University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

Duncan bore the young lady from the waves, and placed her insensible
in her father's arms as he leaped from his horse.

`My God! she is dead!' exclaimed the old gentleman, as her
pale head fell over lifeless upon his bosom.

`No, sir! She breathes and lives,' said Duncan; `The terror
of the scene has rendered her insensible. She was not wounded
by the hoofs!'

`And yet I saw the stag strike at her fie rcely. Bless you, sir,
for your interference. Isabel! My daughter Bel, my child!
Nay, she hears me not!' cried the father with anguish.

`It is needful to let blood! If you will permit me sir?' said
Duncan diffidently, as he gazed upon the pale, marble, immovable
countenance of the young girl, as she lay in her father's arms, her
head dropped over her shoulder like a lily broken from its stem.

`Are you a surgeon, sir!'

`No, sir; but I have learned the art.'

`Is not this Colonel Dudley's son?'

`Yes, sir.'

I will assist you!' said Judge Sumpter; `I beseech you let
there be no delay.'

Duncan took from his pocket a finely pointed pen-knife, and
with a firm yet careful hand, ripped up the close-fitting sleeve of
the riding habit, exposing a snow-white arm rounded with the
fairest proportions of feminine beauty. He had never been in such
a situation before, and felt strange sensations of awe and tendeness.

`The ribbon of her riding-switch will serve for a ligature,' said
Howard, who now came up from the slaughter of the stag; and
tearing it off he bound it round the arm with a firm hand.

`You are too rude, brother!'

`I have bled rabbits and hounds often,' answered Howard confidently,
`and know how hard to tie it.'

`But a rabbit and a young lady are very different,' answered
Duncan, smiling. `There is a full vein, sir;' he said lifting his
eyes to the anxious face of the father; and then dropping them
upon the pale, lovely countenance of the daughter.

The Judge held the arm while Duncan pressed the vein, and
then prepared to inesrt the point of his pen-knife into the deliate
azure line.

`Your hand I fear is not steady enough, young gentleman,' said
the Judge.

`It shakes like a leaf, brother; give me the knife.'

Again Duncan suspended the knife-point over the beautiful arm
and his heart failed him. He felt that it was sacrilege to mar its
purity, and the beauty of the maiden, and the novelty of his situation
agitated him.

`Take it brother!' he said, transferring the pen-knife to Howard;
who taking it in his fingers, cooly, and with the skill of a
surgeon penetrated the vein. `He could not,' thought Duncan,
`have bled a pet hare with more nonchalance; But Howard's sensibilities
were less lively than Duncan's besides, the beauty of the
maiden had not agitated his nerves as it had done his brother's!

The rich blood flowed freely from the alabaster arm, and trickled
upon the silver sands; and with painful intenseness of hope and fear,
did the father watch the first signs of returning life. What would
not Duncan have given to have held her, as her father did, with
her head resting upon his shoulder; and gazing unreproved down

into her face, as the flitting changes of returning life passed over
the cheek! Gradually animation returned. The eye was unsealed
and gazed round with expression. The chest heaved with
strong efforts to resume its suspended action; and with delighted
ears the happy father heard her lips murmur his name. He pressed
her to his heart with tears of grateful joy; and lifting up his
voice he devoutly gave God thanks for her restoration.

`Forgive me, dear father! I was indeed rash to risk so much and
give you such cause for anxiety.'

`There is nothing to forgive, my dear Bel,' answered the father.
`You are restored to me living! There passed an expression of
pain across your face! Do you suffer?'

`Yes—intensely in the breast! It is over! I recollect the stag
struck me with his hoofs. But what has become of Antelope?
He was struck also.'

`He was killed by a single stroke of the stag's antlers, and there
is his body heaving in shore,' said Howard.

`Poor, dear Antelope! I can never forgive myself for this.'

The sound of his voice seemed for the first time to make her
conscious of the presence of others. She glanced round at Howard,
and gazed a moment steadily upon his fine face; and then her
looks fell upon Duncan, whose deep, expressive eyes met hers and
caused her instantly to droop them, while the blood deepened in
her cheek. Her father now bound up the orifice, and she said she
was so much better that she could walk home.

This Judge Sumpter would not permit, and she suffered herself
to be placed by him and Duncan upon his saddle.

