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4. CHAPTER IV.

The Agent's Letter and Frank's Drafts. Grace receives a Letter
from Frank. The Result. Her noble Reply
.

Three weeks elapsed after the arrival of the corvette, during which time
the anxiety of the parties, so deeply interested in the young midshipman,
became daily more intense. At length one morning as Grace, having secretly
stolen from home, was entering the old mansion of Meadow Farm,
to learn if any news had yet arrived, she encountered Caleb at the door about
to enter. He held a letter in his hand.

`You are from the Post Office, Caleb. What have you?' she asked cagerly.

`A letter, Miss Grace, but 'taint mister Frank's hand write; and he held
it up to her.

`No. It is a strange hand, and also mailed at Boston.

Mrs. Winter appeared and eagerly took the letter into her hands.

`No, it is not from Francis,' she said, disappointed; but it is from my
agent in Boston. Perhaps he has news.'

They entered the house; Mrs. Winter broke the seal and rapidly run over
it, while Grace watched her countenance with intense suspense. She saw
it change to a deadly pale, and then a starding paleness succeed. Her hand
trembled, and tears blinded her.

`What has happened, dear Mrs. Winter? What of Francis?'

`Read, Grace! Read, dear child! I fear that he has fallen into evil habits.
It is news—but news of a painful character to a mother's heart!'

Grace took the letter, and with a beating heart, read as follows:

Dear Madam:—Since I have learned your son's resignation of a midshipman's
berth on account of a duel, I deem it my duty to advise you of certain matters,
touching finances, which I have withheld. I am led to this step from the
contents of a letter, received this morning by him, dated at Marseilles on the 1st
ult. What I wish to state is this. Besides your draft for five hundred dollars,
paid to supply him with funds to take away, he drew on me from Vera Cruz for
five hundred more, which draft I paid, having your instructions to supply him
with money whenever he wrote to this effect. From Havana, three weeks afterwards,
I received another draft at sight for three hundred dollars, which I also
paid. Subsequently I paid a draft from Smyrna for eight hundred dollars,
one from Constantinople for five hundred, and more recently two from Mahon,
one for six and the other for four hundred and fifty dollars; and this morning I
have received a brief letter from him, dated at Marseilles, desiring me to transmit
to him, without delay, two thousand dollars! As this amount will considerably
exceed what I hold at interest, I have concluded to advise you before remitting,
though having full confidence in your ability and willingness to refund
any advances I might make I trust, madam, that your son has not fallen into
evil habits; but the large sams he has drawn, and which could not be expended
on board ship, lead me to suspect he has not been pursuing a course altogether
upright.

I remain, dear madam,
Your obedient servant,

Pratt Parker.

When Grace had finished reading this letter, she silently folded it and remained
a few moments thoughtful. Her countenance was sorrowful, and
tears were swimming in her eyes. Mrs. Winter watched her with anxious
earnestness for a moment and then exclaimed:


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`You think also, Miss Ellingwood, that my poor boy has been erring!'

`I do not know what to say, dear madam. Francis could not possibly
make use of all this money for current expenses.'

`Besides, he had a large outfit. He needed nothing,' said Mrs. Winter.

`It is very strange. I fear the worst. I tremble to know the worst.'

`What do you apprehend, Miss Ellingwood?' she inquired with alarm.

`I fear he has been tempted to play! Only in this manner could he have
absorbed such large sums.'

Mrs. Winter clasped her hands with strong feeling, and a sigh of bitter
anguish escaped her! For a few moments both were silent, overcome with
the emotion to which this apprehension gave rise.

`And no letter from him all the while?' observed Grace, wiping the tears
from her eyes.

`None! He writes Mr. Parker, but studiously shuns communication with
me! This grieves me most, Grace.'

`It looks dark, dear Mrs. Winter; but I trust it may yet turn out better
than we think. Frank may have had some good purpose to which to appropriate
this money. He only can explain. Let us wait until to-morrow.
Another day may bring us a letter, for I think he must have written you by
the same vessel which brought your agent's.'

The next morning, as Grace was wending her way in her light skiff
across the river, she heard Caleb calling to her on the shore. Thinking he
had, perhaps, news from Frank, she redoubled her exertions, and soon landed
beneath the sycamore, where Frank had first discovered her angling in
the brook mouth for trout. Caleb was standing on the bank, and his broad
sun-browned face was alive with animation.

