University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

We must shift the scene of our story like those of
the drama, to the whereabout of our different characters.
Not long after the Lormans had settled in
their new home, Mr. Bennington, senior, left Perryville,
to attend the sitting of Congress. Mr. Taylor
Davidson, a south-western planter, who had land
claims that required his presence in Washington
city, and who was a friend of Mr. Bennington, had
been spending some weeks with him at Perryville,
on his way up the Ohio, awaiting Mr. Bennington's
departure, that they might proceed together. During
Mr. Davidson's stay in Perryville, he had made the
acquaintance of the Lormans, and had heard Ruth
talk a great deal about Helen Murray, from whom
she had received several letters, portions of which
she had read to him. Mr. Davidson was a single
man, and would be pronounced by a very young
lady, one for instance just “coming out,” as most
decidedly on the list of old bachelors; a lady of Miss

Judson's age might not think so. Mr. Davidson was
a high-minded, chivalrous southerner, who in his
youth had been in the army, and had served with
honour in our late war with Great Britain. On the
death of his brother, who had left him a handsome
fortune, he had travelled extensively in Europe, and
on his return, purchased a plantation and slaves on
the banks of the Mississippi, where he had resided
since, and accumulated an immense fortune. He
wore his age well, and was a fine-looking man, with
a gentlemanly and distinguished bearing. He was
forcibly impressed with the wit, vivacity, friendliness,
and worldly knowledge of those portions of Helen's
letters, which Ruth read to him, and he laughing
said to her:

“Miss Lorman, you must give me a letter of introduction
to your friend Miss Murray. I am fascinated
by her letters. As I can tell her all about you and
your family, she will give me a kind reception, and
who knows but what I may improve upon it, and induce
her to come west. She is not a very young
lady you tell me, and I, you discover, am not a very
young gentleman. Upon my word, if she is so bewitching
as these letters indicate, and your account
of her proclaims, I fear I shall be no longer heartwhole.
What say you?”

“Helen is said to have great powers of conquest
in that respect,” replied Ruth gaily, “and I have no
doubt, when she sees you, that she will have the

will. But remember, her motto is conquest, not
exchange.”

When Mr. Bennington left Perryville, Mr. Davidson
accompanied him as far as the city, from which
Ruth had emigrated, with the intention of spending
some weeks there, and then proceeding to Washington.
In a splendid equipage with liveried slaves, he
called at Helen Murray's, and presented his letter of
introduction from Ruth. He was received by Helen
with every attention, and long and earnest were her
inquiries concerning the Lormans. The fact that
Mr. Davidson had seen Ruth Lorman, and spoke of
her in terms of exalted praise, established an intimate
intercourse between Helen and Mr. Davidson,
almost on their first interview, and he soon became
her daily visiter.

After the Lormans emigrated, Henry Beckford
was, if possible, still more attentive than ever to Helen,
who had succeeded in the determination expressed to
Ruth Lorman. Henry had addressed her, and she
had half consentingly rejected him, uttering the no,
which is said in most instances to mean yes. In
this instance, it was but to allure farther, that the no
might be more decided, after deeper protestations,
and burning, recorded, written vows. Her first hesitating
rejection, after a coolness on Henry's part of
a few days, drew from him, for his vanity whispered
it was all that was wanted, more eager and abundant
proofs of his attachment, among which were no
small quantity of gilt-edged notes, on various coloured

satin paper, where green was avoided, and blue
most used. The lady's replies were as non-committal,
as any politician's in answer to a committee
of his fellow-citizens, asking for his opinions, could
possibly be. At last Henry, suspecting that she
might show the correspondence, alluded, in one of
his letters, to certain passages between them, which
he coloured in such a way, that if she should show
it, it would appear that she had given him great encouragement,
which he thought would prevent the
exposure. She returned the letter, with a few cold
lines written crossways on the part, saying, she did
not know what he could possibly mean in writing to
her in that way—that he had applied to his imagination
instead of his memory—and that she desired
their correspondence might drop. This brought
Henry to seek a personal interview with her. Burning
with rage, which he determined to suppress, that
he might win her, and vent it, he proceeded to Mr.
Murray's, not without many conflicting feelings as
to whether he ought to go, and what he should say
if he went. Henry found Helen in the midst of a
fascinating tête-à-tête with Mr. Davidson, that gentleman's
splendid equipage standing before the door,
and in full view from the window. Helen introduced
the gentlemen to each other, and with her accustomed
courtesy, which did not bate a jot in self-possession,
after hoping that Mr. Beckford was well,
and requesting him to be seated, she resumed the
thread of her conversation with Mr. Davidson.

“And so you think I would like the far south, Mr.
Davidson?” she said.

“Indeed I do, Miss Murray,” Mr. Davidson replied,
“and I know the far south would like you.
What could persuade you to visit us?”

“An eloquent tongue, perhaps, sir.”

“Ah, me! I have now the deep regret, that I am
not eloquent. Could I persuade you, it would be with
me as the eloquent Irish barrister said it was with
him when the audience applauded him—`not the advocate—but
the theme.' Does not Miss Lorman give
you glowing pictures of the west? we of the south
beat them in every thing but hills.”

“Yes, Ruth does give me a glowing account of
Perryville. But she sighs for home, I have no doubt,”
and Helen ran her fingers over the piano that stood
near her, and warbled a verse of `sweet home.'
“There must be all sorts of folks there, to use one of
their expressions. But remind me of it, I will show
you one of Ruth's letters some of these days.”

“Show letters, Miss Murray,” exclaimed Henry,
in a tone of reprehension.

