University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
INTRIGUE AND LOVE—SHUFFLING THE CARDS.

Days and nights pass with singular rapidity at a southern plantation.
Visitor succeeds to visitor, dinner to dinner, and every day
is employed, during the winter holidays at least in preparing for
the recreation of its successor. What, with old acquaintances to
be seen, and the promotion of Ned's affair, I was incessantly employed.
Besides, the Major's circle was perpetually full; and I
was frequently detained at “the Barony” engaged in seeing visitors,
when both Ned and myself desired to be abroad. The day
after the hunt, after making a circuit and two or three calls, we
found ourselves, at one o'clock, once more at the Girardin estate,
where I left my friend, to make another visit to the stately Madame
Agnes-Theresa. Ned, meanwhile, wandered off to the
grove between the two places, an anxious waiter upon that friendly
Providence which is supposed generally to take the affairs of
love in hand. Talk of true love's course not running smoothly!
The fact is, that, after certain consideration and a certain experience,
I am assured that few true lovers ever have much reason to
complain. Love has an instinct in discovering its proper mate,

and suppose there are obstacles? These really heighten the
charm of pursuit, and increase the luxuries of conquest. Stolen
fruit is proverbially the sweetest, and stolen kisses are such as the
lips never quite lose the taste of. The first kiss lingers in memory,
softening the heart to fondness, even after the time has passed
when any kiss affords a pleasure; and, to man or woman, I suspect,
he or she who has first taught us the subtle and delicious
joy of that first kiss, is remembered with a sense of gratitude, even
when there is no warmer emotion inspired by the same person.
To Ned and the lovely Paula, I am persuaded that the stolen interviews
which I succeeded in procuring them, will be among their
dearest recollections in after days. Not that dear little Paula
ever crept away to that grove without fear and misgiving. She
wasn't sure that it was right to do so; but that did not lessen the
pleasure of the thing. Again and again they met, and the child
murmured, and sighed, and wept, and was made happy through
all her fears and tears. And Ned was happy too, though he always
came back growling from the interview. It was always so
short. Paula was always in such a hurry to break away! Certainly,
make them as happy as you please, you cannot easily
make young lovers contented. He who steals the fruit, is always
sorry to leave the tree behind him. Enough, that on this, as on
the preceding evening, I was quite successful in beguiling the
grandmother with long discourse, thus affording Paula an opportunity
to steal away and meet her lover. Do not be angry with
her, ye prudes who have survived these sympathies of seventeen.
You have done likewise, every one of you, in turn, or, if you have
not, the merit of forbearance was none of yours. You would
have done so, loving with the innocent fondness of Paula, and
with such a manly and noble swain as Ned Bulmer to persuade
you to the groves. Well, they met, and mingled sighs and promises
of fidelity; but in vain did Ned entreat his beauty to a
clandestine marriage. Believing that he should never conquer
the prejudices of his father, or subdue the stubborn pride of Madame
Bonneau, Ned was thus desperate in his projects. But
sweet little Paula was firm on this subject.

“I will never love any but you, Edward—never marry any but
you—but cannot consent to a secret marriage.”

“But they will always oppose us, Paula!” said the lover, vehemently.

“Then I must die!” murmured the maiden, with her head
drooping on his bosom. And then he protested that she should
not die; that he would sooner die himself; nay, kill a great many
other people, not omitting the obstinate grandmother, and the
cruel father, and many other desperate things; all of which dear
little Paula begged him not to do, “for her sake,”—and for her
sake only, he magnanimously consented to forbear these bloody
performances. But why linger on the child prattle of young
lovers—so sweet but so simple; so ridiculous, to our thoughts,
as we grow older; yet so precious and full of meaning when we
took part in it, and in which the heart never becomes quite too
old to partake, when ever the opportunity and the object are afforded
it. At last they separated, with the sweet kiss, and the assuring
promise of fidelity; both believing implicitly as if specially
guaranteed by heaven. Paula reappeared, and relieved me of
my friendly drudgeries with grandmamma, suffering the same rebuke,
as before, for her disappearance. The next day, the Major,
Ned and myself, rode over to Mrs. Mazyck's, about four miles distant,
to make our obeisance. Our readers know what are the
objects of the `Baron.' Ned, already, I fancy, suspected the designs
of the father, from the pains he took to discourage them.
But, supposing me ignorant of these designs, and knowing my
passion for Beatrice, he was scrupulously careful to avoid the subject.
His deportment, when we met the ladies, gave me no occasion
for jealousy. We spent an hour with them, and the Major,
devoting himself to the mother, left the field to us wholly, so far

as the young lady was concerned. Ned, in a degree following
his father's example, now left the field to me, and strolled off from
the parlour into the library, giving me sufficient opportunity to
play what card I pleased in the game. When the Major and
Mrs. Mazyck returned from the garden, whither they had gone
to trace the progress of certain rare seedlings in the hot-house,
they found Beatrice and myself, alone together.