`Well, Miss Grace, I've got news for ye, at last. I was goin' across to get
to see you, as Mistress told me not to make no delay, but get to speak to
yer just as soon as I could.'

`And what news have you, Caleb?' she asked with a flushed cheek and
panting yet from her rapid rowing.

`From mister Frank. Mistress has got a letter from him this morning,
and she's both laughing and crying. She tell'd me to come strait and tell
you to come and see her just as soon as — whew! There she is, off
like a mitten. I say, Miss Grace! Well, if ever I seed a young six week's
red heifer skip over the ground lighter nor quicker! She's out o' sight an'
hearin' a'ready: and instead o' havin' a nice walk in her company back to
the house I've got to take it in my own!'

On reaching the mansion of Meadow Farm, Grace flew into the house
without ceremony.

`A letter from Frank, Caleb tells me, dear madam?'

`Yes, Grace, answered Mrs. Winter, and listen to mine first, she said with
a slight smile.

`You have one for me?' cried the blushing girl.

`Yes, dear Grace—here it is. It came enclosed in mine. It must contain
the most news—for his to me is very brief. Be patient, dear, and hear me
read his to me, and then we will see what he says in yours. Yours seems
very full, while I have scarcely a dozen lines. But it is natural he should
write the longest to you, Grace.'

While Mrs. Winter was again opening her letter, Grace was examining the
superscription and seal of the one she held in her trembling hands. The
writing of the address was more careless and bolder than his, and the seal
was plain. This slight proof that there was a change in Frank, went to her
heart. She now listened to his letter to her mother.

My dear Mother:—You will probably have learned by the time you get
this, that I have thrown up my birth in the navy, fought a duel, and wounded


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my opponent. I am sorry to have to say to you that this is all true; though I do
not regret the transaction. I was insulted, not once only, but through a continued
series of petty insults, which no young man of spirit could put up with,
whether from a superior office or not. I recognise no rank above that which is
established in the bosom of every gentleman and man of honor. Accepting a
junior rank in the navy, does not make me less a gentleman, nor enjoin upon
me a slavish submission. I did but assert and maintain my right to courteous
treatment, and I was laughed at. I called out the officer who most provoked
me, and who took a pleasure in using his power to annoy me. He got behind
his privilege as my superior and refused to meet me. I promptly tendered my
resignation to the commander, and as a `gentleman,' as I was now acknowledged
to be, he was willing to meet me. We fought and he was wounded, but not so
severely as to endanger his life. I do not say a word to exculpate myself, for I
do not attach to my conduct any blame. My course would be approved by every
man of spirit; and since I was not compelled to remain in the navy to subsist,
you will not, dear mother, think I have done wrong in resenting insult and petty
tyranny. I remained a few days in Mahon, and came over here in a French
brig last week. Now I am in Europe, I shall avail myself of the opportunity
afforded me of travelling, and shall visit Paris and London. You may see me
home in about six months. I shall then remain with you, in your society and
that of Grace, to whom I enclose a line. I shall, I trust, perfectly enjoy myself.

Your affectionate son,

Francis.

`This is an affectionate letter, and does not look as if he was doing wrong,'
said Wrs. Winter, after ending its perusal; `I regret his leaving the navy;
but as he says he need not remain in it for a means of living!'

`I don't like its tone! It seems to me cold and indifferent. I less like
his tour to Paris and London,' said Grace, very seriously. `I confess that I
do not recognise Frank's noble and generous nature in that letter. It has a
reckless air and by no means like his former letters. Besides he has made
no allusion to his large drafts on your agents. This is the worst feature of
all.'

`Why, Miss Ellingwood, you are severe upon him. You know he must
have written to me under constraint fearing I might be displeased,
aud so this constraint looks like coldness and indifference And he
says right about his being above the necessity of having a profession;
and then his omission to speak of the drafts might have been from
forgetfulness, or because he didn't suppose it necessary to inform me so
long as I had given him permission to draw for what he needed. I can't
see, on the whole, dear Grace, that Frank has done any thing wrong except
fighting. That I can't approve of. But then do you know his grandfather,
when he was in the army, had a duel with a French officer? He had, and
my boy's spirit is a good deal like his grandfather's.'

`I am sorry I cannot see Francis' conduct in the same softening light in
which your maternal partiality leads you to view it, Mrs. Winter. I fear the
worst. I tremble to open this letter!'

