and
death's head, gaping from every tomb-stone. There the stones themselves,
erected to perpetuate earthly honors, are fast sinking to the grave, staring and
gaping as they fall, and holding aloft their effigied arms, as if in supplication
to the passer by to save them from the threatened desecration. That old
grave yard is turned out like their old fields, to rejuvenate upon the very carrion
which is left from the ceaseless battle that time wages with all things.
Oh Virginians! ye noble few who still cling to the hearth-stones of your forefathers,
rouse up, and preserve these old time-honored monuments—these old
tomb stones, that have withstood the storms of the Chesapeake for a hundred
and fifty years. When those old grave stones are replaced, and flowers once
more bloom over their green and dark forms, then will the regeneration of the
Old Dominion commence, and not till then.

Our readers have caught a glimpse of the position of some of the parties
at Temple Farm, from the conversation of Kit Carter and Bernard Moore;
but there were others at the farm, to whom they were not so amusing. Harry
Lee could scarcely believe his own eyes, when he saw the young lady at
whose feet he had been casting his princely fortune, and not less princely
self, daily wandering along the shores of the bay, and through the garden
and the shady groves, and along the banks of the little brook, with one whom
he considered as only occupying his present social position by sufferance.
He was struck with the fact, that the more Ellen and Hall were together, the
more the hatred of the latter was manifested to him. He determined therefore
to seek an early opportunity for explanation from both. In the meantime,
it seemed to him as if the stay of the old Doctor would be prolonged forever,
so impatient was he for his return. He inquired for him at every meal.

On one of these occasions, Dorothea, with a sly smile upon her face, proposed
to despatch a messenger for the Doctor, if Mr. Lee was getting much
worse, as she said her brother was better, and the Doctor could no doubt be
spared in case of emergency.

“I thank you,” said Lee, “I am not myself the patient who most needs
his valuable services,” glancing scornfully at the Tutor.

“I did not know,” innocently replied the little girl, “but it might be gout
in the stomach, or a disease of the heart, and these things, you know, mama,
are so frightful and so insidious; they never have any external signs, I believe.”

Ellen on these occasions would look beseechingly at her little friend, while
her Ladyship would carry off the conversation upon some other topic, as if
Dorothea had not spoken. On one of these mornings, Lee walked into the
library, at that hour when he knew the Secretary was at work and alone.
He bowed stiffiy to Hall. The latter rose hastily, handed him a chair, and
at the same time stuck the pen behind his ear, after which he took his own
seat, and waited for Mr. Lee to open the conversation, which he did as follows:

“Mr. Hall, in the absence of Governor Spotswood and Dr. Evylin, I have
taken upon myself a very unpleasing duty, and one which I fear in its performance
may inflict pain upon you.”

“I am utterly at a loss to comprehend you.”

“You shall not long remain so, sir—I am not one to shrink from the performance
of what I consider due to the worthy and honorable gentlemen,
whose representative I consider myself, in some measure, in their absence.”

“Indeed—I had rather thought that I had been charged by his Excellency
with representing him in his absence.”

“I thought, sir, that you must be laboring under some strange delusion as
to your position here.”

“I am still in the dark, sir.”

“So I perceive, and it is my intention to enlighten you.”

“I will listen with the greatest attention, and all the respect to which
your remarks may be entitled.”

“Lee bit his lip, and elevated his person still more than usual, if possible, as
he proceeded:

“You must know, sir, that it is not usual in this country, for one who holds
the—the subordinate office of Tutor or Private Secretary, to assume an equal
station with gentlemen of birth and fortune.”

“I am at a loss to know, Mr. Lee, in what I have transcended the indulgence
extended to me by Gov. Spotswood himself. I even abstained from presenting
myself at his table, until expressly commanded to do so by himself.”

“In that matter he had doubtless a right to do as he pleased; but you
must know that the Governor is a very eccentric man, and somewhat whimsical—he
may command you to set at his table to-day, and refuse you to morrow.”

“But, sir, he expressly stated it to me as his desire, that I would set at his
table, as one of his family. Am I to understand Mr. Lee, as expressing a
contrary desire?”

“By no means—I only alluded to your appearance at table as an example,
and because you first alluded to it yourself; my design was to touch upon
other matters—your intimate association with the female inmates of his family.”

