University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX.

The doctor entered the bar-rom with Hearty;
and while the latter was busily engaged in concocting
the cocktail, the former, pretending to glance
over the “Perryville Champion,” that lay on the
table, cast his eye furtively on Ralph, who had arisen
from his seat, and was walking up and down the
floor.

It occurred to the doctor, after he had entered
the bar-room, that as Ralph was the lover of Ruth,
perhaps, in her letters, she might have mentioned
himself to him. Ralph's moody brow, and the doctor's
own guilty conscience, led him to believe that
if she had, it was not favourably. He, therefore,
drank off the cocktail, certainly without making
any wry faces at the nauseousness of its medicinal
qualities; though he assured Hearty that he was
under the impression it possessed them abundantly,
and hurried out, as he asserted, to see a patient.

“Tell me, Hearty,” said Ralph to the landlord,
after the doctor had left, “what do you know of my
cousin Henry—where is he?”

“Know of him!” said Hearty. Mr. Ralph, you
see, though he is your blood relation, I'll say of him
what I think—and if I was you I wouldn't call him
cousin; for I tell you, that he wanted to abuse Miss

Ruth and you, here in this very town, just before he
attempted my life the second time. And the thought,
by Thunder, is just come into my head, that the chair
he like to have murdered me with, did as much to
make me weak-headed with respect to liquor, as the
time he run against the carryall and nearly killt me
by that chuck in the gully; besides the shame of the
business. Mr. Ralph,” continued Hearty, after some
hesitancy, “you never heard the ladies speak very
particular of that occasion, did you?”

“Never a word, Hearty, that was not to your
credit.”

“By Thunder, I am glad to hear it.”

“Hearty, you were telling me about Henry.”

“Yes, I was; and he's a fellow whose tricks will
hardly bear telling. He cut from the Boon House
earlier in the morning than you got here, after leaving
me for dead on this floor. He put straight for the
lower country, and he has turned out nothing; and
what is worse, he's turned unto gambling, and the
lowest kind of company. They say he stabbed a
man down there, in a quarrel; and it cost him
pretty much the last of his money to get out of the
scrape.”

“Is it possible!”

“Possible? by Thunder, you don't think he's too
good to do it, do you? Yes, they tell me, he got
into a quarrel with some fellow a-gaming, and dirked
him. That's pretty much all I heard about it; but
I tell you, Mr. Ralph, saving he's your blood relation,

I believe it. I have heard say—ay! here comes
Mr. Bennington now.”

As Hearty spoke, William Bennington entered
the room. Hearty introduced the young men to
each other.

William greeted Ralph cordially, and told him,
that he had letters for him. “I have business,” said
he, “at my office, you must excuse me at present;
I'll hurry there and send you your letters.”

One of the letters was written jointly by Mr. Davidson
and his lady. Mr. Davidson stated to Ralph,
that imperative business had taken him to the south-west
come weeks earlier than he expected. He regretted
very much himself and lady would not be at
Perryville to meet him; and concluded, by saying,
that, as they were determined to have a visit from
him, to secure to themselves that pleasure, they had
stolen Ruth.—Mrs. Davidson said to him, that she
could not get Ruth to go with her, until she had
told her, that he had promised to visit them; and
she remarked, she held him, both by duty bound and
love, not to stop in Perryville, one moment, after
reading the letter.

The other letter was from Ruth. She informed
him that her father and uncle had gone south, to attend
to a plantation which they had purchased, with
Mr. Davidson's assistance, and which adjoined his.
She said her father wished her to come with Mrs.
Davidson, and see him, which, together with Helen's
pressing invitation, had decided her. She hinted she

would have had no hesitancy whatever; it would
have been all pleasure to go, if another she might
name had only went with them. But knowing that the
person alluded to was coming, would somewhat relieve
the pain of leaving Perryville, where the only
inducement for her now to remain, would be the
pleasure of meeting him sooner.

“How much more cheerfully,” said Ralph, pressing
the letter to his lips, “Ruth writes, than formerly.
Why there is an archness in the way she mentions
my coming. Yes, bright prospects are opening upon
her father—she is with Helen—and she feels happy!
O! how I do long to see her! She must look better
than when I last saw her—she was then pressed down
with so many cares—so young too, and having to undergo
so many bitter scenes. Ruth, dearest Ruth!
I can scarcely believe that wayward fate has so
much happiness in store for me, as to suffer me to
call you mine!”

Ralph was interrupted in these reflections, by Mr.
Bongarden, the postmaster, who bustled in with a letter
in his hand, and advancing to Ralph, said:

“Ah, my young friend, here you are still, hey?
Well, I'm glad to see you. What is your first name,
if you please, young gentleman?”

“Ralph, sir—Ralph Beckford.”

“Ay, Ralph Beckford. Well, Mr. Beckford, that
was my impression. Our mails, sir, have not been
very regular lately, and I regret, not only as a public
officer—as the postmaster, sir—but I regret it as a

politician. These are stirring times in politics, sir.
Great excitement prevails, sir. I wish you to mark
my words—something of importance, political importance—I
am exact in what I say, sir—something
of political importance will turn up some of these
days. Did I understand you to say that Ralph was
your name, sir—Ralph Beckford?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Ralph, “that is my name.”

“Well, Mr. Beckford, knowing as I did that your
last name was Beckford, I had the impression, my
young friend, that your first name was Ralph. Upon
my honour, if put upon my oath, I could not tell precisely
why I thought so. But I did most certainly
think so, and it appears that I was right. Yes, sir,
here is a letter for you, I presume—it bears your
name.” The postmaster, with a most courteous bow,
placed the letter in Ralph's hand, and continued:

“No thanks, express no thanks, my young friend,
I am happy to oblige you. Our city, sir, is not quite
large enough yet to have a penny post, but I hope to
live to see it. Strangers, Mr. Ralph Beckford, in
visiting a city like this, do not come to the post-office
nearly as soon as they should. Some affair of consequence
may have happened, political, mercantile,
legal, mechanical, moral or natural, and they know nothing
about it, all for want of calling at the post-office.
And though they get no letters, they learn the
news. I think I may say of myself, sir, without compliment,
that I am not like most public officers; they,
my young friend, hold their duties to be a task, I hold

mine to be a pleasure. It gives me delight, sir, to
give a gentleman, a traveller, when he is so situated
as not to be able to see the news-papers, and to hear
what's going on in the world—it gives me delight,
sir, real delight, to hold a half an hour's conversation
with him, and give him the run of matters and
things.”

“I feel very much obliged to you indeed, sir,” said
Ralph, who had broken the seal of the letter, but who,
from a sense of courtesy to the postmaster, had not
opened it; “allow me to pay you the postage.”

“That's it, sir,—twenty-five cents. Any thing over,
ahem—the postage is marked on the letter, I believe
—yes, twenty-five cents. My young friend, Mr.
Ralph Beckford, you must call and see me.”

Ralph assured him he would if he remained in
town, and, with a foreboding of ill, he hastily opened
the letter, as the postmaster departed, followed by
Hearty, who said he wanted to have a word with
him.