University of Virginia Library

20. CHAPTER XX.

Ralph's letter was no proof of the truth of presentiments.
He almost leaped for joy on reading it.
It appeared that a rail road, about to go into operation,
was to terminate directly by the property
which he was soon to receive in right of his mother.

The letter was from a celebrated speculator, who
had been a client of Ralph's uncle, and in that way
Ralph slightly knew him. The speculator stated to
Ralph, that on inquiry for him, of his aunt, he was
informed he had departed westward but the day
before. He said that he learned the place of his
destination, and wrote to him instantly. As the property
in question, he remarked, immediately joined a
portion of his own, it would therefore be of more
value to him than to any other person, and he would
consequently give a correspondently higher price for
it. He offered thirty thousand dollars for it, as soon
as Ralph should obtain possession, so as to convey
to him a good title.

“This is a God-send, indeed,” said Ralph, as he
paced the floor with a beaming countenance. “Mr.
and Mrs. Davidson's good opinion of me will remove
any ill impressions that Mr. Lorman may have
against me. I can assist him with this sum, as well
as my aunt. Ruth, dearest Ruth—”

Ralph was interrupted in his reflections, by the
entrance of Sam, puffing and blowing, with his trunk.

“Master, here's your trunk,” said Sam, “and it's
tarnation heavy. The Captain said he thought you
was a gwine down further with him; the first bell's
rung.”

“Then take the trunk right back, I'll go with
him.”

“You'd better be in a hurry, Master, she was
puffing steam quick.”

“Bring the trunk, then, where's Hearty? no matter,
I can't wait; you must tell him I could not stay
to bid him good-bye.”

“Yes, Master, I will,” said Sam, as he settled
Ralph's trunk upon his shoulder with great alacrity
at the thought of accumulated fees; “I'll tell him it
was untirely onpossible.”

Ralph leaped on board of the boat just as she was
starting, and was soon out of sight of Perryville,
which had not now the magic it once possessed for
him. Nothing of consequence occurred to Ralph
in the first two or three days, and as the boat was
fully freighted, and only stopped to wood, or for a
few minutes to take in a chance passenger, he had
very little opportunity of observation either of the
country or the people.

Ralph was impressed, however, with the view of
the “meeting of the waters,” where the Ohio pours
its waste of waves into the deep and turbid bosom of
the Mississippi. It rained, and heavy clouds were

driving athwart the heavens. Of course, therefore,
Ralph did not see the confluence as beauty would be
seen in her gala dress. The scene impresses one,
not with the beautiful, but the grand. The Ohio here
rolls a broad tide, as if it was proud of showing the
wealth of waves it contributes to the father of waters.
One could not here appropriately quote Moore's
lines on the fall of Avoco, though the wild of waves
and woods, doubtless, would strike him more than
that scene. On entering the Mississippi, you have a
State to your right and to your left, and a third before
you, while thoughts of what the great west must
be, crowd on your imagination like the innumerable
hosts of heaven, when you attempt to count them.

As the boat on which Ralph was had made so
far a very speedy trip, he had hopes it would overtake
the party from Perryville, as they had only left
that place the day before him.

The next day, towards night, they stopped as usual
to wood, and Ralph went ashore to amuse himself
the while. He had scarcely put his foot upon the
bank, when some one greeted him in a tone of joyful
surprise—

“Why, Ralph—Ralph Beckford!”

He turned, and beheld Mr. Lorman, who was advancing
towards him with extended hands.

“My dear boy, I am glad to see you!” exclaimed
the old gentleman. “I am as glad to see you as
though you were my own son—and I hope you will
soon be as one to me.”

Ralph, as our readers may suppose, was overjoyed
to see Mr. Lorman.

“Where is Ruth, Mr. Lorman?” he asked. “How
is she?”

“Well, my dear boy, and in that boat which lays
not twenty yards from us. I have been below this,
where I expect to settle, and I was called this way
on some business. Yesterday I was at —, and
on seeing that boat bound down the river, stop, I
went aboard, in hopes of hearing from home, and
so there I found Ruth with all my family, together
with Mr. and Mrs. Davidson. Do you go on board.
I'll step on to your boat and order your baggage to
be taken to ours.”

Ralph took Mr. Lorman at his word, and sprang
with the speed of thought towards the other boat,
which was also wooding. Our readers may be sure
that warm welcomes greeted Ralph—but there was
one who looked on with the feelings of a fiend baffled—with
an intensity of hate and revenge that
almost maddened him—that one was Henry Beckford.

He had entered the boat at a town above, but a
few hours previously, with several of his dissolute
associates, and the first objects that met his eye on
looking into the ladies' cabin, were Mrs. Davidson
and her lord, with Ruth, her father, and the rest of
his family, forming a group of happy faces, and engaged
in lively conversation. Fearful of being recognised,
he hurried to a state-room next to the

ladies' cabin, which was unoccupied, and which he
instantly took. Through the nearly closed door he
watched, and listened to the talkers.

They hardly would have recognised Henry had
they seen him. His features were bloated and
blotched from intemperance—all traces of their
former beauty had gone. His eye was blood-shot,
his lip livid, and, instead of the easy careless air
that formerly characterized him, he had a bullying
swagger, as if he thought every one near had heard
something against him which he determined to brave.
Even his manner of dress was changed; instead of
the neatness and taste which he formerly displayed
he now exhibited a number of rings upon his fingers,
an immense quantity of gold chain round his neck,
and wore his vest open and affectedly careless, so
as to display it.

Situated as he was, he could overhear every word
that was uttered in the ladies' cabin, as well as observe
the parties. After a pause in the conversation,
Helen said:

“And so, you tell me, Ruth, that the last you
heard of Henry Beckford was that he had stabbed
a man, and with difficulty escaped the consequence?”

“So I have been told,” said Ruth.

“He has not disappointed me in his destiny,” said
Helen, “but I am surprised to learn he had the courage
to stab any one but a woman or a child.”

“That is a severe remark, Helen,” replied Ruth,
“but I fear it is just.”

Near the state-room in which Henry had placed
himself, were several of his associates playing cards.
The conversation was so loud that they could overhear
it, and at the mention of Henry's name they all
stopped to listen.

“Scissors!” said one of them, as Ruth concluded
her remark, in a whisper to the rest, but which was
so loud that Henry overheard it also; “that's our
Mr. Beckford—our particular friend.”

“Play ahead, Will,—losing one's character is like
losing one's card, a bad business. I wonder who
these women are. Egad, one of them—”

Here the hurried entrance of Ralph turned the
current of the speaker's thoughts. He glanced at
Ralph quickly, and then striking his hand with emphasis
on the table, he said—

“That's a good looking fellow, and that's a good
looking card. Play up.”