University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

Friday evening arrived, and Gage and I were
together at the very place where I had determined
never to be again. My ship was ready to sail, but I
cared no longer for the ship; the South-sea voyage
lay before me, but I could not bear to think of the
south-sea; I had but one hope in the world—but one
desire. I had not been able to sleep for three nights—
ever since our conversation at the play; I had put off
the hour of going to bed as long as I possibly could;
knowing that the night would be a sleepless one, a
night of sorrow and fever, and fear and bitter self-reproach,
and every night the same till I should be
weary and sick of life; and I had risen morning
after morning at a very early hour, because I had
found it so, morning after morning; though every
night when I laid my aching head upon the pillow, it
was with a determination to be very late on the
following day—for what else could I do? Hour after
hour, would I lie with my eyes shut, striving to wear
away the time, to count myself asleep, to remember
the very words that she spoke to me, as we sat side
by side on that couch—hang that couch—the very
day before I encountered her dear friend Gage—hang
her dear friend Gage—endeavouring to persuade myself,
though I dared not look at my watch, that I had
wasted a goodly portion of the day, while yet it
lacked seven or eight hours of noon; that she did
care for me after all, though I had no courage to

think of her behaviour when the arrival of Middleton
was mentioned, or of the color that flashed up over
her pale face when she heard Gage say that we were
acquainted. Perhaps, thought I, perhaps Gage may
be a rival of mine; perhaps he may not like her
manner toward me, and if so—by heaven! I will see
them together!—I wish I could see her alone with
Gage or Middleton—no matter which—it would be
easy for me to behave like a man if I know the truth,
much as I love her—love her! yes I do love her! I
love her as I never loved any other woman; but so
long as I am in doubt, I must behave like a boy—I
must and will!

So, on Friday evening, though the ship was ready
for sea, instead of going abroad, I went where I
might see the woman I most loved on earth betray
her love, not for me, but for another—a mere boy.

She saw me the moment I entered the room, and
came up to me, and gave me both her hands before
all the company. How was it possible to doubt her
after that? She had never looked so well. Her
large clear eyes, of a color that no two persons were
ever able to agree about, were full of expression, full
of subdued beauty, and her black hair—massive and
black as foliage carved in ebony, was like that of a
woman just hurried out of a bath to her own bridal,
with hardly time enough to coil up the magnificent
profusion of her wet shining tresses. To tell the
truth however, the whole truth, I must own that
although she gave me both hands with a show of
cordiality, which at any other time would have made
a fool of me, I was not altogether satisfied by her
manner; it was too eager, too hurried, too anxious—

and her eyes were upon the door all the time she was
talking to me; and though she flattered me to my
face with a fine speech, and though I knew it was
flattery, and though it is very flattering to know that
you are worth flattering, still—still—my heart misgave
me. I could not breathe as I now breathe,
and I could see nothing but eyes all about me, hear
nothing but a confused murmur, for the first minute
or two after I entered.

She—I do not like to say Mrs. Amory, or the
widow, in this part of my story, she was at the head
of those who were thought to have a peculiar knack
at entertaining company. She had a word for everybody,
a smile for everybody, and a hand for everybody.
Sometimes, to be sure, I found that it was the
very same word, and that while she was giving her
hand to A, she was talking to B, smiling to C, and
bowing to D.

It would not be two much to say that her tongue
was never idle, from the first moment I saw her till
the very last; hour after hour was consumed in repeating
the same or similar things over and over
again to every body she spoke to; and yet she
appeared to me over-thoughtful and over-anxious all
the first part of the evening. She was called witty,
and smart, and showy, and clever (by an Englishman;
pray observe this, for in this country, to be clever is
to be good-natured, as to be a fine woman here is to
be a woman of agreeable manners and pretty good
sense, whatever may be her shape, while in England
a fine woman is a large, dignified showy woman,) and
I cannot deny that she gave out her oranges and

repartees, cakes and conundrums, riddles and sweetmeats
with a deal of propriety and grace.

And yet, (I will say Mrs. Amory now, for I just
begin to remember how she treated me, and have
worked myself up to the right humor for telling the
truth of her,) Mrs. A. was not very witty, she was
only rather so; her replies were quick, and therefore
they passed for repartees; whatever she said, was
said with an air of smartness and fire which took
people by surprize, and therefore she appeared to be
witty. Her wit however, was only the wit of the
toy-shop, the retail-haberdashery of the drawing
room, the every-day retorts, which are to be met
with on every-day conversation cards—they could
not go wrong, they could easily be invited, and
almost anybody might entrap another into saying that
which would justify a cut-and-dried repartee; it was
nothing of that high-bred sprightly playfulness of the
tongue, that capricious, brilliant coquetry of a superior
understanding, the dear delightful nonsense of a happy
heart, which when it is natural, is so captivating. No,
no, my dear widow—it was the common, poor, conventional
wit which people use after having associated
long together and got all their good things in common—a
sort of genteel cant of their own, which
enables any two of them, if they meet before a
stranger, to play off, a certain quantity of rehearsed
and prepared lively dialogue as if it were
unpremeditated. Reader—perhaps you may have
seen two weather-beaten old-fellows, who had been
at sea together some forty years before, sit and laugh
at each others unintelligible joke's “turn about” as
they say, for two or three hours together on a stretch;