The mother looked grave, and the Major impatiently asked
after his son. Of course, neither of us knew where he was.—
When he was hunted up, we found him stretched, at length,
on the sofa in the library, enveloped in the most downy embraces
of sleep. The Major roused him with a fierce shake
of the shoulder, and looked at him with the scowl of a thunder-storm.
Ned took the whole affair very quietly; and we mounted
our horses a few moments after. When fairly off, and out of the
gates, the old man blazed out with his volcanic matter.

“A d—d pretty puppy you are, sir, to go to sleep when visiting
a lady! Do you not know, sir, how much I respect Mrs.
Mazyck, sir?”

“Well, sir, so do I, but you took her off yourself. You did'nt
leave me to entertain her. I had reason to be jealous, sir, of
your attentions.”

“Jealous! The d—l! But I left you and Dick to entertain
the young lady, sir.”

“And I assure you, father, that Dick is perfectly adequate to
the task alone. I felt that I should be de trop.”

“De—what! why the devil will you abuse my ears with that
atrocious lingo? Leave it off, sir, if you please; in my hearing,
at least. I repeat, sir, you treated Miss Beatrice with marked disrespect.”

“You are quite mistaken, sir. I treated her with marked consideration.
Ask the question of herself, and she will tell you
that she greatly appreciates the attentions which I paid her. Be

assured, she has no sort of cause for, or feeling of, disappointment.”

“Blockhead! you know not the mischief you do by this conduct.”

“Indeed, sir! Pray how? Anything serious?”

“Puppy!” exclaimed the complimentary sire, looking at me
with a glance, as if to say—“what a beautiful game of mine does
the fellow strive to spoil,”—but he forbore his speech, and only
used his spurs; driving them into his horse's flanks, and setting
off at a canter that soon left us far behind him.

“Let him go, Dick, while we quietly jog on, and do the civil
thing to one another. Dad is by no means in a complimentary
mood to-day. The truth is, he is for making up a match between
Beatrice Mazyck and myself, but that match won't burn, mon
ami. I see what he's after, and must prepare for the explosion.
It will blow out, and blow over, before many days.”

When we got to “the Barony,” the Major was no where to be
seen. He had retired to his chamber to soothe his anger by a
temporary resort to solitude.

“But,” says Ned, “solitude was never a favourite passion with
him; and we shall have him down upon us directly. Meanwhile,
let us have some wine.”

We had just filled our glasses when the old man, sure enough,
made his appearance. He was cloudy, but no longer savage. He
treated me with rather marked civilities, which I did not exactly
like; but for Ned he had very few words. Dinner brought him
soothing; and that night, when Ned left us together, as he thought
it his policy to do, the Major recovered his wonted kindness and
frankness, over a hot glass of whiskey toddy.

“That boy put me out to-day, Dick, as he gave you all the
chances. Of course you made the best use of them. I confess
it makes me angry. His reluctance spoils a favourite plan. I
don't despair of him yet, and the game will need to be played

frequently, before it finishes. You have made a point in it; and
I could almost say that I am glad, for your sake, that you have.
Certainly, Dick, though you may see me ruffled with that cub of
mine, in this matter, don't suppose that I shall ever feel any unkindness
towards you. Go ahead, as I said before. There shall
be `fair play' between us.”

Such was the purport of our chat that night, the Major getting
over his moody humour before he had entirely got through
his toddy. And so, day and night went by in rapid succession;
society daily; the hunt, the dinner, the visitor, and, I confess, the
nightly potation, sometimes with larger liberties than are usually
accorded by the just Temperance standards. Another morning
call upon Madame Girardin, which she received only as my own
proper tribute to herself—proof of my good taste and good sense,
and her acknowledged rights—and then came a formal invitation
to the widow Mazyck's on a certain evening, by which we knew
that a grand party was intended. Ned smiled, as the billets were
handed in by the waiter.

“Miching malico!” quoth he. “The fight thickens, Dick.—
It will soon become highly interesting. Well; we shall go of
course. I have a faith in parties, and some taste for them. I
love dancing, and I shall find Paula there, who is an angel on the
wing on such occasions. I mean to be quite attentive this time,
so that Dad shall have no reason to complain. Whether I shall
altogether please him by the sort of person I shall choose, on
whom to bestow my attentions, is a question which he may resolve
for my benefit, or his own, hereafter.”

When, an hour after, in the library with the Major, he showed
me his invitation, and said—

“Well, Dick, here are the chances for both of us. I shall have
a talk with Ned, and try to spirit him on to his duty. He can't altogether
neglect the lady; and when he sees Beatrice in contrast
with his little Frenchified puppet, I am in hopes that he will see

her somewhat with your eyes. At all events, Dick, if we are to
be beaten by you in the game, it will be some consolation to me
that you are the successful player. But I shall do my best to thwart
you, my boy, if I can, so long as it is possible to do any thing for
Ned. But all in love, Dick, be assured; nothing in malice!”

And with a warm and friendly gripe of the hand, we separated
for the night.