`If you will support her, Mr. Dudley,' he said, `I will carefully
lead the horse.'

With a strange, palpitating sensation at the heart, novel and delightful,
the young man passed his arm around her waist and
walked by her side; while Howard got the saddle and bridle from
the dead horse, which he gave a fisher's boy to carry. He then
gave to some fishermen whom the dangers of the chase along the
sands had brought to the spot, directions to take the stag to Judge
Sumpter's. He then followed the young lady and her party.

For some distance there was no word spoken either by Miss
Sumpter or Duncan. She evidently suffered more than she was
willing to make apparent, and evidently needed all the support of
his arm. He was happy in being permitted the happiness of serving
one so lovely and interesting. From time to time her father
would turn and kindly speak and ask her how she rode; and tell
Duncan to be careful to hold her firmly in the saddle. But he felt
diffident even at the slight pressure he found it necessary to use
in supporting her.

`I will get into the saddle, Judge, and hold her firmly with my
arm around her,' said Howard, who now came up.

Miss Sumpter smiled at his frank speech and free proffer, and
said,

`I fear, sir, Sultan will hardly carry double.

`Never fear, Miss Isebel; he knows what it's for!'

`And pray how do you know I am Miss Isabel?'

`I heard Miss Sumpter was coming to Virginia with her father.
and that she was very beautiful; and as this is Judge Sumpter,
and you are very beautiful, I take it you must be Isabel. Besides,
I recollect your smile. It is just the same as when you were a little
girl, and used to thank me for young squirrels and birds, when
I would give them to you.'

`And are you Howard?' she asked, with a look of animation
and pleasure.

`Yes; and I am very glad you have come home again. It's
dull enough here without any body! Duncan is no company for
me!'

`And do you really expect, Sir Froward, that I am to be a companion
for you in all your forest tramps, and forays by shore and
moor?' asked she, laughing.

Howard looked confused and blushed, and then answered petnlantly,
I forgot you had been in Philadelphia, where country born
girls soon lose their naturalness, and affect to despise the scenes and
pastimes of home! Well, brother Duncan, then, will make an excellent
companion for you. He can be as grave as a quaker, if you
wish it. Look at him now! He looks as if he were— Take
care, brother, you will let Miss Isabel fall with your careless hold
of her! I should think she was glass. That was a fine escape
you had from the deer! Duncan had you in his arms in a moment,
or I believe you would have gone for it!'

`And then I am indebted to you, Mr. Dudley, for my preservation
from the antlers of the stag,' she said, turning and fixing her
fine dark eyes upon him with a look expressive of the deepest gratitude.

`My life would have cheaply purchased your safety, Miss Sumpter,'
replied Duncan with feeling; `but I can lay no claim to any
merit in your preservation. I merely was so fortunate as to save
you from further danger. Permit me, with my brother Howard,
to congratulate you on your return to Virginia.

`I thank you. I should not have recognized you. I only guessed
who you were by hearing my father address you as Mr. Dudley.
You have so altered!' and she surveyed his fine person and
noble, intelligent and now blushing countenance with admiration.
`I will not trouble you to support me longer! I feel very much
better. The pain in my chest is slighter than it was! I shudder
to think in what danger my wild riding after the deer involved me.
It has also killed poor Antelope. Dear father, if you will permit
me to walk I can do very well! Mr. Dudley must be tired holding
me on!'

`By no means, Miss Sumpter! It gives me pleasure! It is a
happiness!' he hurriedly repeated, in a very embarrassed and confused
manner.

`If you will give me your hand I will spring to the ground!
There! That is better! I feel that I can walk very well!'

`Will you lean on my arm?' he asked, tenderly.

`Thank you,' she gracefully replied.

Her father gave her his arm also, while Howard, bounding upon
the horse, galloped on ahead as he said to send the carriage for
them; for they were still half a mile from the house.

Her face was still very pale, and occasionally a shadow of pain
would mingle with the cheerful sun-light of her spirit, as she talked
in a lively manner with her father and the happy Dudley.

