Doctor Vandyke :: :: University of Virginia Library

Colonel Brand was seated in his
large arm-chair of carved oak, with Spanish-leather
covering—a tall and portly individual,
ruddy of face from high living,
with gray side-whiskers, and formal air,
and clad in imposing costume. His face
and bearing said: “I am the lord of the
manor; you common people will be good
enough to bow down to me!” He even
held the number of the Virginia Gazette
which he was reading with a stately air,
as of a superior mortal, who performed
an act of condescension in perusing what
common people had written.

Innis entered, and, approaching,
bowed to the colonel, who rose slowly
—for it was a part of his social philosophy
never to omit any form of courtesy
—and grandly held out two fingers. Innis
took them; the colonel submitted to
the ceremony without responding in any
manner to the pressure bestowed upon
the two digits; and then came, in stiff
and formal tones:

“You have just returned from the
capital, I believe?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Innis, taking the
seat which the colonel indicated with a
stately wave of the hand.

“Hum!”

The colonel cleared his throat in a
formal manner, and resumed his seat.

“Perhaps you bring some intelligence
of interest,” he said, raising his chin,
and slowly passing his jewelled hand beneath
that portion of his person.

“Scarcely any thing, sir,” replied Innis;
“my stay, as you know, was brief.”

Colonel Brand made an inclination
with his head, as though to protest
against being supposed to remember, or
be aware of, a fact so very unimportant
as the duration of the young man's absence.

“His excellency is well, I trust?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“You saw him?”

“I did not, sir, except when he was
passing to his coach one day.”

“I have the honor to enjoy his lordship's
acquaintance. You saw none of
the council or his excellency's suite?”

“Yes, sir—I chanced to make the acquaintance
of Lord Ruthven, his secretary.”

“Lord Ruthven?”

“Yes, sir; a nobleman from Scotland,
I believe.”

The colonel seemed suddenly interested.

“A gentleman of—let me see—hum!
from sixty-five to seventy?”

“Scarce as old as forty, I think, sir.”

“Then 'tis not my Lord Ruthven of
Perthshire.”

“You knew his lordship, sir?”

“Well—indeed—hum!—I may speak
of his lordship as my personal friend,
and I possess and highly value a portrait
of him which I have—his own gift.”

“The Lord Ruthven of his excellency's
suite may be the elder nobleman's
son.”

“True; what is his personal appearance?”

“Very pale, with black hair and eyes,
and of grave demeanor.”

“The same; no doubt 'tis the son of
the elder lord, who may have died recently.”

Innis looked around for the portrait
of the elder Lord Ruthven; it was nowhere
to be seen.

Colonel Brand seemed to have dismissed
the subject. With imposing gravity
he began:

“The intelligence from England, I

perceive, sir—hum!—” when, unfortunately
for his stately discourse, the
breakfast-bell rang; and, rising, the colonel
approached the door, and, moving
slightly aside, waved his hand for Innis
to precede him.

“After you, sir,” said the youth,
courteously.

“I beg you will proceed, sir,” said
the colonel, with stately condescension.

Innis smiled and obeyed. They entered
the breakfast-room, and a tall,
elderly lady, very graceful and attractive
still, came from behind the urn, and, putting
her arms around the youth, kissed
him affectionately.

Then Miss Lou Brand, tall like her
mother, with dancing, hazel eyes, a superb
complexion, dazzling teeth between
rosy lips, and an air of gayety, mischief,
and abandon, came and greeted him
warmly. Honoria entered and took her
place, and breakfast proceeded.

“Where is Meta, aunt?” said Innis
to Lady Brand.

“I have no idea, Edmund; not making
her toilet, for she is an earlier riser
than any one in the household.”

“I fancied I saw her at one of the
windows as I came up the hill.”

A species of inarticulate murmur was
heard behind the youth; he turned quickly.
On the threshold of the apartment
stood a singular figure.

The new-comer was a girl, apparently
about fifteen, of very extraordinary
beauty, but with something wild and
elfish in her appearance. She wore a
dress of the most brilliant and variegated
colors, and superb dark hair fell in huge
masses of curls upon both shoulders.
Her eyes were dark, subtile, and penetrating,
and were fixed intently upon Innis.

He rose quickly, and went and held
out his hand, with a smile, saying:

“How do you do, Meta?”

The girl coldly refused the hand, and,
without uttering a sound, went to her
place at the table.

“Something has offended Meta,” said
Lady Brand, in a low tone.—“Do not
take any notice of her, Edmund; it is
the best way.”

The youth resumed his seat; breakfast
went upon its way; the stately lord
of the manor rose and returned to the
library; and an hour afterward Innis
was seated in his aunt's chamber, informing
her of the fortunate results of his
journey. He had made every arrangement
to enter Mr. Wythe's office on the
first of January.

“Heaven be thanked that you have
been so fortunate, my son!” said the
worthy lady, busily knitting in her great
chair; for, like a good Virginia housewife,
she would never remain idle. “Now your
career in life is open to you. By assiduous
study you may become, not only
prosperous but distinguished; and your
old aunt will be as happy as yourself.”

“Dear aunt,” said the youth, warmly,
“how good you are to me! One
would really suppose that I was somebody.”

“You are of our blood, and that is
very good blood, too, Edmund.”

“But I am very poor.”

“That is of all human things the
least important to a young man—it is a
spur to exertion.”

“But, in case I were to—fall in love
—aunt?”

“Do not do so yet, Edmund. There
is time enough for that, as my friend
Mrs. Cary is always telling Phil.”

Innis sighed.

“I suppose you are right, aunt; but,
in case I were to find my affections engaged—to
love some one—then poverty
would be a serious bar, I fear.”

“Why should it, if you are energetic
and make your way? Two sorts of
wealth exist in this world, Edmund—
property and intellect. If your intellect
brings you revenue, is it not as valuable
as landed estate, which can do no more?”

“The land is much more certain,

aunt; but we are wandering very far.
You see I am quite fortunate now, and,
thanks to you, have something to look
forward to. Let me tell yo of my adventures.”

And Innis related the incidents connected
with Lord Ruthven, suppressing,
however, as he had promised, all allusion
to the singular words of the nobleman.

“That was unfortunate, Edmund, but
in this world we must not regret too
strongly what we cannot help. You
had no intention to injury Lord Ruthven,
and, fortunately, he has recovered.
These accidents are sometimes truly unhappy.
Meta, you know, owes her loss
of reason to a similar fall.”

“Is it possible, aunt?”

“Did you not know it?”

“Strangely enough, I did not.”

“We rarely allude to it, and never in
her presence, as it agitates her frightfully.
Meta, you know, is the only daughter
of a cousin of my uncle, Colonel Seaton.
Her father and mother are both dead,
and we have only done our duty in taking
the poor orphan to our arms. She
came to us in her present condition—
dumb and bereft of sense. When about
ten years of age, she one day mounted a
spirited young horse; the animal ran
away and threw her to the ground, and
in falling her head struck a sharp stone,
which, it is supposed, drove a portion of
bone in upon her brain. When she recovered
from her fall the poor child had
lost her reason. Truly, the ways of
Providence are past finding out. And
now don't let me detain you, Edmund.
Old people must not monopolize young
people; and yonder comes Philip Cary,
a great rattle-trap, but a young man for
whom I have much regard. Come back
during the evening—I like to see as much
of my boy as I can. You know we must
soon part.”