or perhaps you may have met with two broken-down
bachelors, on a raw day at a windy corner, and heard
them as they stood shivering in their light coats (with
the tails blowing over their heads) and plethoric
trowsers, holding on by their hats and complimenting
each other on their good looks, till you wondered
how they were able to keep their countenances? If
so, you have an idea of what I mean by thorough-bred
courtesy and conventional wit.

So—so—cried Gage, coming up to me as I stood in
a far corner of the room, watching the people about
me as if they and I were not of the same earth—So,
so! how d'ye do, glad to see you; I like your way,
you mean to be of our side, I see.

Of your side—how—

You mean to be virtuous and meek; well, well, it
gives you many advantages. They permit us to linger
after the rest are gone, to hear what every body has
to say of every other body—after every other body's
back is turned.

Quere—if that would be so agreeable?

You are getting serious!

No, no—I hope not.

Yes you are—so take hold of my arm, and come
along with me, and will try to entertain you.

I took his arm, and we walked away together; for
I knew not how to escape from the misery of my own
thought; I longed to be away on board the ship, or
any where—at the very bottom of the South-Sea, and
yet I had not the courage to move. The woman that
held such power over me—God knows how and for
what purpose, if she did not love me—stood a little way
off, and my heart died within me, as I saw her color

come and go, at every knock at the door, and at every
step that approached us.

Why sir, continued Gage, as we drew near to a
group of ladies all talking together—I have seen our
widow—ah! there she is now—I have seen her pull
that very group to pieces one by one, after they had
been prattling together as they are now, for a whole
hour; I have seen her laugh at and mimic the fat
mother, who to give the lady her due, is to be sure a
terrible eater—a—a—a (mimicking) can't sleep ma'm,
can't upon my word after a late supper with you;
very bad health just now, very—thankee my dear;
another leg o' the chicken, if you please—very delicate
indeed, I assure you; really now its quite distressing
to see how some people gorge—a jelly if you please,
my dear; one would think they were never able to
get enough—upon my word that cream looks nice,
I'll trouble you sir, or that they never got any goodies
at home; with all my heart sir—though I never drink
wine, your very good health sir! a bit o' the breast
my dear; thank you sir for one of the sweet-breads—
a—a—I have long had a desire to see how they are got
up; by the by, love—there's a cranberry-tart near
you—much obleeged to you—I have known people,
and very pretty-behaved people they were too, with
such a stomach!—a jelly my dear if you please, they
would digest an ostrich—thank you love.

By this time, we had got into the middle of a magnificent
room which overlooked the North-River; and
I stood there a while, studying the characters about
me, as they passed and eddied and whirled hither and
thither, like the shadows we see in a camera obscura.
It appeared to be crowded with strangers, people

from abroad, British officers and American officers,
naval and military, here a judge and there a shop-keeper;
on my left a general who walked with his
toes in and his head forward, there a legislator unable
to express himself in his mother-tongue. Here a fat
wealthy West-Indian, with a shape and a complexion
so like that of a huge overgrown toad, as to provoke
every body that saw her to cry out at the resemblance,
there a dear little mahogony daughter with
hair blacker than the wing of a raven. The mother
you see, is a little tipsy—or so—hiccup—said Gage,
and does nothing you see but laugh now and
then very oddly and abruptly, at nobody knows
what, pull forth a splendid watch with a deliberate
flourish, set it, or wind it up, and put it back into her
feather-bed, with another flourish, and a sparkle each
time that never fails to produce a dead silence, you
see, among the ladies about her—who have neither
watches nor diamonds—it absolutely takes their
breath away.

By her side was another large woman, who appeared
very anxious I thought concerning five great
gawky girls who sat in a row at her elbow; and I
heard her whisper to one of the five that Mr. somebody-or-other,
who was then helping them to a batch
of cake, was not to be encouraged, being as she had
reason to know, a young man of no property.

Ah, said I, they are very rich I suppose, and the
mother would keep an eye on the cake-bearers.

Alarmingly so—

How much?

Guess.

Why, fifty thousand dollars each.

No—five thousand dollars or so, not more.

Indeed!

Among the whole five.

What airs!

Yes—for heiresses.