Never before had he been thrown thus closely into the society of
a young lady. His sense of admiration for the beautiful in the
sex had before been awakened; but the impression was as fleeting
as the presence of the fair object that produced it. His pulse had
never bounded to the touch of the hand; his blood had never
coursed to his temples at the glance of the eye; nor his soul trembled
with joy at the tones of the voice! But now a new being
seemed to have been created in him. The eye, the touch, the
voice of Miss Sumpter had a singular effect upon him. The sensation
was one of exquisite happiness, and he asked not whence it
came nor its name! When his gaze first fell upon her marble and
lifeless countenance, a piece of divine sculpture beneath his eyes,
he felt tenderness fill his soul which went out towards her with all
its sympathy and kindness! The exquisite finish of her silent and
immoveable beauty made him feel like adoring her. And we have
seen the trembling joy, the gentle fear, the reverential admiration
with which he regarded her, and how his hand refused the office
which was to restore her to life! This was the first unfolding of
love! love as pure and fathomless in its deep strength as his own
soul. But he knew it not!

He asked not whence came the strange, tender trembling delight
that overflowed his heart. He was happy in knowing that the fair
creature leaning upon his arm was its object.

He spoke a little as they walked along. It was complete happiness
to let his ears drink in the sweet tones of her voice whether
addressed to him or her father. At length they reached the entrance
of the ravine from which they had started the stag. A path
or cart road along the gorge wound up to the grounds in front of
the villa of Judge Sumpter. Here they were met by the carriage,
and the young lady was assisted into it.

`Get in, Mr. Dudley,' said the Judge, as Duncan bowed as if retiring;

`You must see us safely home. We can't part so, after
such a morning; and I want to know you and also that gallant
mad-cap brother of yours, who is galloping back again here as if
he was riding against his neck.'

Duncan diffidently complied and got into the carriage. Miss
Sumpter was on the seat immediately before him. He felt awkward
and embarrassed and kept his eyes down, though he felt he
would have given worlds to have been permitted to gaze unseen
upon that pale and lovely face.

Such was the first meeting of Duncan Dudley with Isabel
Sumpter. The following day proved her error in supposing she
was not much hurt; for much pain and fever confined her to her
bed for more than a week. During this period Dudley daily called
to ask after her, and daily sent her gifts of flowers. At length
she left her bed for the easy chair in the drawing-room, and he
was permitted to see her and to congratulate her upon her convalescence.
Isabel Sumpter was at this time just seventeen. She
was a charming creature, with a fine generous temper and great
liveliness of character. She was singularly beautiful, possessing
the dark hair and eyes of the Southron, with all their feminine
grace and enchanting manners. Being early left motherless her
education was somewhat more masculine than it would otherwise
have been. Her father taught her to ride boldly and to love the
chase. Her teachers at the boarding-school performed well their
task of cultivating her heart and mind. She had left school probably
not to return, and had now come to Virginia to remain with
her father.

Warm-hearted and grateful, she felt full of gratitude to Duncan
for his act in rescuing her; and was disposed to regard him with
kindly and friendly favor. But her bosom was yet a stranger to
the deep tumultuous emotions that moved his. She could not
however, remain long insensible to the tender and devoted attention
he bestowed upon her as she convalesced. He anticipated
every wish and consulted every means to contribute to her happiness.
He read to her, sang with her, and almost worshipped
her, in his every look and act.

For a week he had been a daily guest at the mansion, and the
drawing room with its deep bay window overlooking the lawn and
the bay beyond, the trellised woodbine clambering around it and
softening the light, and Isabel seated or reclining within it, half
veiled by the curtain, himself occupying a low taboret at her feet,
was to him a heaven on earth. Insensible, indeed, would have
been the breast of any maiden under the influence of such deep
and ardent devotion. She read his love in the gentle tones of his
voice whenever he replied to a question, in the soft beaming of his
ardent gaze, in the delicacy of his attentions, and the embarrassed
diffidence of his whole manner. Gradually, a kindred feeling
was awakened in her bosom, and the light gaiety of her look
and voice and manner changed. She laughed less loud and merrily
and conversed less. A sweet confusion, a conscious diffidence
was perceptible in her replies and she seldom spoke without blushing
and dropping her eyes; though hitherto she had looked him
so full in the face whenever she addressed him, as to make him
shield his own.

