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3. CHAPTER III.
“Come, these are no times to think of dreams—
We'll talk of dreams hereafter.”
Shakspeare.
The day succeeding that in which the conversation
just mentioned occurred, was one of great expectation
and delight in the Wigwam. Mrs. Hawker and
the Bloomfields were expected, and the morning passed
away rapidly, under the gay buoyancy of the feelings
that usually accompany such anticipations in a
country-house. The travellers were to leave town the
previous evening, and, though the distance was near
two hundred and thirty miles, they were engaged to
arrive by the usual dinner hour. In speed, the Americans,
so long as they follow the great routes, are
unsurpassed; and even Sir George Templemore,
coming, as he did, from a country of MacAdamized
roads and excellent posting, expressed his surprise,
when given to understand that a journey of this
length, near a hundred miles of which were by land,
moreover, was to be performed in twenty-four hours,
the stops included.
“One particularly likes this rapid travelling,” he
remarked, “when it is to bring us such friends as Mrs.
Hawker.”
“And Mrs. Bloomfield,” added Eve, quickly. “I
“More so, than on Mrs. Hawker, Miss Effingham?”
“Not in all that is amiable, respectable, feminine,
and lady-like; but certainly more so, in the way of
mind. I know, Sir George Templemore, as a European,
what your opinion is of our sex in this country.”
“Good heaven, my dear Miss Effingham! — My
opinion of your sex, in America! It is impossible for
any one to entertain a higher opinion of your countrywomen—as
I hope to show—as, I trust, my respect
and admiration have always proved—nay, Powis, you,
as an American, will exonerate me from this want of
taste—judgment—feeling—”
Paul laughed, but told the embarrassed and really
distressed baronet, that he should leave him in the very
excellent hands into which he had fallen.
“You see that bird, that is sailing so prettily above
the roofs of the village,” said Eve, pointing with her
parasol in the direction she meant; for the three were
walking together on the little lawn, in waiting for the
appearance of the expected guests; “and I dare say
you are ornithologist enough to tell its vulgar name.”
“You are in the humour to be severe this morning
—the bird is but a common swallow.”
“One of which will not make a summer, as every
one knows. Our cosmopolitism is already forgotten,
and with it, I fear, our frankness.”
“Since Powis has hoisted his national colours, I do
not feel as free on such subjects as formerly,” returned
Sir George, smiling. “When I thought I had a secret
ally in him, I was not afraid to concede a little in such
things, but his avowal of his country has put me on
my guard. In no case, however, shall I admit my insensibility
to the qualities of your countrywomen. Powis,
as a native, may take that liberty; but, as for myself,
I shall insist they are, at least, the equals of any
females I know.”
“In naivete, prettiness, delicacy of appearance, simplicity,
and sincerity—”
“In sincerity, think you, dear Miss Effingham?”
“In sincerity, above all things, dear Sir George
Templemore. Sincerity—nay, frankness is the last
quality I should think of denying them.”
“But to return to Mrs. Bloomfield—she is clever,
exceedingly clever, I allow; in what is her cleverness
to be distinguished from that of one of her sex,
on the other side of the ocean?”
“In nothing, perhaps, did there exist no differences
in national characteristics. Naples and New-York are
in the same latitude, and yet, I think you will agree
with me, that there is little resemblance in their populations.”
“I confess I do not understand the allusion—are
you quicker witted, Powis?”
“I will not say that,” answered Paul; “but I think
I do comprehend Miss Effingham's meaning. You
have travelled enough to know, that, as a rule, there
is more aptitude in a southern, than in a northern people.
They receive impressions more readily, and are
quicker in all their perceptions.”
“I believe this to be true; but, then, you will allow
that they are less constant, and have less perseverance?”
“In that we are agreed, Sir George Templemore,”
resumed Eve, “though we might differ as to the cause.
