University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

Descending to the breakfast room, he found Leslie, as
usual, quiet, cordial, and gentlemanly, beguiling the moments
of expectancy with a newspaper, while his daughter presided
at the coffee urn. Leslie happened to be in a garrulous mood,
and talked incessantly about his former military frontier life,
of which, though he had detested it in the experience, he was
very fond in the retrospect. Morton, who had some acquaintance
with such matters, was a tempting auditor, though he
would gladly have exchanged the profuse anecdotes of white-wolf
running and deer shooting for a few moments' conversation
with Miss Edith Leslie. This her father's busy tongue
put out of the question; but Morton consoled himself with
the thought that to bask in her presence was, in itself, no
mean privilege.

His cup of nectar, such as it was, was in a few minutes
dashed with gall; for the street door opened without a summons
from the bell, a man's step sounded in the hall, and
Horace Vinal came in, with a bundle of papers in his hand.

Vinal had become of late all-important to his former guardian.
He was his chief business agent, and Leslie was never

tired of expatiating on his talents, energy, application, and
elevated character. In short, he was fast becoming dependent
on him, and felt towards him the affection which a weak
and kindly man may feel towards one of far greater force and
capacity, whom he believes sincerely attached to him and
devoted to his interests.

Vinal, as he entered, had the air of a man versed in affairs,
and acquainted both with that vast and various theatre which
men call the world, and with those conventional circles
which ladies call the world. He had been absent for a few
days on a mission of business, from which he had returned
the evening before. Leslie received him with a most warm
greeting, and his daughter with a smile of easy friendship,
which was wormwood to the troubled spirit of Morton. The
two rivals — for such, by a common instinct, each felt the
other to be — regarded each other with faces of courtesy and
hearts of wrath.

“How came this fellow here?” thought Vinal, as he smilingly
grasped his classmate's hand.

“The devil take him!” thought Morton, as he returned
the greeting, but with a much worse grace.

They seated themselves on opposite sides of the table,
while the Helen who had kindled this covert warfare in their
breasts dispensed a cup of coffee to each in turn.

There was a singular contrast between the adversaries.
On the one side, the self-dependent Vinal, with little health
and no other wealth than his busy and able brain; with thin
features, wan cheek, and pale, firm lip; with piercing observation
and rapid judgment; self-contained, self-controlled,

self-confiding. But for his measuring five feet ten, he might
have stood for Dryden's Achitophel: —

On the other side sat the pet of fortune, fondled, if he
could have endured such blandishment, in the very lap of
affluence; with a cheek brown with wind and weather, and
an eye which, as he often boasted, could look the sun in the
face. His nature was so happily tempered, that to the degree
of nervous stimulus which engenders, or is engendered by, an
energetic character, he joined an indefinite capacity both of
endurance and enjoyment; and yet the possessor of all these
gifts was just now in a mood of extreme dissatisfaction and
discomfort.

Leslie began to speak with Vinal upon business. Morton
snatched the opportunity to converse with the person most
interesting to him. Vinal glanced at him askance. Each
began to hate the other, after his own fashion. Morton
would gladly have come to open rupture, and flung defiance at
his rival; but Vinal was far remote from any wish of the kind.

Morton remained at the house as long as he in decency
could, and then bade them good morning, execrating Vinal
as he went down the steps.

That very afternoon, as he was walking near his cottage in
the country, ruminating on Edith Leslie and Horace Vinal,
he raised his head and saw a lady and gentleman, on horseback,
emerging into view from a wooded bend of the road.

A thrill ran through him from head to foot. They were the
two persons of whom he was thinking. He bowed to Miss
Leslie. She replied with a frank bow and smile; and Vinal,
as he passed, made an easy nonchalant gesture of recognition.
The jealous pedestrian turned and looked after them. They
had ridden a few rods when Vinal also turned his head, but,
catching Morton's eye, instantly averted it again. Morton
fairly ground his teeth with anger and vexation. To be jealous
was bad enough; but that Vinal should be conscious of
his jealousy, and perhaps triumph in it, goaded him beyond
endurance. He went home, saddled and bridled a horse with
his own hands, mounted, and ranged the country for an
hour or two, to get rid of the vulture that was preying on
him. At length he grew more rational, and was able to
reflect that Vinal's riding with Miss Leslie did not necessarily
imply that he stood, in any special sense, within her
favor, since he was the near relative of her mother-in-law,
and had formerly been for years an inmate of her father's
house.

On the next day, at a time when he thought that Vinal
must be safe in his office, Morton took heart of grace, and
called on Miss Leslie. An old woman, an ancient dependant
of the family, raised, as she would have phrased it, in the
backwoods of Matherton, opened the door.

“Is Miss Leslie at home?”

“No; she was took sick yesterday, very sudden.”

“Miss Leslie!” ejaculated the visitor.

“Yes; the doctor says she's goin' to die, sartin; right
away, may be.”

“What?” gasped Morton.

“It wasn't only this morning we heered on it,” said the
old Yankee housekeeper, “and Miss Edith's gone up to
Matherton, to tend on her.”

“O, you mean Mrs. Leslie.”

“Yes; Miss Leslie, Miss Edith's mother-in-law; she never
was a well woman, ever since I've knowed her.”

And the old woman closed the door; while Morton walked
away, without knowing in what direction he was moving.