University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

The hour of dinner was three o'clock, a late hour for the country, but one
hour earlier than Col. Hare had been in the habit of dining in town, and two
hours later than our hero had ever dined in his life; the dinner hour at the
parsonage being half-past twelve, and that at the College commons at one.
Half a dozen times before two o'clock came he made up his mind not to go to
this dinner; for he feared Miss Hare, dreaded her father's offer of patronage,
and trembled at the idea of being seated next to or opposite to Grace Gordon;
a consummation which he would have liked most of all things in the world but
which he of all things most dreaded! Love in its first awakenings is guilty of
many odd and perverse contraricties of temper! The solicitude, however, which
he felt to acquit himself to both ladies of any intention of impropriety, made
him change his determination and resolve to go.

His mother had sent him up from the half past twelve dinner table a lunch
of pie, saying he would need something, it would be so long before he would
get his dinner, and that it was not wise to go long on an empty stomach. The
good woman's pie however remained upon his little table untouched and unthought
of, for he was in too great perturbation of spirits to think, much more
to set down and deliberately eat a lunch.

`Come, my son,' said the rector, who was deeply interested in the success
of this dining out, entering his chamber with a large silver watch in his hand,
`it is now a quarter to two; and it is polite in going to dine out to be present
an hour before the dinner hour. You had best go, I think.'

Charles received the announcement of the time with a flushed brow, for
Grace Gordon's image rose to his mind on the instant, and his heart beat tumultnously
at the idea of soon being in her presence. He followed the clergyman
down into his study and there received from his anxious parent several
axioms of good advice touching his behavior, as follows:

`Now, my son,' said the good man of the old school, `you are to dine in
fashionable society. You will betray no surprise at any luxuries or articles of
furniture or ornament that are unfamiliar to you. You must seem as if you
had always been accustomed to such things. On entering the house a servant
will show you into the sitting room, and remember on entering to pay your
respects first to the ladies; to Miss Hare speak a word or two, bow to Miss
Gordon, and if Colonel Hare offers his hand, shake hands with him, but never
with a lady on such occasions. Are you listening?'

`Yes, sir,' answered our hero demurely amused at this revision of Chesterfield
from the formal clergyman.

`When dinner is announced, offer your arm to Miss Hare—it used to be the
finger tips, but times are changed now—and conduct her to the table. The
lady should always sit at your left. Never pour ont water or hand bread at
such a table as Colonel Hare's, for this is the duty of the servants and probably
these things will be kept upon the side board as they should be. Never when
a plate is handed to you pass it to another—it is impolite—besides, it is the
servants' duty to hand the plates to the guests. You will be asked to take
wine by Col. Hare. Fill your own glass and drink to him after he has filled
his—for the one who sends wine fills his glass after the other. Do not be
guilty of the guacherie, as the French term it, of asking the ladies to take wine
also, before you fill your glass, this is ill-bred. But after drinking with your
host, wait a reasonable time and then, sending the decanter by a servant to
Miss Hare, solicit the honor of taking wine with her. After the servant has
half filled her glass, be fills your own, and you courteously nod to the lady, but
do not speak, and take half of your wine. The English deem it good manners

to empty the wine-glass on such occasions, but this is not good breeding. Be
careful you do not, (as at home,) keep the same plate for two courses! Converse
only on subjects of the day, and avoid entering into arguments or disquisitions,
or introducing any subject upon which persons present may be supposed
to differ in opinion, from you, or among themselves. Drink but two
glasses of wine, for temperance is a noble virtue in a young man, and commends
you to older persons, however much themselves may break the rule. After
fruit, the ladies will retire! Do not leave the table to go with them, nor to hold
the door for them to pass through—this is the servants' duty; but rise when
they do, and slightly bowing, remain standing in your place till they disappear.
You then resume your seat and conversation will now be more free. The
growth of grapes, the age and preservation of wines, the best mode of raising
fruit, the quality of cigars, and anecdotes connected with these, (the subjects
being all before you on the table,) are the usual and most proper themes to talk
about at such a time. You should not therefore neglect to make yourself
something familiar with such subjects, that you may not be at a loss. After a
cigar you will join the ladies, when it will be proper for you to ask Miss Hare
to play, when the conversation, in the intervals, will turn upon music and composers,
of which you should know something, to be able to do your part well
and naturally.'