The inconstancy of which you speak, is more connected
with moral than physical causes, perhaps, and
we, of this region, might claim an exemption from some
of them. But, Mrs. Bloomfield is to be distinguished
from her European rivals, by a frame so singularly
feminine as to appear fragile, a delicacy of exterior,
that, were it not for that illumined face of hers, might
indicate a general feebleness, a sensitiveness and quickness
of intellect that amount almost to inspiration; and,
yet all is balanced by a practical common sense, that
friend. This latter quality causes you sometimes to
doubt her genius, it is so very homely and available.
Now it is in this, that I think the American woman,
when she does rise above mediocrity, is particularly
to be distinguished from the European. The latter,
as a genius, is almost always in the clouds, whereas,
Mrs. Bloomfield, in her highest flights, is either all
heart, or all good sense. The nation is practical, and
the practical qualities get to be imparted even to its
highest order of talents.”
“The English women are thought to be less excitable,
and not so much under the influence of sentimentalism,
as some of their continental neighbours.”
“And very justly—but—”
“But, what, Miss Effingham—there is, in all this, a
slight return to the cosmopolitism, that reminds me of
our days of peril and adventure. Do not conceal a
thought, if you wish to preserve that character.”
“Well, to be sincere, I shall say that your women
live under a system too sophisticated and factitious to
give fair play to common sense, at all times. What,
for instance, can be the habitual notions of one, who,
professing the doctrines of Christianity, is accustomed
to find money placed so very much in the ascendant,
as to see it daily exacted in payment for the very first
of the sacred offices of the church? It would be as rational
to contend that a mirror which had been cracked
into radii, by a bullet, like those we have so often seen
in Paris, would reflect faithfully, as to suppose a mind
familiarized to such abuses would be sensitive on practical
and common sense things.”
“But, my dear Miss Effingham, this is all habit.”
“I know it is all habit, Sir George Templemore,
and a very bad habit it is. Even your devoutest clergymen
get so accustomed to it, as not to see the capital
mistake they make. I do not say it is absolutely
sinful, where there is no compulsion; but, I hope you
ought to be so sensitive on such a subject, as
to refuse even the little offerings for baptisms, that it
is the practice of the wealthy of this country to make.”
“I agree with you entirely, for it would denote a
more just perception of the nature of the office they
are performing; and they who wish to give can always
make occasions.”
“A hint might be taken from Franklin, who is said
to have desired his father to ask a blessing on the pork-barrel,
by way of condensation,” put in John Effingham,
who joined them as he spoke, and who had heard
a part of the conversation. “In this instance, an average
might be struck in the marriage fee, that should
embrace all future baptisms. But here comes neighbour
Howel to favour us with his opinion. Do you
like the usages of the English church, as respects baptisms,
Howel?”
“Excellent, the best in the world, John Effingham.”
“Mr. Howel is so true an Englishman,” said Eve,
shaking hands cordially with their well-meaning neighbour,
“that he would give a certificate in favour of
polygamy, if it had a British origin.”
“And is not this a more natural sentiment for an
American than that which distrusts so much, merely
because it comes from the little island?” asked Sir
George, reproachfully.
“That is a question I shall leave Mr. Howel himself
to answer.”
“Why, Sir George,” observed the gentleman alluded
to, “I do not attribute my respect for your country,
in the least, to origin. I endeavour to keep myself
free from all sorts of prejudices. My admiration of
England arises from conviction, and I watch all her
movements with the utmost jealousy, in order to see
if I cannot find her tripping, though I feel bound to say
I have never yet detected her in a single error. What
a very different picture, France—I hope your governess
she was born a French woman, and we would not
wish to hurt her feelings—but what a different picture
France presents! I have watched her narrowly too,
these forty years, I may say, and I have never yet
found her right; and this, you must allow, is a great
deal to be said by one who is thoroughly impartial.”
“This is a terrible picture, indeed, Howel, to come
from an unprejudiced man,” said John Effingham;
“and I make no doubt Sir George Templemore will
have a better opinion of himself for ever after—he for
a valiant lion, and you for a true prince. But yonder
is the `exclusive extra,' which contains our party.”
The elevated bit of lawn on which they were walking
commanded a view of the road that led into the
village, and the travelling vehicle engaged by Mrs.
