CHAPTER VI.
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Henry Beckford spent much more time at home,
after Miss Murray became his mother's guest, than
had been his custom for some time previously. The
while, with the skill of a most accomplished tactician,
the lady played off her powers upon the cousins.
Henry, she piqued by her witticisms—by her indifference—
by calling him tauntingly, Master Henry, and
affecting to consider him as one hardly old enough
to have his attentions received in any other light than
that of badinage. She held him on by playing off,
wounded his vanity, by occasionally showing a marked
preference for Ralph, and this kept him perpetually
on the spur to gain some interest in her feelings.
Sometimes, particularly when alone with him, she
would glide from badinage to sentiment, while Henry,
whose passions became daily more and more interested,
would forget, in the belief of reciprocity, all
of what to him were bickerings of the past. He felt,
if she did not, and under her fascinations, practised,
as he believed, to win him, by one not unwon, he
would deem himself in the land of fairy, until Ralph
would enter, and the lady would carelessly turn from
him, and chat with his cousin, apparently unconscious
of his presence, until on some question put to
her by himself, she would recognise his existence, by
turning towards him for a moment, and giving a
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hurried answer. Such conduct to a man of Henry's
character, who had much of earthliness in all his
feelings, with an overweening vanity, was well calculated
to win him—that is, to make him determine
to win, if only to be revenged upon the torturer, and
heal his wounded pride. Sometimes Henry would,
by a violent effort, avoid the lady, saluting her, but
with passing courtesy at the table, and coming into
her presence when she sat with his father, merely to
inquire—as he would have it thought—after his father's
health. He would appear to be violently taken
with some one of the many young ladies who called
to see his mother, or Miss Murray, and he would get
enthusiastic in expatiating upon her loveliness, before
Helen; but she would become more enthusiastic
even than himself, and where he would hint a fault,
she would proclaim a virtue, advising him by all
means to court the lady.
“She will just suit you, Master Henry,” she would
say laughingly, “and as courtship is said to be the
happiest period of our lives, you can make your
courtship a very long one, sir, and marry when you
arrive at the proper age.”
With Ralph, Miss Murray's manners were entirely
different; she never called him Master Ralph—
never did anything to wound his sensitiveness—did
all she could to draw him from the shell of shiness
in which he was ensconced; listened to him when
he read to his uncle, and elicited his remarks; half
agreed and half differed with him to draw him out;
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would fix her eye in thoughtfulness away from him
when he had uttered a striking thought; then turn
for a moment a full gaze on him from her lustrous
eye, and pass to the piano, perhaps, and touchingly,
for she was a most accomplished musician, would
strike a note or two of some gentle air, which as
much as said, if I were asked I could sing for you—
a young gentleman much shier than even Ralph,
would walk across the room to her side and beg
that she would play—would he not? And it was
astonishing how fast Ralph's reserve wore away.
Though he had not the gay grace that his cousin,
formerly at least, had in her company, or his sprightly
wit and fashionable frivolity, he acquired a quiet deferential
ease that evidently sprung from admiration
of the lady who could so wile him from his morbidness,
and make him forget, happy forgetfulness to a
sensitive man!—himself. There is this difference,
perhaps, between a conceited vain man, and a morbidly
diffident one, that the first is happy in proportion
as you make him think of himself, and the other
in proportion as you make him forget himself.
It could not be discovered yet whether Ralph's
admiration had taken the tint of tenderer emotions,
though Henry believed Ralph's feelings, judging
from his own, involved. Certain it is that Ralph
showed no jealousy of his cousin, and if he felt it he
curbed it and gave way to what he considered superior
claims; for whenever they were together in
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the lady's company, Ralph, instead of pressing himself
upon her attention, yielded always to Henry.
When the three were together in the garden, (and
Mr. Beckford had a magnificent flower garden attached
to his house,) Ralph often lingered behind his
cousin and Miss Murray; and not until she attracted
him to her side, by addressing him, or asking for
some flower near him, did he interrupt Henry; but
when she did, with a tone that showed an evident
pleasure that she had addressed him, and as evident
a desire to please, he answered with knightly and
sincere homage, or plucked the flower and presented
it when she wished it.
Ralph's manner, so full of respectful regard, was
so different from that of the worldlings by whom
Miss Murray had been surrounded—who appeared
to speak the compliment they did not feel, while Ralph
appeared to feel what he could not speak—that it
touched her more than she was aware; and the
thought would often cross her that Ralph was nursing
a passion for her that he believed to be hopeless and
dared not reveal. And as Ralph sometimes left her
with Henry, when alone in the withdrawing-room,
she would doubt if it could be so; and to test it tried
to awaken his jealousy by her smiles on Henry, or
to draw him out by flirtation at a party, for she had
succeeded in making him her beau to several; or
in tenderness alone with him in their moonlight
walks home; so that by the very means in which
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Henry became interested in her, she became interested
in Ralph.
Henry was acquainted with the Lormans, and
had been a boyish beau of Ruth's, in their better
days; but he had not called to see them for some
time before they moved to the residence in which
we introduced them to our readers, until about the
period when the suspicion entered his mind that
Ralph was pleased with Miss Murray, and that she
was not indifferent to him—then Henry made them
repeated visits, and the cousins often met there. With
Mrs. Lorman, Henry was a decided favourite: his
air of ton had always struck her; and he was very
much addicted to making flattering speeches of
which she was very fond; besides he would be the
possessor of a large fortune. After the renewal of
Henry's visits, which weekly became more frequent,
Mrs. Lorman insisted to her husband that he had
serious intentions of addressing Ruth; and as Ralph
might be in the way, and as Henry was much
the more preferable match for her, that the former's
visit's should be discouraged, particularly as it was
evident that Ralph only called as an acquaintance.