They had been sitting one afternoon together by the window,
the maiden now quite restored to health plying her fair fingers with
a piece of needle work, in which, however, she had made for the
last hour very little progress. Duncan was reading to her and at
every fine passage looking off the page to see its effect upon his
lovely auditor, and often discovering her sympathy in her encountering
glance. Often their lifted glances thus met flashed and fell
stirring each of their young hearts with wild, sweet, fathomless
delight. The afternoon stole insensibly into the dreamy twilight
hours, and the maiden laid her needle-work upon her lap and Duncan
closed his book. Both were silent, gazing through the open
window upon the gleaming waters of the bay—which were suffused
with the roseate reflection of the gold-hued west.

`How full of love and beauty is all this scene,' he said scarce
lifting his voice beyond her ear. `How clear and deep the blue of
the sky beneath yonder cloud of pearl and gold. Deep, deep!
how deep and far beyond the soul's stretch the space the eye traverses.
How the mind that would follow the eye that finds no
rest, and out-going it would still fly on and on seeking for a shore,
falls back upon itself?'

`I have had that feeling! It is painful and terrible!' answered
Miss Sumpter; `it shows us the finite bounds of our being. The
infinitive in space or time can be comprehended only by God!—
Yet we feel sad that it marks our penetrating eye and flies still beyond
our mental wing! How difficult to conceive space out-stretching
there before us that has no bound! A centre without a circumference!
When I suffer my thoughts to wander on such
themes, I feel a sensation wholly indescribable. It is as if my
soul were being annihilated.'

`Such feelings are natural to all,' answered Duncan; and it is
dangerous to let the mind cherish them. The attempt to measure
the infinite is an impious assumption of Almighty attributes. It
brings with it its own punishment. I knew a young man in college
who loved to dwell upon such incomprehensible subjects, until
over-tasking his mind in endeavoring to comprehend and trace to
`the beginning' an unoriginated First Cause, he lost his reason and
is now insane!'

`Then let us not dwell on such themes! There is to me, I must
confess, a strange fascination in those subjects, and I have felt as
if I should go mad if I understood them not! But let us talk no
more in this manner! Eternity is before us to learn and know all
these things that perplex us here! Let us enjoy and appropriate
that we can understand; and such is nature with its varied and
glorious beauty! How mellow is all the air, and what a gentle
influence is shed around us in this evening hour. The leaves stir
in the idle breeze and seem to live; and the clouds sail like barks
along the azure ocean; and the waves of the bay dance and tumble
together as if they had life! And yonder white sail! how beautiful
it decks the horizon like a sea bird resting on its wing!'

`There is beauty enough on earth to fill the heart, Isabel, if the
heart would open itself to receive it. There is no unhappiness, no
evil but in ourselves! Nature ever looks and speaks kindly to us;
and bids us forget our griefs and partake of her joys.'

`Yes, God has done his part to secure our happiness here; and
it only remains for us to do our part by accepting and enjoying
what his bounty and love have bestowed! But not satisfied with
His gifts we are ever inventing happiness for ourselves; which
like all human inventions is, when done, mixed up with much evil.
Yet we are so in love with our own works, that we love these ways
we have sought out, better than those God has marked out for us.
He who can truly love God's works is truly wise and happy!'

`I am surprised, I must confess, Miss Sumpter, to find one so
young converse so sensibly and thoughfully upon such subjects.
I shall ever esteem it the happiest event of my life, the privilege of
becoming acquainted with you.'

`This assurance is most gratifying,' said the young man.' `I do
indeed appreciate your noble and thoughtful character, and cannot
feel too happy at the consciousness of being able to understand
you. But, dear Isabel,'—here he checked his words as if he had
forgotten himself, and, deeply blushing, said, confused and hurriedly,—`Pardon
me, Miss Sumpter! I betrayed my deep interest
in you without reflection. Forgive me! It was the impulse of
the heart!—of a heart, permit me to say,' he continued, gathering
confidence as he saw her sit with her eyes cast down, and her vesture
heaving with emotion, `that is wholly yours!'

He waited with a throbbing heart for a reply. She remained
silent, but deeply agitated. He knelt by her and looked up into
her face with a cheek pale with his intense feeling. He strove to
read in the downcast look and changing cheek of the maiden, the
answer to his hopes and fears! He took her hand. It lay passive
in his own. He raised it to press it to his lips, and fearing to offend,
let it fall; when, looking up, he met her eyes! They were
full of a merry light, and a smile played roguishly about her sweet
mouth. Instantly the solemnity and serious aspect his love had

put on, vanished before the radiance of her sunny countenance,
and smiling at his own fears, and with his heart bounding with
hope and joy, he arose from his kneeling posture at her feet, and
folded her to his heart.