Hawker and her friends, was now seen moving along
it at a rapid pace. Eve expressed her satisfaction,
and then all resumed their walk, as some minutes must
still elapse previously to the arrival.
“Exclusive extra!” repeated Sir George; “that is
a peculiar phrase, and one that denotes any thing but
democracy.”
“In any other part of the world a thing would be
sufficiently marked, by being `extra,' but here it requires
the addition of `exclusive,' in order to give it the
`tower stamp,”' said John Effingham, with a curl of
his handsome lip. “Any thing may be as exclusive as
it please, provided it bear the public impress. A stage-coach
being intended for every body, why, the more
exclusive it is, the better. The next thing we shall
hear of will be exclusive steamboats, exclusive rail-roads,
and both for the uses of the exclusive people.”
Sir George now seriously asked an explanation of
the meaning of the term, when Mr. Howel informed
him that an `extra' in America meant a supernumerary
coach, to carry any excess of the ordinary number
of passengers; whereas an `exclusive extra' meant a
coach expressly engaged by a particular individual.
“The latter, then, is American posting,” observed
Sir George.
“You have got the best idea of it that can be given,”
said Paul. “It is virtually posting with a coachman,
instead of postillions, few persons in this country,
where so much of the greater distances is done by
steam, using their own travelling carriages. The
American `exclusive extra' is not only posting, but, in
many of the older parts of the country, it is posting
of a very good quality.”
“I dare say, now, this is all wrong, if we only knew
it,” said the simple-minded Mr. Howel. “There is
nothing exclusive in England, ha, Sir George?”
Every body laughed except the person who put this
question, but the rattling of wheels and the tramping
of horses on the village bridge, announced the near
approach of the travellers. By the time the party had
reached the great door in front of the house, the carriage
was already in the grounds, and at the next moment,
Eve was in the arms of Mrs. Bloomfield. It
was apparent, at a glance, that more than the expected
number of guests was in the vehicle; and as its contents
were slowly discharged, the spectators stood around
it, with curiosity, to observe who would appear.
The first person that descended, after the exit of
Mrs. Bloomfield, was Captain Truck, who, however,
instead of saluting his friends, turned assiduously to
the door he had just passed through, to assist Mrs.
Hawker to alight. Not until this office had been done,
did he even look for Eve; for, so profound was the
worthy captain's admiration and respect for this venerable
lady, that she actually had got to supplant our
heroine, in some measure, in his heart. Mr. Bloomfield
appeared next, and an exclamation of surprise
and pleasure proceeded from both Paul and the baronet,
as they caught a glimpse of the face of the last
of the travellers that got out.
“Ducie!” cried Sir George. “This is even better
than we expected.”
“Ducie!” added Paul, “you are several days before
the expected time, and in excellent company.”
The explanation, however, was very simple. Captain
Ducie had found the facilities for rapid motion
much greater than he had expected, and he reached
Fort Plain, in the eastward cars, as the remainder of
the party arrived in the westward. Captain Truck,
who had met Mrs. Hawker's party in the river boat,
had been intrusted with the duty of making the arrangements,
and recognizing Captain Ducie, to their
mutual surprise, while engaged in this employment,
and ascertaining his destination, the latter was very
cordially received into the “exclusive extra.”
Mr. Effingham welcomed all his guests with the
hospitality and kindness for which he was distinguished.
We are no great admirers of the pretension to peculiar
national virtues, having ascertained, to our own satisfaction,
by tolerably extensive observation, that the
moral difference between men is of no great amount;
but we are almost tempted to say, on this occasion,
that Mr. Effingham received his guests with American
hospitality; for if there be one quality that this people
can claim to possess in a higher degree than that of
most other christian nations, it is that of a simple, sincere,
confiding hospitality. For Mrs. Hawker, in common
with all who knew her, the owner of the Wigwam
entertained a profound respect; and though his
less active mind did not take as much pleasure as that
of his daughter, in the almost intuitive intelligence of
Mrs. Bloomfield, he also felt for this lady a very friendly
regard. It gave him pleasure to see Eve surrounded
by persons of her own sex, of so high a tone of thought
and breeding; a tone of thought and breeding, moreover,
that was as far removed as possible from any
thing strained or artificial: and his welcomes were
cordial in proportion. Mr. Bloomfield was a quiet,
sensible, gentleman-like man, whom his wife fervently
loved, without making any parade of her attachment;
himself agreeable wherever he went. Captain Ducie,
who, Englishman-like, had required some urging to be
induced to present himself before the precise hour
named in his own letter, and who had seriously contemplated
passing several days in a tavern, previously
to showing himself at the Wigwam, was agreeably disappointed
at a reception, that would have been just as
frank and warm, had he come without any notice at
all: for the Effinghams knew that the usages which sophistication
and a crowded population perhaps render
necessary in older countries, were not needed in their
own; and then the circumstance that their quondam
pursuer was so near a kinsman of Paul Powis', did not
fail to act essentially in his favour.