“Yes, Mr. Beckford, show letters when they come
from a guileless girl, for there can be no harm in
them. And I hold, though perhaps it may startle a
gentleman of your plain dealing, that though it might,
at first blush, seem like a breach of confidence, that
one may show the letters of an artful or a foolish
man, to prevent others from being the tools of his
artifice, or his folly. As for love-letters, there is nothing

new in them—and perhaps I could prove it—they
are stereotyped stuff, for which there is no copy-right
secured, and any one may publish them. There, Mr.
Davidson, have I not spoken like a blue-stocking?”

Mr. Davidson bowed and smiled.

“But do you approve the sentiment, Mr. Davidson?”
asked Henry, as if struck with horror.

“I must not condemn it, if Miss Murray utters it,”
replied Mr. Davidson, “for I am practising, sir, all
the powers of which I am master, to induce Miss
Murray to wend westward, and see Miss Lorman.
By-the-by, Miss Murray wonders that some one has
not persuaded the fair Ruth to say to him, what her
namesake said on a certain occasion in the good
book.”

“I opine, sir, that has been done,” said Helen.

“Are you in earnest?” asked Mr. Davidson. “I
hope he is a clever fellow, for our broad land does
not contain a lovelier or worthier lady.”

“In earnest, sir, downright earnest,” replied Helen.
“And he is a clever fellow—I know him well,
and can vouch for him.”

Henry Beckford believed that Ruth was pleased
with himself, from what her mother had told him
at their last interview; and feeling that he had acted
unjustifiably towards her, though he fed his vanity
upon the idea that he had outrivalled Ralph and
won her regard, he was careful never to speak of
her to Helen Murray. Helen, who felt deep indignation
against Henry for his conduct towards
Ruth, never spoke of her to him, while she was

winding her meshes round him; for she felt that if
she did there would be a fire in her eye not at all
consistent with her purposes.

Henry looked foolish at first, as if he thought himself
was meant; but when Helen concluded her remark
in a tone of evident earnestness, he inquired,
in great surprise,

“Who is he, Miss Helen, if it is a fair question?”

“Fair as the lady herself, sir,” replied Helen, “or
the gentleman to whose fairness you must be a willing
witness—your cousin, Mr. Ralph Beckford.”

“Ralph Beckford!” exclaimed Henry, with a
doubting laugh. “Miss Murray, I assure you from
my own personal knowledge, you never were so
much mistaken in your life. You know I used to
be very intimate there—”

“Master Henry, let me assure you, sir, that the
flattering unction that has fed your vanity is all
mere moonshine, sir. You thought you had obtained
Ruth's heart, Master Henry Beckford, and
that, like an idle, vicious boy, when tired of his toy,
you had cast it from you, not caring if you broke it;
but it was garnered up by another, and never gave
you one throb except of indignation and of pity.”

“Miss Murray, you use strange language,” exclaimed
Henry, in unfeigned astonishment and chagrin.

“You provoke it, Master Henry; but I'll drop it,
but with this assurance to you, that Ruth Lorman is
now engaged to your cousin Ralph Beckford, and

that when he leaves college they will be married.
You never gave Ruth the least heartache, except for
the effect of your deception upon her mother.”

“I thought that you claimed Ralph,” said Henry,
starting at the latter part of the sentence, and speaking
quickly, so as to exclude it, as it were, from his
own ears.

“No, sir, you are mistaken again. I never had
any claims upon your cousin—he has no vanity in
that way. In this regard, cousins though you be,
there is no relationship between you. I assure you,
Master Henry, I never had, I repeat, any claims
upon your cousin, except upon his friendship, and
that I would not resign for the love of any man in
Christendom. So you observe, sir, I have no idea
of love or matrimony.”

Mr. Davidson, anxious to turn a conversation, of
which he did not know well what to make, and
which he saw was giving increasing chargin and
passion to Henry, said:

“Ah! is that your determination; then of what
avail, Miss Murray, would be the powerful eloquence
of which we have been speaking?”

“You must remember, Mr. Davidson, that I have
not yet listened to that powerful eloquence. But
come, I see your horses prancing in the street—you
invited me to ride, I believe, sir?”

“I did,” replied Mr. Davidson; “allow me, Miss
Murray—Mr. Beckford, will you not accompany
us?”

Ere Henry could reply, Helen said,

“No, Mr. Davidson, Master Henry is too fond of
proverbs and too mindful of their injunctions not to
remember what makes bad company. I quoted the
proverb to him before, when he, Ralph, and I used
to visit Ruth.”

So saying, she took Mr. Davidson's arm, and
bowing to Henry, said,

“Mr. Beckford, you see I do not stand on ceremony
with you.”

“I have been made fully aware of that fact, to-day,
Miss Murray, and allow me to say, that it has
been so much in contrast with previous occasions,
that I know not how to take it. To a gentleman, I
could have replied—to a lady, I must be silent.”

“There, sir, you do me and my sex injustice;
with the tongue you are aware we are said to be
matchless—it is our peculiar weapon. Upon my
word, sir, I attributed your silence to a fear of the
odds. Good morning, sir.”

Helen and her gallant had by this time reached
the carriage, and ere Henry could reply, for he had
left the room with them, Helen had entered it, and
was addressing some remark to Mr. Davidson, as
if totally unconscious of Henry's existence.

“Upon my word, you are a strange lady,” said
Mr. Davidson to Helen, as the carriage drove off,
alluding of course to the conversation between her
and Henry.

“Things often seem strange to lookers-on, Mr.
Davidson, because they do not know the reasons
therefor. I understand all the depths and shallows
of Master Henry; and when he provokes me, I let
him see that I do—that's all.”