Her fingers really trembled, and her face was deadly pale as she broke
the seal. She read it first to herself and then handed it to Mrs. Winter:

Dearest Grace:—With the vivid recollection of your parting words, reiterated
in your sweet letters to me, warning me firmly, but gently against my giving
way to what you termed my `peculiar notions of honor,' I scarcely know
how to address you. Before you receive this, the corvette will have reached
Boston, and the papers will probably have bruited the intelligence of a duel between
me and Lieutenant — .Now I am not about to defend myself. If you knew
the circumstances you would exculpate me, I am confident. I had borne with a
patience and forbearance which would have commanded your respect and approval;
injuries to my feelings, till patience was no longer a virtue, and forbear
ance became cowardice. Let me recount a few instances as a specimen of the
whole. I had been but three days out, and then ignorant of the peculiar exclusiveness


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of the quarter deck, I was walking on the weather side, when the first
lieutenant seeing me, approached me and said in a peremptory tone—

`This is not your place, sir. When you walk the quarter deck, please to
choose the leeward side, sir!' There was a suppressed laugh among the seamen
near, and a smile on the face of the other officers, and abashed, angry and burning
with the insult, I obeyed! The next day I had occasion to address the commodore,
when he said haughtily, `I will thank you to lift your cap, Mr. Winter,
when you address the commanding officer on his quarter deck!'

Now what right had he to address me in this manner? Should a gentleman
do it in the street, would it not be an insult to me? How does a quarter deck
make it less an insult? But I obeyed him, Grace! I forebore a reply I touched
my cap as a slave does to his master. I was taught `good manners' by a man
whose awkwardness is a by-word.

Again, at Key-West, I desired permission to go on shore. The lieutenants
refused it, because an hour before I had replied to an order, enforced with an
oath, that I would obey if my feelings as a gentleman were recognised. Beside
he swore to report me to the commodore as soon as he came on board. We lay
three days in Key-West, and I never left the ship! although every other midshipman
went ashore by leave or on duty. At Vera Cruz I was ordered to take
command of a boat to go for stores to the city. Supposing I should meet genteel
people, and have an hour to walk around while the stores were preparing, I
dressed myself very neatly. When I came on deck to get into the boat, the
lientenant looked at me with mock respect, and said, sarcastically to Ellis, another
midshipman, who, in his every day clothes was standing near the gangway:

`Mr. Ellis, you may take charge of the boat, as I see Mr. Winter has got himself
so nicely rigged, that it would be a pity to have his coat dirtied or his ruffles
soiled! He can best keep them clean by promenading up and down on
the starboard side of the quarter deck!'

I could not help flinging him back a glance of indignant defiance; for the insult
was in the presence of many. I made no reply, for I knew this man had
power, yes power, to place me in irons if he saw fit to do so. Can you blame
me, Grace, for saying in my heart that I would not remain in a position which
subjected me to such insulting treatment? I know you will respect my determination
and give me your sympathy.

On the voyage to the Meditterranean, and during six months cruise there, I
was constantly exposed to their insults, until at length I resolved to assert my
independence and privileges as a man! At Port Mahon I challenged him. He
refused to fight because I was a midshipman. I at once threw up my warrant,
and so far became `a gentleman' in his eyes, by the act, that he met me. I wounded
him. The ship sailed from Mahon soon afterwards, leaving me behind.—
Here Grace, I had time and leisure to reflect upon what I had done, and to consider
the whole course I had pursued! The result was that I acquitted myself.
I determined that, under similar circumstances, I would do again precisely as I
had done. I repeat the decision. I am confident that my course was the only
one a gentleman could pursue.

But, Grace, I feel that before the pure and severe tribunal in your heart, I shall
be less easily acquitted! I know you will censure me! I feel that you will
grieve at my resignation, and recur to what you once told me, that `my high
spirit of independence and insubordination would yet bring evil upon me!' I
have seen no evil from this step yet, Grace, only so far as it may yet affect me in
your esteem and friendship which above all things earthly I most prize. You
will learn by my letter to my mother that I proceed to Paris and London, and
thence homeward. If you will condescend to write me after my `grave fault,'
be so kind as to direct your letters to Paris for the next three months.”

