University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.

After Pinckney had been some weeks the guest of
his friend Langdale, one day, when the inmates of Holly
were assembled round their social hearth, for it
was now generally cold enough for fires, though on
some days they were not necessary, the following
conversation occurred:

“Well, brother, how is Mr. Pinckney?” asked
Fanny.

“He is better,” replied Sidney, “though he has not
been out but once since the day he did us the honour
to dine with us in town.”

“That was a most imprudent step,” said Miss Rachellina.
“I have never thought of it since without
being provoked with you. To invite a gentleman
so much injured as Mr. Pinckney to a house, so damp
and unaired as I know our town-house must be, was
the height of imprudence.”

“My dear aunt, I can assure you,” rejoined Fanny,
“that fires were made in the rooms early, and everything
was comfortable. Mr. Pinckney, in proof of
it, received no injury whatever—not the slightest.”

“I wished Fanny to go with me to our friend
Langdale's and see him, but she foolishly refused,”
said Sidney.

“Foolishly! I think not, nephew. If it had been
necessary for Fanny to go, it would have been from
the necessity proper, not otherwise.”

“Why aunt,” replied Pinckney, “did not all the ladies
on Mr. Langdale's birthday attend a splendid
party there?”

“Yes, nephew; but remember one of the first ladies
of our city, Mrs. Allan, did the honours for him.”

“Aunt,” said Sidney, archly, “you have called repeatedly
to see Pinckney.”

“There is a difference, Sidney,” replied Miss Rachellina,
bridling, “between the age and situation of
myself and niece.”

Sidney bowed low to his aunt, and then said to
his sister, as if he were determined to teaze somebody:

“I believe Fanny meant to have gone, until she
heard that Pinckney was able to go out, and then she
proposed that I should invite him to the house.”

“There was some manœuvring in that, I confess,”
said Fanny, blushing but rallying, “and, brother, it's in
our family. At least you and I have the gift, for you
have practised considerable diplomacy in finding excuses
for visiting Mr Elwood's lately.”

Sidney looked at his sister, and unobserved by his
aunt and father, shook his head.

“Niece,” said Miss Rachellina with a decided air,
“I have heard you rally your brother repeatedly lately
on the frequency of his visits to Mr. Elwood's. But
there are some things that should not be jested on—
I beg you will drop it. Miss Sarah Grattan is a very
fine girl, considering her advantages. A very fine
girl; but the possibility of her alliance with our family
is not to be even remotely hinted at. This familiar
jesting upon certain subjects takes off imperceptibly
their impropriety in our minds. Your brother's
visits to Mr. Elwood's have no such character
as your jests would imply; yet by your raillery upon
the subject, the impression may be made upon the
servants and upon the neighbours, which would compel
us to treat Miss Grattan coldly,—a thing I should
be very sorry to do.”

“That is what I don't think I shall ever do under any

circumstances, my dear aunt, for she is the very best girl
I ever knew; and, indeed, she has a great deal of mind.
As for brother, aunt, they say in town, you know, that
he is courting Jane Moreland.”

“A very fine young lady is Miss Moreland; her
family is one of the best in the state, and her fortune is
ample.”

“Who told you that, sis?” asked Sidney.

“O! how very ignorant you are, brother of mine,”
rejoined Fanny. “Mrs. Allan asked me if it were true
the last time I was in town; and so did the Swifts.”

Mr. Paul Fitzhurst was seated in his arm-chair,
apparently reading the newspaper and inattentive to
the conversation. A frown succeeded Fanny's remark,
when the old gentleman laid the newspaper on
his knee, and said:

“There has always been something mysterious
about the intimacy existing between Mr. Elwood and
Bronson, who, some one told me, was to marry Miss
Grattan. I wonder at her choice. Miss Grattan's
father was a highly respectable man; he was a physician
in extensive practice, and a fine companion he
was, too. I knew him well. He married a very respectable
girl, a Miss Gilmore, I think, of an old but
reduced family. Elwood bore in those days a very
bad character; he was held to be a low, dissipated
gambler; and it was a matter of surprise to every one
when the other Miss Gilmore ran away with him.
He and Bronson were always intimate; I remember then
that both of them were held in little repute. Elwood,
however, I have always thought a much better man
than Bronson.”