“We can offer but little, in these retired mountains,
to interest a traveller and a man of the world, Captain
Ducie, “said Mr. Effingham, when he went to pay his
compliments more particularly, after the whole party
was in the house; “but there is a common interest in
our past adventures to talk about, after all other topics
fail. When we met on the ocean, and you deprived us
so unexpectedly of our friend Powis, we did not know
that you had the better claim of affinity to his company.”
Captain Ducie coloured slightly, but he made his answer
with a proper degree of courtesy and gratitude.
“It is very true,” he added, “Powis and myself are
relatives, and I shall place all my claims to your hospitality
to his account; for I feel that I have been
the unwilling cause of too much suffering to your party,
to bring with me any very pleasant recollections, notwithstanding
your kindness in including me as a friend,
in the adventures of which you speak.”
“Dangers that are happily past, seldom bring very
unpleasant recollections, more especially when they
were connected with scenes of excitement. I understand,
sir, that the unhappy young man, who was the
of the law, by destroying himself.”
“He was his own executioner, and the victim of a
silly weakness that, I should think, your state of society
was yet too young and simple to encourage. The idle
vanity of making an appearance, a vanity, by the way,
that seldom besets gentlemen, or the class to which it
may be thought more properly to belong, ruins hundreds
of young men in England, and this poor creature was
of the number. I never was more rejoiced than when
he quitted my ship, for the sight of so much weakness
sickened one of human nature. Miserable as his fate
proved to be, and pitiable as his condition really was,
while in my charge, his case has the alleviating circumstance
with me, of having made me acquainted
with those whom it might not otherwise have been
my good fortune to meet!”
This civil speech was properly acknowledged, and
Mr. Effingham addressed himself to Captain Truck, to
whom, in the hurry of the moment, he had not yet said
half that his feelings dictated.
“I am rejoiced to see you under my roof, my worthy
friend,” taking the rough hand of the old seaman
between his own whiter and more delicate fingers, and
shaking it with cordiality, “for this is being under my
roof, while those town residences have less the air of
domestication and familiarity. You will spend many
of your holidays here, I trust; and when we get a few
years older, we will begin to prattle about the marvels
we have seen in company.”
The eye of Captain Truck glistened, and, as he returned
the shake by another of twice the energy, and the
gentle pressure of Mr. Effingham by a squeeze like
that of a vice, he said in his honest off-hand manner—
“The happiest hour I ever knew was that in which
I discharged the pilot, the first time out, as a ship-master;
the next great event of my life, in the way of happiness,
was the moment I found myself on the deck of
the Montauk, after we had given those greasy Arabs a
I really think this very instant must be set down as the
third. I never knew, my dear sir, how much I truly loved
you and your daughter, until both were out of sight.”
“That is so kind and gallant a speech, that it ought
not to be lost on the person most concerned. Eve, my
love, our worthy friend has just made a declaration
which will be a novelty to you, who have not been
much in the way of listening to speeches of this nature.”
Mr. Effingham then acquainted his daughter with
what Captain Truck had just said.
“This is certainly the first declaration of the sort
I ever heard, and with the simplicity of an unpractised
young woman, I here avow that the attachment
is reciprocal,” said the smiling Eve. “If there is an
indiscretion in this hasty acknowledgement, it must be
ascribed to surprise, and to the suddenness with which
I have learned my power, for your parvenues are not
always perfectly regulated.”