Who is that pray? said a neighbor to Mr. Gage,
pointing as he spoke, to a young fellow that stood
near, of a noble aspect, with the wisdom and sincerity
of a good man so conspicuous in his broad clear forehead,
fine mouth, and composed carriage, that no one
could have doubted his goodness, it appeared to me—
at least I could not, after I saw that nobody went
near him, except once or twice, to see if he had enough
bread-and-butter for the evening.

That, said Gage with a smile, which I understood,
is a unitarian preacher, a moral man of the North;
and a very good fellow he is too.

That I am sure of, said I.

You know the discipline of the college where they
are bred perhaps.

Perhaps I do; but a look at his plate would be
enough to satisfy me; you may estimate the moral
character of every man here, by the degree of attention
he receives.

Bitter enough—you seem to have little or no use for
your plate, I see, and if I were you—ah!

He stopped in the middle of the sentence, left me,
and hurried away to the most extraordinary looking
young man I ever saw, with a bright olive complexion,
a perfectly Greek face, and large black eyes.
He appeared to be full six feet high, and he wore his
hair parted upon his forehead and falling back over
his shoulders with a slovenly savage air that reminded
me of something I had seen before.

Pray said I, turning to a neighbour, can you tell me
the name of that person—

A long deep breath at my elbow made me turn the
other way. It was my dear, dear Mrs. Amory—there
she stood! within a step of me without seeing me,
her body bent forward, her hands half-locked in a
superb shawl, and her eyes rivetted—ay, rivetted on
the stranger, who threw up his head with a look of
surprize when he saw me. It was Gerard Middleton,
but so altered, so grown, so superior to what he was
when we parted on the wharf, that I should have
passed him on the high-way without knowing him.

Oh Mrs. Amory! said I to myself, when I saw her
look, and his carriage toward her. Oh, Mrs. Amory,
Mrs. Amory, oh! High time for you to be off Mr. Fox,
and the sooner you are off the better, Mr. Fox, and
the sooner you are on your way to the bottom of the
South-sea, the better Mr. Fox. Another man would
not have waited for this—but you are a—what am I?—
you are a fool Mr. Fox. Very true, said I, Then why
don't you go Mr. Fox. Because I am fool enough to
desire nothing but her happiness—and if I see that
he is really dear to her; if it be in my power to promote
their union, I will do so, whatever be the sacrifice
to me. You are a d—d fool, to be sure Mr. Fox;
and here my soliloquy ended much to my relief. Now
Middleton was undoubtedly the handsomest man
there; and though I felt a strong desire to cut his
throat, I could not help liking the brave haughty
negligence, the proud, happy freedom of his carriage
and look, as he stood in the midst of us with every
eye upon him, and my dear widow biting her underlip
at his side.

What was to be done? Should I go—or should I
stay? Should I run off like a boy, and go a-board
the ship, and behave like a fool for the rest of the
voyage; or should I carry the matter through like a
man; stay where I was, and outbrave the proud
woman to her face?

Hey!—what!—in a brown study again? said Gage.
Here Middleton! this way—I wish you to be acquainted
with Mr. Fox. We bowed to each other, or
more properly at each other, and after some talk
about, I never knew what, we were intruded upon by
a lawyer—with a light blue neck-cloth, rings and
broaches, a tilter in his walk, and a pretty wife—a
fellow nevertheless of extraordinary black-letter erudition,
said Gage, who saw me staring at him, with a
good heart, a clear head, a genteel temper, and a huge
library; quite a character, studies hard, works faithfully
at his profession, takes the most comprehensive
and profound views of the science—

Of the science of law! said I, bitterly enough I
hope.

Perhaps you may not call it a science.

No faith—not I.

Ask any of these gentlemen here.

All of the bar, I suppose?

Pretty much.

Excuse me.

Well sir, as I was a saying.

He takes the most admirable and comprehensive
views of the law.

In de main sair, said a Frenchman who stood near,
but not in de tail.

And yet, ha, ha, ha! he wears rings, ruffles, breast

pins, and a stock that half-strangles him, the queerest
colored cloth in the world for his coat, and gets along
the high-way with a sort of a tittupping hitch, as if
he had the spring-halt. In a ball-room, he would pass
for a man-milliner, or what is far more contemptible
in a state where women are helpless or not allowed to
maintain themselves, for a retail shop-keeper.

I bowed, and several of neighbours hurried away
from our party, as he proceeded.

What say you Mr. Fox?

I say as you do Mr. Gage.

In a court of justice you would take him, if you
were too far off to hear what he said, for a travelling
jeweller, from the North, trying to put off some of
his ware upon the judges. Look—look!—he is
eternally at play with his watch-chain, or wiping the
inside of his palms with a linen cambric handkerchief,
or pulling his chin, or taking off, wiping, and replacing
his gold-mounted spectacles—let us go nearer, and
you shall hear what they have to say, that group of
lawyers you see there, our legislators, our masters;
our law-makers and our law-interpreters.