`Why, sir, this is artificial, throughout.'

`And the perfection of art in society is the simplicity of nature. I hope you
will remember these hints, for the ignorance of all that I have now communicated
to you, was the cause of many a mortifying hour when I was your age,
and first went into society. It is to spare you the shame and pain of personal
experience, that I have been thus particular. But at last, no rules of conduct
can be given that will cover the whole field of behavior, and much must be left
to experience, and much to good sense and judgment. I hope you will get
through your first dinner well, and without the awkwardness that makes the
memory of my first dining out, at this moment, cause my ears to tingle.'

`Indeed, sir, I am obliged to you,' said Charles, `it is true I am quite a novice
in stylish society—perhaps needed your instruction. But I trust I shall be able
to pass the ordeal with the recollection of your hints, with some credit. Good
afternoon, sir.'

`Good morning, you should have said, my son,' said the Rector, calling to
him as he was hastening from the door, `it is `good morning' in good society
always till one has dined. Do not say good afternoon by any means when you
meet them. I wish you to appear well, my boy, and small matters often make
large impressions.'

Our hero at length escaped from his solicitous parent's reiterated charges,
and secretly obliged to him for his advice! for though his good sense and
taste might assist him in going properly through his dinner hour, he felt sadly
the want of experience, and had no objections to profit by his father's.

Hare Hall was a handsome, cottage-like country seat on the bank of the
river opposite the parsonage, with lawns and garden descending from the piazza
to the water. It fronted also the other way on a road that passed between
the village of Bradford and Haverhill, crossing the river by a long wooden
bridge, elevated on several stone arches, and at that time one of the wonders of
New England. On leaving the lane that led to the parsonage, Charles entered
the village street, and took his way to the bridge, which he had to cross to
get to his destination. When he was half away across he involuntarily paused
to admire the scenery above and below him; the smiling fields of living green;
the terraced town with its snow white churches and neat dwellings; the pretty
village of Bradford on the hill, with its clumsy spire; and the dark and limpid
flow of the river beneath, which came so near being the grave of Grace Gordon,
and perhaps his own! `How strange,' thought he, `the circumstances
that have crossed the thread of my destiny with this bright girl! how extraordinary
that I should now be so wholly lost in the contemplation of one, of whose
existence, two days since, I had never heard! Why is it that I am so deeply
interested in her? Because I saved her life. I saved Miss Hare's also; yet
she holds no such claim upon my heart! Heart did I say' Yes. It is my
heart that is interested in Miss Gordon. I need not attempt to conceal it

from myself! Yet why should I suffer myself to be thus interested in her? I
can never encourage this affection with the hopos of having it reciprocated?—
She can never think of me! I can never be anything more to her than a poor
clergyman's son—an object of patronage. I will strive to-day and conquer
forever a passion, (for passion it is becoming,) which is certain to make me
miserable!'

His reverie was interrupted, for he had been pursning his way along the
footpath of the bridge, by the rapid sound of carriage wheels behind him, when,
looking back, he saw a light travelling phaeton approaching him at a fast rate,
containing an elderly gentleman and a young man, in whom Charles recognized
Grayson Preston. His first emotion was that of pleasure, which was instantly
followed by a flush of mortification at the idea of his unliquidated debt,
and from that sense of dependence which cannot be overcome. His gratitude
would have made him hail him with delight, while his pride and the consciousness
of the knowledge the young gentleman had of his indigence and destitution,
made him feel like avoiding him. His better feelings, however, prevailed,
and, as the carriage came near, he looked behind with a smile of welcome to
his benefactor; but the young collegian was so intent upon governing his
cream colored ponies along the narrow track of the bridge, that he did not notice
the foot passenger past whom he wheeled with such speed. Charles followed
the receding chariot with his eye, till it disappeared in a winding of the
road enveloped in a cloud of dust.