“I hope Mamselle V. A. V. is well,” returned the
Captain, cordially shaking the hand the young lady had
given him, “and that she enjoys herself to her liking
in this outlandish country?”
“Mademoiselle Viefville will return you her thanks
in person, at dinner; and I believe she does not yet
regret la belle France unreasonably; as I regret it myself,
in many particulars, it would be unjust not to permit
a native of the country some liberty in that way.”
“I perceive a strange face in the room—one of the
family, my dear young lady?”
“Not a relative, but a very old friend.—Shall I have
the pleasure of introducing you, Captain?”
“I hardly dared to ask it, for I know you must have
been overworked in this way, lately, but I confess I
should like an introduction; I have neither introduced,
nor been introduced since I left New-York, with the
exception of the case of Captain Ducie, whom I made
properly acquainted with Mrs. Hawker and her party,
as you may suppose. They know each other regularly
through the ceremony yourself.”
“And how is it with you and the Bloomfields? Did
Mrs. Hawker name you to them properly?”
“That is the most extraordinary thing of the sort I
ever knew! Not a word was said in the way of introduction,
and yet I slid into an acquaintance with Mrs.
Bloomfield so easily, that I could not tell how it was
done, if my life depended on it. But this very old
friend of yours, my dear young lady—”
“Captain Truck, Mr. Howel; Mr. Howel, Captain
Truck;” said Eve, imitating the most approved manner
of the introductory spirit of the day with admirable
self-possession and gravity. “I am fortunate in
having it in my power to make two persons whom I
so much esteem acquainted.”
“Captain Truck is the gentleman who commands
the Montauk?” said Mr. Howel, glancing at Eve, as
much as to say, “am I right?”
“The very same, and the brave seaman to whom
we are all indebted for the happiness of standing here
at this moment.”
“You are to be envied, Captain Truck; of all the
men in your calling, you are exactly the one I should
most wish to supplant. I understand you actually go
to England twice every year!”
“Three times, sir, when the winds permit. I have
even seen the old island four times, between January
and January.”
“What a pleasure! It must be the very acme of
navigation to sail between America and England!”
“It is not unpleasant, sir, from April to November,
but the long nights, thick weather, and heavy winds
knock off a good deal of the satisfaction for the rest
of the year.”
“But I speak of the country; of old England itself;
not of the passages.”
“Well, England has what I call a pretty fair coast.
of what account is either coast or lights, if the weather
is so thick, you cannot see the end of your flying-jib-boom!”
“Mr. Howel alludes more particularly to the country,
inland,” said Eve; “to the towns, the civilization,
and the other proofs of cultivation and refinement. To
the government, especially.”
“In my judgment, sir, the government is much too
particular about tobacco, and some other trifling things
I could name. Then it restricts pennants to King's
ships, whereas, to my notion, my dear young lady, a
New-York packet is as worthy of wearing a pennant
as any vessel that floats. I mean, of course, ships of
the regular European lines, and not the Southern
traders.”
“But these are merely spots on the sun, my good
sir,” returned Mr. Howel; “putting a few such trifles
out of the question, I think you will allow that England
is the most delightful country in the world?”
“To be frank with you, Mr. Howel, there is a good
deal of hang-dog weather, along in October, November
and December. I have known March any thing
but agreeable, and then April is just like a young girl
with one of your melancholy novels, now smiling, and
now blubbering.”
“But the morals of the country, my dear sir; the
moral features of England must be a source of never-dying
delight to a true philanthropist,” resumed Mr.
Howel, as Eve, who perceived that the discourse was
likely to be long, went to join the ladies. “An
Englishman has most reason to be proud of the moral
excellencies of his country!”
“Why, to be frank with you, Mr. Howel, there are
some of the moral features of London, that are any
thing but very beautiful. If you could pass twenty-four
hours in the neighbourhood of St. Catharine's,
you would see sights that would throw Templeton
allow; but their morality is none of the best-featured.”