`Ah! you allude to my late rambles with Miss Evylin.”

“I do, sir, and it is somewhat remarkable that they should have commenced
the moment the Governor and the Doctor disappeared.”

“With regard to the point of time, I had nothing in the world to do. The
interview was sought by the lady. I state this in justification of myself, and
only under such circumstances as the present, would I say this much.
Further I will not utter a single syllable, unless you can show by what authority
you question me in this matter at all.”

“I have already said, that I consider myself, in some measure, as the representative
of those two gentlemen.”

“Yes, sir, but you are the self-elected representative, and have not yet exhibited
to me any other authority.”

“Then, sir, I have another title to question you in this matter. I have the
authority of the lady's father for occupying a very delicate relation towards her.”

“And the lady's, also?”

“About that, sir, you have no right to question, and I consider it rather presumptuous
in one in your position to presume as far as you have.”

By this time both had risen. Hall replied—“and I consider it equally presumptuous
in you, sir, to question me.”

Lee looked astounded. “Very well, sir,” said he, “I have at least brought
this matter to an issue, and I will state the case to the ladies of the family, and
they can act as they choose, until the gentlemen return.”

“And I, sir, will relate the whole of this conversation, word for word, to
Miss Evylin, so that she at least may know how far each of us have presumed.”

“Beware, sir, how you mention my name in that quarter. I will hold
your person responsible.”

“I don't know what you mean by holding my person responsible. If it be
that you imagine that you can hold me to any sort of responsibility, in which
you will not be equally so held, you have mistaken me, far more than I can
have mistaken my position.”

“We shall see—we shall see—it will depend upon your success in establishing
your claims to bear the name which now you wear. In the event of this
unpleasant business proceeding to hostilities between us, you will not find me
unwilling to yield you far more, in such a case, than I think you have any right
to claim now, in a social position.”

“That is, am I to understand that Mr. Lee is willing to grant me to be a
gentleman in war, but not in love.”

“Beware, sir, how you trifle with me in this matter. It is no proof of either
your courage or breeding to taunt me, while your hands are tied.”

“There, sir, you spoke the truth, and I honor even an enemy for that. It is
indeed too true, my hands are tied, and that I was too precipitate—thus far, I retract,
but the main issue between us must continue, until I establish my claims
to be your equal. Soon after which Lee left the room, with a rather more polite
and respectful air than he had entered it. He nevertheless went straightway
to the parlor, and despatched a servant for Miss Evylin. While he was kicking
his heels in the parlor, we will glance into the Governor's library again,
where we left the Tutor. There was no more drawing of military maps that
morning—he threw himself into a chair and buried his face in his hands, and
if he did not weep, his frame was convulsed mightily like it. This was a poor
preparation for a hostile meeting of any sort, but the bitter things of the heart
will have vent, when alone, however much we brave them away in the midst of
a personal altercation. How many men would see the error of their ways, if
they would thus honestly meditate upon all that they have just said and done
after such an affair; not that Hall regretted, in the main, any thing he had said.

He threw on his hat and walked abroad into the fields to cool his feverish
brow and excited feelings, and to reflect upon what it was best to do, under the
accumulating embarrassments of his situation. He had hoped that the tramontaine
expedition would set out before his own private affairs might come
to a crisis, but that he now foresaw was impossible, and this reflection made
him miserable; for he had entered into all the Governor's plans with spirit and
enthusiasm, and besides had other private motives, above the ordinary youthful
desire for notoriety—to distinguish himself. He was waiting, too, anxiously for
news from Europe—alas, he little knew how disastrous would be the first
aspect of that news to him—he little imagined that at that very moment a
vessel was ploughing her way into the bay, bringing information almost the
reverse of what he expected. Without this last drop to his already brimming
cup, he found the weight of his troubles sufficient for all his fortitude and
patience.

The main subject of his present reflections was the impending personal
difficulty with Mr. Lee. He foresaw that a crisis in that affair was inevitable,
and that it was surrounded with difficulties which would ruin him, if he
seized upon either horn of the dilemma. He could neither fight Lee, nor
refuse to fight with honor, according to the prevailing notions of the country
and the times, and yet he gathered from some expressions dropped by that
young gentleman in their late altercation, that he would force it to such an
issue in the last resort. We will leave him, however, to struggle with his
own difficulties, while we return to Mr. Lee, who waited a considerable
time for Ellen to make her appearance. She dreaded the interview, because
she supposed it was like so many that had gone before it, but she resolved
that it should be the last. As she descended the stairs, she was pondering

the best manner of communicating to the gentleman, not only her utter aversion
to him, but also how she might make him comprehend, with his arrogance
and great self-esteem, that his persevering suit amounted to persecution.
It may be readily conceived that such a train of reflections were not
well calculated to prepare her to receive in a very amiable mood the harangue
which was to follow.

