15. CHAPTER XV.
THE BRACELET AND THE NOTE.
Doctor Courtlandt stood watching Max and Caroline
as long as they were in sight, with a well-pleased smile
upon his thoughtful face.
“She would make him a most excellent wife,” he murmured,
“but I do not think they are at all more attached
to each other than cousins, who are friends, are usually.
But the one great fact which remains, is this—Max is
better, stronger, gayer, more lively. He no longer mopes,
though his sadness has not entirely left him, and he still
thinks too much. Certainly that was a happy day in
Italy when I said to myself, `All this is worse than idle
—let us go back again to Virginia.' Here has been a
greater change than I could have hoped in so short a
time; and, by my faith, I believe these two young girls
have been the means. How gay and sincere a spirit is
Caroline's—how cheerful and tender Alice's; they are
paragons of sincerity and true-heartedness withal—and
such mere children. Come! can I not be content with
my young cavalier, but I must be coveting my neighbors'
children? What a glorious fellow Max would be were
his spirits once back again; what a wrist he has; well,
we will trust to time, and new scenes.
“New scenes! that cap of Caroline's brought to me some
very old scenes;” and the Doctor smiled thoughtfully;
“it resembles exactly my Romeo cap, in former times.”
The Doctor's brow clouded over, and he sighed. That
poor heart had never entirely recovered from its wound.
Her image still remained shrined in his memory and
heart.
“And my Romeo coat? Where is that?” he said,
with a mournful smile. “Ah, I recollect; I will go and
look at it, even if it throws me back once more to those
times. Should I avoid these tender memories? No—no!
a thousand times!”
And going to his chamber the Doctor opened a closet,
and after some time spent in searching, drew forth the
coat which he had worn on that night, whose events we
have chronicled in former pages of this history.
“Twenty-five years nearly,” he murmured; “that is
a long time. Ah! how all that past revives for me!
There again is the crowd; there the bright faces, the
good true-hearted friends, the old-fashioned dresses, the
trembling form of Barry!”
The Doctor mused long with dreamy eyes—all the past
seemed to defile before him with its bright faces and gay
scenes. Then sighing deeply, he took the coat and was
about to fold it again, and put it away, when he felt something
in the pocket. He drew this something out; it was a
small red sandal-wood bracelet, such as are worn by girls.
For a moment he sat gazing at the bracelet in astonishment;
but suddenly his eyes lighted up with merriment,
and the old odd smile passed over his lips.
“Who would have thought it!” he said, “this bracelet
has actually been in this pocket for nearly twenty-five
years. It was Josephine's! I remember now distinctly
how I obtained it on the evening I played Romeo. We
were coming out together, and the young lady complimented
me upon my style of playing it. `The good
opinion of no one pleases me so much,' I said. What a
joyous heart beat in my bosom then! And then Josephine,
that bright child timidly gave me this! `to make
me her knight,” she said!”
The Doctor mused and smiled, holding the bracelet
absently, his eyes fixed on the carpet.
“Ah! those days are gone;” he murmured, “youth is
so short, manhood comes so soon; ere long old age will
chill me wholly. My strength even now is waning, and
time, after destroying my heart and memory, will also annihilate
my existence. Oh, merciful Father! let me not lose
that past—may I never lose the memory of my childhood
and my boyhood! May those who have it in their power
to revive those memories, do so—in whatever manner;
whether by a word, a picture, a piece of music, or—”
“A note, sir,” said a voice behind the Doctor, “a note
from Miss Emberton.”
The Doctor was struck with this apposite continuation
of his sentence; he took the note with a smile, opened it,
and read:
“Miss Josephine Emberton is almost ashamed to trespass
on the time and kindness of Doctor Courtlandt, especially
so short a time after his arrival. But presuming,
on her long acquaintance, she asks as a favor that he will
call on her some time to-day, if it should be perfectly
convenient, assuring him that he will be able to assist
her in a very annoying matter.”
“Away with dreams; here is the waking existence!
away with imagination; here is reality!” exclaimed Doctor
Courtlandt. And putting the bracelet in his pocket,
after carefully folding up and restoring to its place the
Romeo coat, he descended. Mrs. Courtlandt met him.
“I must go to see Miss Emberton by particular request,
aunt,” he said, “here is her note. My farm business
must wait.”
And leaving the note with Mrs. Courtlandt, he went
and ordered his horse. In a quarter of an hour he was
in the saddle, and on his way to Miss Emberton's.
He returned in the afternoon, and on again seeing Mrs.
Courtlandt, smiled.
“What was the business—the `annoying matter,' I
mean, nephew?” asked the old lady.
“Guess.”
“I can not.”
“To tell her if a man who offered himself for an overseer,
was capable or not.”
“Could not her brother?”
“Oh; Mr. Robert has not studied farming; I have,
you know—but still, Miss Emberton should have sent
for you; you are a much better one than myself.”
“Pshaw!”
“But that was not the most striking part of the
affair.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can you imagine who the man was who desired to
fill the position of overseer at the Glades?”
“No; I never could guess.”
“Mr. Huddleshingle.”
“What! he who in old times—whom Brother Jacob—”
“Yes—the very same!”
“And how did you arrange it; is he Miss Emberton's
overseer?”
“No, no—upon seeing me he became very embarrassed
and angry, and refused to live at the Glades, saying he
had changed his mind. He will go to the West, he says,
to-morrow; and I feel little commiseration for him. He
never was an honest man.”
“That was a most scandalous trick of his.”
“Yes, yes, aunt; but this entails on me the discovery
of another overseer for Miss Emberton. Well, I must go
and consult her on the subject. She is a most agreeable
person, aunt,” said the Doctor, thoughtfully, “and less
changed than I imagined.”
“I always told you Josephine was an excellent girl.
She is little altered in character, though much more
sedate.”
“I returned some of her property—an old bracelet;
and we had a very hearty old time laugh. Really she is
a very agreeable woman, excellent Mrs. Courtlandt! But
where is Max?”
“There he is coming,” said Mrs. Courtlandt.