“Let us be seated, sir; I am afraid we are not
exactly agreed on our terms, and, in order that we
may continue this subject, I beg you will let me take
a seat next you, at table.”
To this Captain Truck very cheerfully assented,
and then the two took chairs, continuing the discourse
very much in the blind and ambiguous manner in
which it had been commenced; the one party insisting
on seeing every thing through the medium of an imagination
that had got to be diseased on such subjects,
or with a species of monomania; while the other
seemed obstinately determined to consider the entire
country as things had been presented to his limited
and peculiar experience, in the vicinity of the docks.
“We have had a very unexpected, and a very
agreeable attendant in Captain Truck,” said Mrs.
Hawker, when Eve had placed herself by her side,
and respectfully taken one of her hands. “I really
think if I were to suffer shipwreck, or to run the hazard
of captivity, I should choose to have both occur
in his good company.”
“Mrs. Hawker makes so many conquests,” observed
Mrs. Bloomfield, “that we are to think nothing of her
success with this mer-man; but what will you say,
Miss Effingham, when you learn that I am also in
favour, in the same high quarter. I shall think the
better of masters, and boatswains, and Trinculos and
Stephanos, as long as I live, for this specimen of their
craft.”
“Not Trinculos and Stephanos, dear Mrs. Bloomfield;
for, à l' exception pres de Saturday-nights, and
sweet-hearts and wives, a more exemplary person in
the way of libations does not exist than our excellent
Captain Truck. He is much too religious and moral
for so vulgar an excess as drinking.”
“Religious!” exclaimed Mrs. Bloomfield, in surprise.
possessed the smallest claims. One might imagine a
little superstition, and some short-lived repentances in
gales of wind; but scarcely any thing as much like a
trade wind, as religion!”
“Then you do not know him; for a more sincerely
devout man, though I acknowledge it is after a fashion
that is perhaps peculiar to the ocean, is not often met
with. At any rate, you found him attentive to our
sex?”
“The pink of politeness, and, not to embellish, there is
a manly deference about him, that is singularly agreeable
to our frail vanity. This comes of his packet-training,
I suppose, and we may thank you for some
portion of his merit. His tongue never tires in your
praises, and did I not feel persuaded that your mind is
made up never to be the wife of any republican American,
I should fear this visit exceedingly. Notwithstanding
the remark I made concerning my being in
favour, the affair lies between Mrs. Hawker and yourself.
I know it is not your habit to trifle even on that
very popular subject with young ladies, matrimony;
but this case forms so complete an exception to the
vulgar passion, that I trust you will overlook the indiscretion.
Our golden captain, for copper he is not,
protests that Mrs. Hawker is the most delightful old
lady he ever knew, and that Miss Eve Effingham is
the most delightful young lady he ever knew. Here,
then, each may see the ground she occupies, and play
her cards accordingly. I hope to be forgiven for
touching on a subject so delicate.”
“In the first place,” said Eve, smiling, “I should
wish to hear Mrs. Hawker's reply.”
“I have no more to say, than to express my perfect
gratitude,” answered that lady, “to announce a
determination not to change my condition, on account
of extreme youth, and a disposition to abandon the
field to my younger, if not fairer, rival.”
“Well, then,” resumed Eve, anxious to change the
subject, for she saw that Paul was approaching their
group, “I believe it will be wisest in me to suspend
a decision, circumstances leaving so much at
my disposal. Time must show what that decision
will be.”
“Nay,” said Mrs. Bloomfield, who saw no feeling
involved in the trifling, “this is unjustifiable coquetry,
and I feel bound to ascertain how the land lies. You
will remember I am the Captain's confidant, and you
know the fearful responsibility of a friend in an affair
of this sort; that of a friend in the duello being insignificant
in comparison. That I may have testimony
at need, Mr. Powis shall be made acquainted with the
leading facts. Captain Truck is a devout admirer of
this young lady, sir, and I am endeavouring to discover
whether he ought to hang himself on her father's
lawn, this evening, as soon as the moon rises, or live
another week. In order to do this, I shall pursue the
categorical and inquisitorial method—and so defend
yourself Miss Effingham. Do you object to the country
of your admirer?”