“I think not, brother,” interrupted Miss Rachellina;
“he treated his wife shockingly. I, in respect to her
family, used to visit her occasionally, and I protest
that the brutality of her husband shocked me. I gave
him a setting-down once that he remembers to this

day. Bronson, though, is a low creature—and now I
remember, brother, notwithstanding Bronson always
pretended to be pious, there was a great intimacy between
them. It was said at the time that Bronson
had done him some favour—relieved him from a debt
that threatened to deprive him of his farm; that's the
only thing he cares for. I have often repented since,
that when his niece was growing up, I did not show
her some kindness; but I attended Mrs. Elwood's
funeral; and, notwithstanding the awful occasion, Elwood
remembered the setting-down I gave him, and
treated me rudely. This prevented my taking the interest
in Miss Sarah that I else would have done.”

“Aunt, old Agnes, who lives in the old cabin by the
burnt mill, is a very intelligent old woman. I have
heard her say she knew all about the Grattan's; she's
very old—yes, very; she remembers all about your
grandfather, and can tell about the revolutionary war.
I don't like her.”

“She was Dr. Grattan's mother's housekeeper,”
said Fanny, “and she is so full of old romantic notions
that I like to go and talk with her. Why, aunt, she
expresses herself as well as any lady—all the village
people pay her a great deal of respect. She tells fortunes,
and believes in true love.”

“True love,” interrupted Miss Rachellina; “Fanny
you said that just as I suppose that giddy thing,
Peggy Gammon, would have spoken it.”

“Well, aunt, over such as Peggy, and over the village
girls, she has great influence—it is believed she
is a fortune-teller—I like to listen to her; she certainly
is interesting.”

“It is such fortune-telling old women as she!” exclaimed
Miss Rachellina, “who have ruined the happiness
of many a poor girl. Such a worthless fellow
as this John Gordon, for instance, will pay her well,
and then persuade a giddy thing like Peggy Gammon

to go and have her fortune told. The result is, that
the worthless hag describes him as her `true lover,'
as you, or she would call it, and when he offers himself
she considers it destiny, and takes him.”

“It is recorded of Tom Foote, the celebrated wit,”
said Sidney, “that he, by turning fortune-teller for a
friend of his, Lord Debaral—if I remember rightly—
got five thousand pounds—at any rate, a very large
sum. The lady was superstitious, my lord knew it,
and told Foote, who was a great mimic, and could
assume any disguise, that if he would play the fortune-teller
and describe him exactly to the lady as her
future husband, and the stratagem succeeded, he would
pay him that sum. Foote agreed. The lady sought
to know her fate, and he told it. My lord courted
and won her with her fortune, and paid Foote out of
it. So, take care Fanny how you consult the oracle;
some mercenary gentleman may anticipate your questions,
and purchase the response.”

“I shall be beforehand with the gentleman, brother;
for the first one that I fall in love with I will get you
to invite to Holly; then I will apprize Aunt Agnes
of the fact, describe him to her, fee her well, tell my
gentleman of her skill in palmistry, and when he repairs
to the oracle I shall be described to him to a T,
as the only one who can make him happy.”

“If you have such designs, sis, I advise you by all
means to cultivate the good graces of Aunt Agnes.”

“I have done so, sir. Almost every fine day when
I visit Sarah, we call over by the mill to see her,
when I never fail to give her something; besides
which, I have despatched Pompey repeatedly to her
cabin with flour, butter, eggs, ham, and many other
things; for Aunt Agnes, though she be a witch, lives
not upon air, and therefore are my purposes in the
full promise of accomplishment. You may further
know, sir, that I intend to spend to-morrow with Sarah,

and that we will certainly call and see, not the White
Lady of Avenel, but the White Lady of the Woods.
So, if you promise to come for me in the afternoon, I
promise to intercede and make your future fate bright.”
“Agreed!” said Sidney, “it is a bargain.”