She saw as she entered the room, that she had mistaken his object for
once, and seating herself, kept her eye upon his countenance, with an anxious
inquiring look for his object.

“Miss Evylin,” he began, “I have sent for you, to have some conversation
upon a subject which I fear will be painful, but I felt it to be my duty to do so,
in the absence of Governor Spotswood and your father.”

“You startle me, sir,” she suddenly exclaimed, “will you be so good as to
mention the subject, without farther circumlocution?”

“I am not one given to much circumlocution, Miss Evylin, but on occasions
such as the present, when very delicate matters are involved, it is right
to prepare the mind for the reception of disagreeable news.”

“News!” cried she, “of whom—my father?—has any thing happened to
him?” and she ran up and grasped his arm.

“He is well as you might have divined, from my mentioning his absence as
the cause of my having imposed the present disagreeable duty upon myself.”

“True,” she said, and threw herself into a chair in a listless mood, as if
she cared not what else he might say. She was however mistaken there, for
she was roused again in an instant, as he proceeded:

“Miss Evylin—Mr. Hall has used your name in a way, which I have
every reason to believe was entirely unauthorized by you, and one, too, which
I must say it becomes you to authorize me to contradict at once.”

“Mr. Hall, use my name! authorize you to contradict! why what could
Mr. Hall say of me?”

“Oh, I see that it was all made up for the occasion; I thought it would
turn out so. Why, thus it was. When I took him to task for his presumption
in associating so intimately with the ladies of the Governor's family in
his absence, and more especially with yourself, he with quite an air boasted
that his society had been sought by you, and not yours by him.”

Ellen rose to her feet, and walked straight up to Lee, and looked into his
face, as she inquired in a slow, almost whispered voice, so deep was her emotion,
“Did Mr. Hall use such language of me, and with such a motive, and
with such an air?”

“He did—and I cannot of course speak as to the exact words, but such was
precisely the impression left upon my mind.”

“Mr. Lee, refresh your memory again—I would have perilled my life upon
the truth and honor of that gentleman—have not your own feelings colored
his expressions?”

“I have already stated how the conversation happened, and given you the
result as near as I am capable of—there can be no mistake, for it happened
not half an hour ago, in the Governor's Library.”

She threw herself back into a seat, as one who gives up, and said: “Then
I have indeed been grossly deceived.”

“You have truly, and by as arrant an impostor as ever lived, and as bold
a one. This comes of the Governor receiving men into his family, without
credentials of any sort; but I need not say any thing of his Excellency, for
this man imposed as bold a piece of clumsy swindling upon me as any one,
and is actually now in possession of monies belonging to my aunt's estate.”

Ellen rose to take her leave, from which Mr. Lee endeavored to persuade
her, saying that he had far more important matters to discuss with her, than
the clumsy tricks of an every day impostor; but she pleaded her deep mortification,

and the confused state of her mind, from the perplexing doubts which
still crowded upon her, and that she needed repose and that calm reflection
which solitude alone could give. As she slowly mounted the staire, she
thought of the letter which Hall had brought her, and from whom, and was
on the point of rushing back into the room, and telling Lee that she would
rather doubt him than Hall; but such was his high standing for a man of honor
and veracity, that she did not dare thus to brave the pet of public opinion. She
resumed her way, the same train of reflections still forcing themselves upon
her mind—how could he (Hall) know all the delicate and intricate matters
which he had related to her, if he was the gross and vulgar impostor, that
Mr. Lee represented him to be. Her reason was almost bewildered by these
conflicting views—between the internal evidence of truth in Hall's narrative
to her, and Lee's positive testimony as to his gross and ungentlemanly statement
with regard to herself. In whatever manner he might have possessed
the information alluded to, if Lee's statement was true, he was undoubtedly
some low creature.