Eve, though inwardly vexed at the turn this pleasantry
had taken, maintained a perfectly composed
manner, for she knew that Mrs. Bloomfield had too
much feminine propriety to say any thing improper, or
any thing that might seriously embarrass her.
“It would, indeed, be extraordinary, should I object
to a country which is not only my own, but which has
so long been that of my ancestors,” she answered
steadily. “On this score, my knight has nothing to
fear.”
“I rejoice to hear this,” returned Mrs. Bloomfield,
glancing her eyes, unconsciously to herself, however,
towards Sir George Templemore, “and, Mr. Powis,
you, who I believe are a European, will learn humility
in the avowal. Do you object to your swain that he
is a seaman?”
Eve blushed, notwithstanding a strong effort to appear
composed, and, for the first time since their acquaintance,
she felt provoked with Mrs. Bloomfield.
She hesitated before she answered in the negative,
and this too in a way to give more meaning to her
reply, although nothing could be farther from her intentions.
“The happy man may then be an American and a
seaman! Here is great encouragement. Do you
object to sixty?”
“In any other man I should certainly consider it a
blemish, as my own dear father is but fifty.”
Mrs. Bloomfield was struck with the tremor in the
voice, and with the air of embarrassment, in one who
usually was so easy and collected; and with feminine
sensitiveness she adroitly abandoned the subject, though
she often recurred to this stifled emotion in the course
of the day, and from that moment she became a silent
observer of Eve's deportment with all her father's
guests.
“This is hope enough for one day,” she said, rising;
“the profession and the flag must counterbalance the
years as best they may, and the Truck lives another
revolution of the sun! Mrs. Hawker, we shall be late
at dinner, I see by that clock, unless we retire soon.”
Both the ladies now went to their rooms; Eve, who
was already dressed for dinner, remaining in the drawing-room.
Paul still stood before her, and, like herself,
he seemed embarrassed.
“There are men who would be delighted to hear
even the little that has fallen from your lips in this trifling,”
he said, as soon as Mrs. Bloomfield was out of
hearing. “To be an American and a seaman, then,
are not serious defects in your eyes?”
“Am I to be made responsible for Mrs. Bloomfield's
caprices and pleasantries?”
“By no means; but I do think you hold yourself
responsible for Miss Effingham's truth and sincerity.
far, but scarcely of any direct declaration, that shall
not possess both these high qualities.”
Eve looked up gratefully, for she saw that profound
respect for her character dictated the remark; but
rising, she observed—
“This is making a little badinage about our honest,
lion-hearted, old captain, a very serious affair. And
now, to show you that I am conscious of, and thankful
for, your own compliment, I shall place you on the
footing of a friend to both the parties, and request
you will take Captain Truck into your especial care,
while he remains here. My father and cousin are
both sincerely his friends, but their habits are not so
much those of their guests, as yours will probably be;
and to you, then, I commit him, with a request that
he may miss his ship and the ocean as little as possible.”
“I would I knew how to take this charge, Miss
Effingham!—To be a seaman is not always a recommendation
with the polished, intelligent, and refined.”
“But when one is polished, intelligent, and refined,
to be a seaman is to add one other particular and useful
branch of knowledge to those which are more familiar.
I feel certain Captain Truck will be in good
hands, and now I will go and do my devoirs to my
own especial charges, the ladies.”
Eve bowed as she passed the young man, and she
left the room with as much haste as at all became
her. Paul stood motionless quite a minute after she
had vanished, nor did he awaken from his reverie, until
aroused by an appeal from Captain Truck, to sustain
him, in some of his matter-of-fact opinions concerning
England, against the visionary and bookish notions of
Mr. Howel.
“Who is this Mr. Powis?” asked Mrs. Bloomfield
of Eve, when the latter appeared in her dressing-room,
with an unusual impatience of manner.
“You know, my dear Mrs. Bloomfield, that he was
our fellow-passenger in the Montauk, and that he was
of infinite service to us, in escaping from the Arabs.”
“All this I know, certainly; but he is a European,
is he not?”