`Why should I feel such mingled emotions of pleasure and shame at meeting
the man who has done me better service than any other person living?' he
inquired of himself with a feeling of reproach. `How dependence and a sense
of pecuniary obligations poisons the better feelings of the human heart. I
would embrace him, yet shrink from and avoid him, both in the same instant.
If I feel so towards Preston, how shall I feel towards Colonel Hare—towards
all associated with him, if I consent to receive his patronage. No, I will not
again part with my free will and frankness of character to any man. I am glad
I have seen Preston—for I am now firm in my resolution to abide the issue on
my own poor estate. He is probably going to Boston. I remember now, he
said his father resided, in the summer, at a place he owned near Exeter. They
have now come from thence! How differently Providence has cast my lot
from his! He emerges into manhood, and finds wealth and all its luxuries, laid
at his feet, offered to his hand! That fine, dignified looking gentleman must
have been his father! He has wealth, and was wise in sending his son to college;
but better, far better for me would it have been if my indigent father had
educated me for my condition. I have now all the high feelings, the enlarged
views, and cultivated tastes of this rich young Preston, which only serve to
enable me to feel more sensibly my condition. But I will not repine, but
with a strong heart and a trust in God go onward. Talents and industrious
perseverance may achieve for me, all that birih and fortune have given to
Preston.'

With this better resolution be pursued his way along the road, over which the
clouds of dust raised by the wheels of his friend, still floated, and after a short
walk, entered a lawn that led by the side of a meadow, towards the south front
of Hare Hall. Noble oaks and proud elms lined the way and gave dignity and
an imposing air to the approach. He at length entered a carriage gate-way,
through which a wide gravelled avenue led to the front of the mansion. On
the right of this carriage path was a foot way bordered with low shrubbery, by
which he proceeded towards the mansion. It presents a handsome appearance
with a graceful Ionic portico, its verandah on each wing and latticed conservatories.
Before the door was drawn up a carriage with cream colored horses,
which he instantly recognised to be that in which Preston had passed him on
the bridge. There was an instant rush of blood to his temples, and he suddenly
stopped. The idea of meeting him there was at first disagreeable to him, and he
would have avoided it. But reflection showed him the folly and unmanliness
of his emotions, and he continued on his way to the door.

`How could Preston have known Colonel Hare? He had never heard of his
visiting him! Did he know Grace Gordon?' was then a question that rose
to his thoughts, attended with conflicting and painful feelings. He was now

within a few yards of the portico when the carriage drove off empty towards the
stables. Colonel Hare had ushered in his guests, when seeing Charles approaching,
he turned back and met him upon the steps.

`Ah, Mr. Blackford, I am happy to see you,' he said, shaking him heartily by
the hand; `walk in! We have an accession of guests to our table to-day,
whom I did expect. Come in! You will find others here that have to thank
you for your gallantry.'

Without giving him an opportunity of inquiring whom he meant, he ushered
Charles into the drawing room, where, as he entered he saw Grayham Preston
in the act of kissing Grace Gordon with a warmth of affection that, with the
surprise of the deed itself nearly overpowered him. He, however, instantly
recovered himself, persuaded of the folly of encouraging such feelings in relation
to her as he experienced, and saw Preston surrender her to the embrace of
the elder gentleman, whose eyes were bathed in tears of joy as he pressed her
again and again to his heart.

On seeing Charles Blackford enter with her father, Miss Hare approached
him and offered him her hand with a well-bred frankness that surprised and
pleased him, as he had anticipated a reception from her so different, and instantly
made him at case with himself.

`You will have a happy welcome here to-day, Mr. Blackford,' she said smiling.
`General Gordon has surprised us with a visit.'

`Is that noble looking gentleman the father of Grace Gordon?' asked Charles
with surprise.

`Hither comes Grace to answer for herself.'

Miss Gordon on seeing Charles had released herself from her father's embrace
and drawn him eagerly forward towards him.

`Mr. Blackford,' she said, extending her hand and beaming upon him a look
of grateful delight, `I have the happiness of making you acquainted with my
dear father, whom, but for you, I should never more have seen. This is Mr.
Blackford, father.'

General Gordon grasped both hands of Charles, and for a moment held them
firmly, and in silence clasped between his own, while the tears fell from his
eyes to the floor. Charles was deeply affected.

`Young gentleman, God bless you,' he said at length, finding utterance.—
The blessings of a grateful parent rest upon you. You have restored to me my
child! I cannot reward you. You will find a reward in the praise of your
own heart—in the consciousness of having saved the life of one in the bloom
of youth and beauty, and saved from going down to a wretched grave an old
man, who now lives to bless you.'

Charles could not frame any reply to the natural eloquence of a father at
such a moment, and was silent. Grace Gordon met his eye and looked a soul
full of gratitude. He felt that his indiscretion of the day before was pardoned
or forgotten, and he was happy.