Any sagacious observer of human nature will readily divine on which side
the victory lay. Ellen was all a woman, and of course the heart won the
day against the judgment. Nevertheless her indignation every now and then
burst out, whenever she thought of the manner in which he had perverted her
acts and spoken of them. Whatever might be her heart's leaning to the
accused, she resolved that nothing of it should appear in her conduct; that
she would show him that she knew and scorned his assumptions. Such was
about the confused and doubtful result arrived at, when her maid entered to
prepare her for dinner.

In the mean time Lee had not been idle—he next sent for Lady Spotswood,
and to her and Dorothea he related a somewhat similar story, suppressing
particulars in Ellen's case, barely referring them to her for proof of base
ingratitude, as well as falsehood. He found all the ladies prepossessed in the
Tutor's favor, and Dorothea remained so, in spite of all he could say to the
contrary. Of course she did not presume to controvert her mother's decision
in a grave matter like that, in the absence of her father too, but she left the
room tossing her head, and declaring that there was a mistake somewhere.

Lady Spotswood held a long consultation with the accuser with regard to
what was to be done until his Excellency returned, and whether it was best
to send after him; and they came to the conclusion to let the business stand
just as it was; only that all intercourse between the ladies of the family and
the Tutor was to be cut off, except, of course, at table; and ladies generally
understand full well how to keep improper persons at a distance.

Reader, did'st ever see some poor wight who had fallen under the displeasure
of a party in the country, sitting apart? If you have, you can form some
idea of the situation of Hall that day at Temple Farm.

Dorothea encountered young Dandridge as she made her exit from the
family council, and to him she related the story of the Tutor's reputed perfidy.
Little Bob, too, formed one of the youthful council, and the three came to the
unanimous conclusion that he was innocent. How slow is the young heart
to believe in the guilt of those for whom they have taken a liking; and with
all of us, even of maturer age, how easy to believe what we wish to believe.

Bob took his hat straightway and followed his Tutor to the fields where he
had lately seen him. The young man seemed to understand the warmth of
heart which had brought his pupil upon his errand of love, and he silently
folded the lad in his arms, while scalding tears trickled from his scarred face.
The child was dumb at this sight, his own heart was overflowing, and had
any more been wanting, the finishing stroke was added to his convictions.
He took the hand of the Tutor and silently and slowly accompanied him to
the house.

Dinner was soon after announced and Hall took his seat as usual, entirely
unaware of the extent of the prejudices which had been excited against him.
His own countenance exhibited traces of excitement which would have
claimed the sympathy of any company not previously set against him.
There was inexpressible sadness, almost despair, marked upon every feature;
but he had yet to experience a far greater degree of suffering. In that pale
and beautiful face in which he hoped to find sympathy and comfort, he encountered
nothing but scorn and indignation. Not a word was vouchsafed to him
of any sort, and when her eyes met his, it was the cold glance of a distant
acquaintance. He turned an inquiring look towards her Ladyship, and there
he met the same cold displeasure. The conversation was carried on between
her Ladyship, Lee, and Ellen, as if the poor Tutor had been still in Scotland.
Not so, however, the youthful three—Dandridge, Dorothea, and Bob, vied with
each other in helping their favorite to the choice dishes, but he ate nothing.
Altogether it was a very unpleasant meeting. Most of the guests had
departed, except those specially named, and among the others the Indian
Chief, so that there was no relief to be found in numbers.

The meal concluded, Ellen hurried to her room and burst into tears; she
was soon followed by Dorothea, who exclaimed when she saw her weeping,
“I'm glad of it, I'm right down glad of it, so I am, you ought to cry your eyes
out, so you ought, for treating poor Mr. Hall so naughtily.”

“But Dorothea,” said Ellen 'midst her sobs, “how could I help it?”

“Why, slapped Mr. Lee's face and told him to go home about his business.
Didn't he make all this mischief here. Harry Lee will take the house, plantation
and all, if papa don't soon come home.”

“Fie, fie, Dorothea, Mr. Lee is not to blame for Mr. Hall's faults.”

“I tell you, Ellen, it's Mr. Lee who has the beam in his own eye, and he
has swallowed one too for what I know, he's so stiff.”

The little girl flirted out of the room in the pouts, little imagining that she
left behind her, in the heart of the other, a warmer advocate even than herself
in favor of the Tutor.