Eve scarcely ever felt more embarrassed than in
answering this simple question.
“I believe not; at least, I think not; we thought so
when we met him in Europe, and even until quite
lately; but he has avowed himself a countryman of
our own, since his arrival at Templeton.”
“Has he been here long?”
“We found him in the village on reaching home.
He was from Canada, and has been in waiting for
his cousin, Captain Ducie, who came with you.”
“His cousin!—He has English cousins, then! Mr.
Ducie kept this to himself, with true English reserve.
Captain Truck whispered something of the latter's
having taken out one of his passengers, the Mr. Powis,
the hero of the rocks, but I did not know of his having
found his way back to our—to his country. Is he
as agreeable as Sir George Templemore?”
“Nay, Mrs. Bloomfield, I must leave you to judge
of that for yourself. I think them both agreeable men;
but there is so much caprice in a woman's tastes, that
I decline thinking for others.”
“He is a seaman, I believe,” observed Mrs. Bloomfield,
with an abstracted manner—“he must have been,
to have manœuvred and managed as I have been told
he did. Powis—Powis—that is not one of our names,
neither—I should think he must be from the south.”
Here Eve's habitual truth and dignity of mind did
her good service, and prevented any further betrayal
of embarrassment.
“We do not know his family,” she steadily answered.
“That he is a gentleman, we see; but of his
origin and connections he never speaks.”
“His profession would have given him the notions
although I had thought it the British navy. I do not
know of any Powises in Philadelphia, or Baltimore, or
Richmond, or Charleston; he must surely be from
the interior.”
Eve could scarcely condemn her friend for a curiosity
that had not a little tormented herself, though she
would gladly change the discourse.
“Mr. Powis would be much gratified, did he know
what a subject of interest he has suddenly become
with Mrs. Bloomfield,” she said, smiling.
“I confess it all; to be very sincere, I think him the
most distinguished young man, in air, appearance, and
expression of countenance, I ever saw. When this is
coupled with what I have heard of his gallantry and
coolness, my dear, I should not be woman to feel no
interest in him. I would give the world to know of
what State he is a native, if native, in truth, he be.”
“For that we have his own word. He was born in
this country, and was educated in our own marine.”
“And yet from the little that fell from him, in our
first short conversation, he struck me as being educated
above his profession.”
“Mr. Powis has seen much as a traveller; when
we met him in Europe, it was in a circle particularly
qualified to improve both his mind and his manners.”
“Europe! Your acquaintance did not then commence,
like that with Sir George Templemore, in the
packet?”
“Our acquaintance with neither, commenced in the
packet. My father had often seen both these gentlemen,
during our residences in different parts of Europe.”
“And your father's daughter?”
“My father's daughter, too,” said Eve, laughing.
“With Mr. Powis, in particular, we were acquainted
under circumstances that left a vivid recollection of
as much service to us on one of the Swiss lakes, as
he has subsequently been on the ocean.”
All this was news to Mrs. Bloomfield, and she looked
as if she thought the intelligence interesting. At this
moment the dinner-bell rang, and all the ladies descended
to the drawing-room. The gentlemen were already
assembled, and as Mr. Effingham led Mrs. Hawker
to the table, Mrs. Bloomfield gaily took Eve by the
arm, protesting that she felt herself privileged, the first
day, to take a seat near the young mistress of the
Wigwam.
“Mr. Powis and Sir George Templemore will not
quarrel about the honour,” she said, in a low voice, as
they proceeded towards the table.
“Indeed you are in error, Mrs. Bloomfield; Sir
George Templemore is much better pleased with being
at liberty to sit next my cousin Grace.”
“Can this be so!” returned the other, looking intently
at her young friend.
“Indeed it is so, and I am very glad to be able to
affirm it. How far Miss Van Cortlandt is pleased that
it is so, time must show; but the baronet betrays every
day, and all day, how much he is pleased with her.”
“He is then a man of less taste, and judgment, and
intelligence, than I had thought him.”
“Nay, dearest Mrs. Bloomfield, this is not necessarily
true; or, if true, need it be so openly said?”
“Se non e vero, e ben trovato.”
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