University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

A few days after, Douglas handed his cousin the
following paper:

Delia read this curious document in silence, and,
on looking up, found that Douglas had left the room.
She ran after him, but he was gone, and for a day or
two avoided any opportunity for farther explanation.

At length she found one, and asked by what means
the paper had been procured.

“By proper means, my dear coz,” said he, “if
the paper is a proper one.”

“Proper!” exclaimed she, “for me to receive,
certainly. But for him to give! Indeed, I pity any
poor wretch who can be so abject. I am glad, at
least, I am to see him no more. I should find it
hard to behave to him as becomes myself!”

“It would be hard,” said Douglas, “but as you
always will behave as becomes yourself, hard though
it be, it was right you should be spared the trial.”

“This is your doing then?” said she.

“No questions, coz,” replied Douglas. “I must
behave as becomes me too.”

This put an effectual stop to farther inquiry, and
the slight concealment did but deepen Delia's sense
of the service Douglas had rendered her. While she
admired the delicacy which, at once, veiled and
adorned his chivalrous character; he, on his part
felt greater pleasure at having redressed her wrong,
because the affair had taken such a turn as to conceal
the part that he had acted. The ties thus formed in
secret, are doubly sacred and doubly sweet. The
heart involuntarily classes them with those chaste
mysteries which the vulgar eye must not profane.
They become the theme of thoughts which sometimes
rise up, and kindle the check, and light the
eye, and then sink down again and hide themselves
deep in the silent breast.

But this privacy was destined to be invaded by
one person, at least; and that, the very one from
whom Douglas would most anxiously have concealed
the whole affair. Yet was there no person to whose
tenderness, delicacy, and affection for both parties, it
could have been more fitly confided. In short, Mr.
Trevor, one day, placed in the hands of his son a letter,
in the President's own hand-writing, of which the
following is a copy:

“Can you tell me what this means?” said the
mild old gentleman to his son.

“As I remember,” replied Douglas, “the circumstances
under which I heard of the events alluded to,
I think, I can give a guess at the meaning. It
means that my cousin was insulted, in my presence,
and that I protected her, as was my duty.”

“And how does it happen that I never heard of
it? Who was the person, and what has become of
the affair?”

“It has all blown over,” said Douglas, “and I
had hardly expected it would ever be spoken of
again. Delia alone knew of it from me, as it was
right she should. I have never mentioned, nor has
my friend. I am sure she has not; and what the
other party can promise himself from the exposure, I
am sure I cannot tell.”

“The thing is now made public, at all events;
and both as your father and as the friend of the President,
it is right that I should know all about it.”

“Certainly, sir,” replied Douglas, “you shall

know all; and when you do, I need not explain why
I have never told you before.”

He left the room, and soon returned with a bundle
of papers. From this he handed one to his father,
which proved to be a challenge, in the most approved
form, from him, the said Douglas Trevor, to Philip
Baker, Esq. Then came a proposition to discuss
from the other party; then a flat demand of apology,
or the alternative of, what is called, gentlemanly
satisfaction; then an offer to apologize; then the
paper we have already seen; and then the following:

“Philip Baker declares, on his honor, that he
meant no offence to Lieutenant Trevor by any words
addressed to him on Saturday last; and that he
deeply regrets having spoken any which may have
sounded offensively in the ears of Lieutenant Trevor.”

“This will do,” said Mr. Trevor. “It only
shows that you have acted as became a soldier and
a gentleman. These papers show clearly that the
quarrel began in an insult to your cousin, which you
were bound to resent. This will be perfectly satisfactory
to the President.”

“Doubtless it would be,” said Douglas, promptly;
“but so much of the affair as implicates my cousin's
name must go no farther.”

“But it is that,” replied Mr. Trevor, “which
shows the cause of the quarrel. The other papers
only show that you fancied an intention to insult

where none existed. This would tally too well with
what the President has heard.”

“Be it so,” answered Douglas, calmly. “If the
President is never satisfied till I furnish a paper
which is to blend my cousin's name with a public
discussion, he must remain dissatisfied. I cannot
help it. Better to have suffered the insult to
pass unnoticed, than to make a lady's name the
theme of guard-house wit.”

“Bless you, my noble boy,” said the admiring
father. “You are right, and there is no help for it.
But what shall I say to the President?”

“What you please. The conclusions you draw
from what you know, he is welcome to. The facts
are with you.”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Trevor, after a musing
pause; “certainly he will trust in my general assurance
that his information is, to my certain knowledge,
erroneous. This will do. It must be sufficient.”

“It must do,” said Douglas, “whether it will or
no. In the mean time, my dear sir, let me beg that
the affair may go no farther, even in the family.
Delia alone knows of it, and she only knows as
much as may be gathered from that paper, a duplicate
of which is her's by right. I therefore beg
that you will say nothing about it, even to her.”

And he did say nothing to her; but Douglas observed,
that that night, when she held up her lip for
his paternal kiss, the kind old gentleman gave it

with more than his usual tenderness. He held her
off, parted the hair from her forehead, gazed earnestly
and affectionately upon her; and then, kissing
her again, bad God bless her, in a voice choked
with emotion. From that moment, she was to him
as a daughter.