`Ah, Blackford! how do you do?' said Preston coming up to him and speaking
in the frank tone of long standing friendship. `I congratulate you upon
saving my fair cousin Grace from her perilous situation yesterday.'

`Your cousin!' repeated Charles.

`Yes, don't we look alike,' answered he smiling. `Uncle got Colonel Hare's
letter this morning at Exeter, that Grace had fallen into the river from a boat,
and came near drowning, but for a young clergyman who plunged in and saved
her; and so we took carriage and came down. I had no idea that the young
clergyman was yourself until you came in, although I heard the name. When
did you take orders?'

`I wrote, or meant to write clergyman's son,' explained Col. Hare laughing.
`Well, Mr. Blackford, you see you are among friends. I am glad you know
Grayson.'

`We were in College together,' said Preston suddenly assuming a cold manner,
which Charles observed, but could not account for; but reading could have
done, however, had he observed the look of grateful interest with which Grace
was at that moment regarding him, and which Preston had detected and chose
for some reason or other to feel displeased at. These male cousins are very
jealous of their pretty female cousins, always.

The dinner hour passed without incident or without any breach of etiquette
on the part of our hero, which happy result was doubtless owing to his father's
careful injunctions before hand. General Gordon was all courtesy and kindness,
Colonel Hare, polite and attentive; his daughter gracious; Preston formal;
and Grace very silent; but Charles thought her silence very eloquent,
and it pleased him rather than many words. After the ladies had returned,
Colonel Hare gave a very animated narrative of the danger and rescue of his
daughter and Miss Gordon by our hero, which exceedingly embarrassed him.

`You are a lucky fellow, Blackford,' said Grayson, crushing an almond between
his thumb and fore finger and breaking the meat into his glass of wine;
`I wish my star had been in the ascendant that day.'

`If Grace and you were lovers, Mr. Preston,' said Colonel Hare, laughing,
`you would have good reason to be jealous of our friend here.'

`Jealous,' repeated the young man with a slight touch of haughtiness, glancing
significantly at Charles, who could not mistake the look of proud superiority
that met his, and which conveyed to his quick and sensitive mind the history
of his obligations to him. Yes, Charles Blackford began in earnest to feel
the bitterness of dependence for a pecuniary favor, and to learn that the patron
will never be at a loss for occasion to make the obliged feel his dependence. In
his heart, for a moment, Charles felt as if he would rather have endured all the
evils he had escaped by Preston's loan than experience the sensations of inferiority
and dependence he did at that moment; and he internally resolved to
use every exertion soon to repay him at the expense of every privation. He began
to dislike him too, for the interest he took in Grace Gordon. How strange
are the workings of human nature! how opposite and conflicting the feelings
that agitate the heart! How good and evil, love and hatred, gratitude and dislike,
struggle for the mastery. Charles was human—his nature like that of all
humanity. He tried to keep alive his gratitude for Preston; but the other's evident
uneasiness at his good fortune, as he termed it, in rescuing his cousin,
and his own fears lest he should be favored by her, awakened in him incipient
jealousy which is fatal to gratitude. He also smarted under the meaning
and haughty glance of his college friend, when Colonel Hare alluded to rivalship.

`No,' thought he proudly; `I never will de dependent on Colonel Hare or
any one beneath this roof. It shall be my earliest toil to pay Preston his debt.
I shall then—but what have I to do with thoughts and hopes of his cousin? If
he loves her—be it so. I can never aspire so high.'

`You look something sad, sir,' said General Gordon to him, interrupting his
reverie. `Allow me the honor of wine with you. Your health Mr. Blackford.
When you visit—nay—you must visit Boston on purpose, and make my house
your home. So you knew nephew Grayson in college?'

`Yes, sir,' answered Charles, avoiding Preston's eye which he felt was seeking
his own, to give him a haughty look of reminiscences; and which he now
felt was intended to intimidate and check him from presuming upon making
his cousin's acquaintance. The moment this idea occurred to him, his pride
was touched, and he no longer stood in awe of his presence. He then added to
General Gordon in a frank open manner, `yes, sir, I have reason to know him.
He generously assisted me in a very trying hour of pecuniary embarrassment
and to this moment I stand in his debt. I shall, however, I trust,' he continued,
turning his clear eye full upon the surprised young man, `have it in my
power to release myself from the pecuniary part of my obligation to him.'
Preston was surprised to find Blackford so freely acknowledge what he believed
he was anxious to conceal and what he inwardly had resolved to hold in terrorem
over him if he should prosecute, as he feared, his acquaintance with his
cousin. Charles, however, had too humble views of his own position to think
of cultivating her acquaintance, though he would have esteemed a moment in
her society the happiest in his life.