This was spoken with an earnestness so unusual to the young
student, that Isabel fixed steadily upon him a moment her dark
eyes; but meeting his own deep gaze, she turned them away,
while she said with a richer hue on her cheek, and in a tone not
wholly free from a slight tremor of feeling,

`I cannot think you would say this, for the purpose of merely
complimenting me, and feel grateful for your words. It is a pleasure
to us all to know that we are regarded with kindness, and
that our society, however indifferent it may be, contributes in any
degree to the enjoyment of another. It is a happiness to feel that
one is appreciated; and I feel that you appreciate me.'

Thus love had silently but surely been growing up in the heart
of the maiden, and in the hour of his confession her soul responded
to his. Scarcely had the happy Duncan released the blushing,
struggling girl, when a sound in the shrubbery close by the win
dow caused them to assume a quiet composure which neither felt
at such a moment. Belt, Howard's greyhound, the next moment
bounded upon the lawn and leaped into the window. To conceal
her confusion and her gladness at the consciousness of being loved
by Duncan, Isabel bent over the beautiful animal to caress him.

`Howard cannot be far off,' said Duncan, trying to affect indifference,
which, after what had passed, he was far from doing successfully,
if we may judge from his heightened color, and brilliant
joy-dancing eyes; and as he spoke he removed his seat from the
low taboret at her feet to a chair a little farther off. Howard at
the next moment made his appearance with his double-barrelled
gun in his hand, and a snow-white sea-gull dangling by the wing
in his hand.

`I thought I should find you here, sitting both of you like two
mopes, when the free air, the free sky, and the free wide woods
are all out doors! Here is a pretty gull I have shot for you, Isa
bel, he said, standing in the window and holding it by its outspread
pinions before her. It measures full four feet from tip to tip, and
the wings will make a pretty ornament for your mantle-piece!'

`What taste, Howard!' said Isabel laughing; `but it is very
pretty. Poor bird! see the spot of blood on its snowy breast!'

`That is where the buck shot hit him. I thought of you when
I fired, or I should not have troubled him. I would, for myself,
have sooner brought down a pigeon or duck. To-morrow I am
going in my boat to the Hawk's Ledge, where there will be fine
sport. I shall take my lines, as fish are plenty off the rocks.—
Now I want you both to go! Duncan has been good for nothing
since you have been sick, and now you are well you must pay for
keeping him so much from me by going out yourself.'

`It seems to me you are a very positive young gentleman, said
Miss Sumpter with a smile as she gazed on his handsome countenance.
`Suppose I decline going.'

`I shall be very sorry, for I like you very much, and want you
to enjoy yourself,' he said in a gentle, courteous tone that singularly
contrasted his former bold, careless style of addressing her.—
`It is a pity you and brother Duncan should be cooped up here all
day, when there is so much to invite you abroad. Come, put yourself
under my charge, Isabel, and I will be a beau worth half a
dozen of my brother, there, who is laughing and wondering I can
talk so freely with a handsome young lady, and call her Isabel,
when he seems half afraid to raise his eyes to hers, though he'll sit
in a chair two yards distant from her a whole day, as if he was
watching a hare.'

Here the eyes of Isabel and Duncan met, full of meaning; both
blushed and smiled, and the former said playfully:

`Well, Howard, I will go with you in the boat, provided you
will make a sailor of me. But I insist, on the outset, you are not
to make me climb cliffs after hawk's nests.'

`No; but I will do it for you, and make you a present of a nest
of young hawks, to bring home. Brother Duncan will perhaps try
and find you a cooing dove's nest, also,' he said. `Would'nt you
like one, Miss Isabel?'

`You are as mischievous as you are—'

`What?' he asked archly.

`Handsome, I was going to say, but I won't.'

Howard colored, and looked a little confused, and Duncan felt
a pang from some unpleasant sensation that these few words awakened,
dart through his bosom.

The presence of Judge Sumpter, who at this moment rode up
and alighted at the door, turned the conversation into other channels,
and in a few moments the party retired from the window to
tea.