The letter ended with expressions of tenderness, devotion and ardent
love, and of anticipations of the happiness he should enjoy on once more
meeting her. The two letters were then discussed by the recipients and
the result was, that Frank was acquitted and pardoned, with a grave censure
from Grace. He was at once written to, to this effect, by Mrs. Winter;


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and in part to this effect by Grace. As we are now in the way of correspondence,
we will give a copy of Grace's letter:

Dear Francis:—Your letter to me I have received and read with great care.
That you have done wrong in resigning and fighting a duel, there is no question.
By the one act you have sinned against God; by the other deprived yourself of
distinction in an honorable profession. But while I censure you I cannot but
feel that you have had provocation; but not enough to lead to such results. If
you had properly reflected upon the necessity of degrees of rank in the service,
and the necessity of discipline, you might have better borne the evils of a system
which originated in necessity. To obey is not degrading. To obey, one by no
means parts from one jot of his self-respect. Have you not heard the remark
that one must learn to obey before one can command! This, it strikes me, is
truth. William the Fourth was, when a prince, a midshipman, and obeyed like
others. Did he lose any of his real dignity of character? But it is past now,
Frank! I only wish you could have borne it with more forbearance still. But
to resign was enough. To resign at once freed you from your situation. It cured
at once the evil. What need was there to fight a duel afterwards? The evil of
which you complained no longer remained, why should you fight? Alas, I fear it
was a feeling of revenge that as ill became a gentleman as submission to authority,
Frank! After you had quit the navy you should have let the act thrown a veil
of oblivion over the past. You should have resigned to be free, not to take the
life of a foe. Your motive, therefore, in resigning was a bad one! When the
resignation in itself would free you from your condition, what was the use in
trying to blow out the lieutenant's brains afterwards?

Now, considering all things, Frank, I think I must come to the conclusion that
you have been all in the wrong. You will say I reason like a woman! I do reason
like a woman—one who is too deeply interested in your welfare and honor
to look upon your acts with indifference. In fighting this duel you have got
yourself, in the very outset in life, a reputation by no means honorable. The
stigma will attach to you through life. It will give you a certain kind of notoriety
among midshipmen and young men, but the thinking, sober world who constitute
society will disapprove! I am sorry, Frank, but now that it is past it
can't be helped. I only hope you will make an effort for my sake and your
mother's to retrieve this sad step. Be assured your conduct has thrown an insurmountable
obstacle in the way of my father's consent. He has seen the account
of your duel and does not spare you! I regret to find you are to remain
abroad some months. It would have been a happiness to your mother to have
seen you earlier than you contemplate coming. She seems very desirous, now
that you have left the navy, that you should return home, and remain with and to
take charge of the estate. I need not say that I join with her in the desire to
see you. Perhaps, if you settle down as a proprietor and become acquainted
with my father, he may by and by—but I dare not look forward! I fear you
forget me! Your indifference about returning makes me feel a sadness I cannot
express. Besides—but why should I hesitate? We have always been confidential
with each other—why should I fear to make known my fears? Your mother's
agent has just written saying that you have drawn on him for several thousands
of dollars, since you left, and that the amount in his hands is over-drawn
by a recent draft of two thousands dollars! Now this intelligence, Frank, I tell
you without any disguise, has deeply grieved both your mother and myself. She
does not grieve for the money, for she would impoverish herself to serve you;
but she fears with me that, inasmuch as so much money could not be expended
by you in the short space of eleven months that you have fallen into the dangerous
fascinations of play. I feel convinced it is so, Frank. I am certain
that you have lost this money, and have made these enormous drafts to discharge
debts of honor! I can conceive no other way in which it could have
been disposed of. This opinion is strengthened by the recollection that you
once told me that once, when at Boston, you attended the races at Cambridge,
and won a hundred dollars by betting. At the time I did not speak of it,
though it led me to think. But now I feel assured that the propensity then
manifested has taken hold upon you; and that in Havana, or some port where


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gambling is a profession you have been enticed to play. You make no allusion
to it in your letter, but I am persuaded that I am right in my suspicions. If I
am, dear Frank, for your mother's sake, for my sake, for your own honor and
happiness stop and never play again. I adjure you! I pray! I implore you!
never touch card or dice again. Go not to t'aris. Avoid London! Come home
at once, and here in the society of your dear mother, and in that of one whose
happiness is too dearly interwoven with your own, try to redeem the past and
be happy!

Your friend,

Grace.

The reader will discover in this letter the strength and excellence of no
ordinary character. Grace was not only beautiful in person, but also in
mind, with a heart full and overrunning with good and generous emotions.
She was a treasure that any man might proudly wear. She deeply loved
Frank, and while she laid openly before him, and censured his errors, she
did not cease to love him the less! His faults of character, his errors of
conduct, did not diminish her pure, ardent, and womanly attachment. The
letters were despatched. We will now precede them to their destination.