`Blackford, a glass of wine with you,' suddenly spoke Preston, passing him
the decanter. Charles filled his glass not a little surprised at this frankness in
one whom he saw had taken a dislike to him, and as he rightly conceived wholly
an account of his agency in the rescue of Grace Gordon.

`May the intimacy formed in college, be preserved through life, without any

thing to mar its harmony on the part of either,' said Preston, unexpectedly
giving a toast. His eye followed his words and met that of Charles who plainly
understood him. From that moment the two young men were rivals. That
toast had been a challenge, and our hero took it as such. He drank it in
marked silence, and as they set down their glasses he saw on Preston's face a
smile of haughty defiance. Charles felt too keenly his indebtedness to him to
show his own feelings; and he burned to have the opportunity of releasing
himself from the now painful veight of his obligations.

`You can retire, Preston, with Mr Blackford, if you have done your wine,
and take care of the young ladies, while the Colonel and I sit and chat awhile
upon business matters,' said General Gordon.

The young gentleman who had been leaning back in his chair for sometime
past, making a bell of his hock-glass, with his nut crackers, for a tongue, rose
from the table, and politely enough, yet with an air of superiority, let Charles
precede him to the withdrawing room. The result of the conversation which
followed, so far as it had reference to our hero, will be subsequently made known
in a letter addressed to him by General Gordon, the following morning.

The young ladies were seated, one at the piano, the other at the window, looking
idly over a portfolio.

Preston walked directly to his cousin, who occupied part of an ottoman in
the window, and seating himself beside her, took her hand in his, as if in the
habit of such terms of intimacy with his fair relation. With a quick and blushing
glance across the room, to Charles, who was approaching Miss Hare, by the
piano, she hastily withdrew it.

`Why, you are prudish all at once, Grace,' he said, seeing the direction of
the glance, and feeling angry that the poor student had already so much influence
over her.

`That is fine print, Grayson,' she said, holding to his inspection, an engraving
of a rural scene.

`Yes. Where were you upset? Can you see the place from the window?'

`Yes, directly opposite the willow, at the foot of the garden, and mid-way the
river. We floated down as far as the Elm, before William Blackford saved us.
Oh, how my heart throbs with gratitude to him.'

`I suppose so,' said Preston, dryly. `Ladies always love young gentlemen
that snatch them out of the water. I suppose you saw this Wm. Blackford on
the shore, and thinking him a very handsome young man, you would apset the
boat for the sake of having a romantic rescue. Well, he is a proper youth—pity
he's so poor,' added Preston, glancing where our hero stood listening to an air,
Miss Hare was playing for him.

Grace took her cousin's irony for playful teasing, and did not reply to it; but
his allusion to Mr. Blackford's poverty immediately interested her.

`And is he so poor, Grayson?' she asked with sympathy.

`Yes. He had difficulties in College, and would not have got through but
for my assistance.'

`Yourwere very generous, Grayson,' she said warmly; `you dont know how
much better I think of you.'

Here Preston was foiled, as he deserved to be. He had hoped his allusion to
his indigence and difficulties, and his need and assistance would have awakened
in her, feelings of reserve towards him; but, on the contrary, he found that
she did not see his poverty, but his own generosity; that it did not lessen her
esteem for him, but her respect for himself. It is ever a woman's nature to
feel so. But Preston was too young in his knowledge to know of that rich and
inexhaustible mine of all that is good and noble—the female heart.

Preston, at length, grew moody, and left the window and then the room.
Grace became silent, and looked out of the window. Miss Hare finished her
song and joined her; and Charles, fearing to trust himself to speak to Miss Gordon,
before her, took his leave. In the hall, he met Preston, who passed by him
haughtily, and with a slight bow.

The next morning he was seated in Judge Orne's office, taking his first lesson
at the law, and where he received from the hands of a servant, in livery, a
note, the contents of which shall be given in the ensuing chapter.