Ruth she lectured at length upon the subject, to
which Ruth replied with firmness that she did not
believe Henry had any more serious intentions than
Ralph; but her step-mother would hear no such
thing, and overwhelmed her with a Xantippean
lecture, to which Ruth made no reply.
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Mr. Lorman soon began to be of his wife's opinion,
for Henry held long conversations with him
upon his affairs, which was not his habit, and expressed
the regret that he was not of age, so that
having his fortune he might assist him. He felt that
he liked Ralph the best, but then he had no particular
reason for believing that Ralph was attached to
Ruth; and he reflected, if he should be, that Ralph
had little or nothing independent of his father: and
that should the son make a match with a poor girl
he would be certain to displease the miser, from
whom at any rate he could expect nothing during
his lifetime.
While matters remained in this posture, the cousins
one day went a gunning together. They rode
on horseback, taking their guns with them, intending
to spend the day in sport at Stockbridge Farm.
Lately the cousins had not been thrown much alone,
and, by a tacit consent, when they were, each
seemed desirous to avoid speaking either of Helen
Murray or of Ruth Lorman, for neither alluded to
them in conversation. Talking on general subjects—
though both, particularly Henry, were more silent
than usual—they arrived at the farm. In their pursuit
of game they became unconsciously separated,
and they did not meet again till each returned to the
farm house; when, on exhibiting the spoils of the
field, it appeared that Henry had been the more
successful shot.
“I take it, Ralph,” said Henry, exultingly, “that
I am the best shot.”
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“So it would seem,” replied Ralph, “but you
have been shooting doves. I could have shot them
too, but I have a superstition against it.”
“Ha! have you! hang doves! I shoot all kinds
of them—I am for roaming free on nature's great
common—for granting no immunities to bird or
beast,” said Henry, in a reckless tone; “but come,”
he continued, “let us test our skill at a mark.”
“Agreed!” said Ralph. “Go on to the oak tree
by the mill-race, and I'll in and get a piece of chalk
to mark the tree, and be with you in a moment.”
“I'll test him,” said Henry to himself, glancing
towards his cousin, as the latter entered the
house. “How Helen Murray laughed at me the
other day when I hinted love to her! And does the
modest son of the miser—my cousin too—dare to
attempt to cross me—that I should be laughed at!
And when I said to her, after my anger at her treatment
had subsided, `Let there be peace between
us!' for her to tell me that `She never warred with
gentlemen, and that no gentleman ever warred with
her!' And then she gave me the tip of her jewelled
finger when I offered her my hand. I will not believe
she means aught with my modest cousin but
flirtation. She has involved his gentle heart, and
when his despair drives him to an acknowledgment,
she'll blow him sky high, as I suppose she would
blow me if I came out plumply. And he has
Miss Ruth in reservation! Well, as he has dared
to enter the lists with me with our superb virago
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though he has not the courage to speak of it—
or scarcely to show the intent when I am by—
I will enter upon his reservation. And when
Miss Helen has let him down the wind, we'll see
if a prosperous gale comes from Lorman's. I would
almost marry Miss Modesty to thwart him, if I
could not do so without.”
The further reflections of Henry were interrupted
by the approach of Ralph, who, as he joined him,
said—
“I have been out of practice for some time,
Henry; I expect the day is yours, unless I make a
chance hit.”
“Ah! do you think so? You don't seem disposed
to compliment yourself, Mr. Beckford. You do not
hold, I hope, that you are one of those who, according
to the proverb, are fortune's care. Will all your
hits be of that kind?” Henry spoke in a cold, constrained
tone.
“I hope not, Henry,” replied Ralph, good humouredly;
“but what's the matter with you: there
seems premeditation in your hits.”
“Not at all, not at all,” replied Henry, quickly.
“What are your conclusions about college—or,
rather, what are your father's?”
“I told you, you know, some time since, I expect to
go. I have not spoken to my father, though, on the
subject, lately.”
While conversing, they reached the oak by the
mill-race, and Ralph made the mark on the tree, and
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they stepped off to the proper distance and loaded
their guns.
“Fire first,” said Henry.
Ralph lifted his gun to fire, and while in the act of
taking aim, Henry said:
“Ralph, between you and I and your gun, I don't
think much of our little friend Ruth—I think she has
inclinations to be no better than she should be.”
At the instant Ralph started and fired, but his ball
went so wide of the mark that he did not even hit the
tree, which was a very large one. He turned to
Henry, and in an astonished and indignant tone, with
lowering brow, asked—
“What do you mean?”
“Mean! what I say, Mr. Ralph Beckford,” replied
Henry, with a dark smile curling on his lip at the
manner of Ralph.
Ralph struck the butt of his gun on the ground with
violence, and gazed at Henry with such a scrutinizing
and scornful glance, that, proud-spirited as Henry
was, and notwithstanding his belief in his own superiority
to his cousin in every respect, he quailed
beneath it, when Ralph inquired, after a moment, in
a tone of great apparent coolness—
“Why do you think so?”
“Oh, impressions,” said Henry, with a toss of the
head; “we get impressions, you know, we can
scarcely tell why.”
“And utter them for the same good reason, without a
wherefore,” exclaimed Ralph, with deep indignation.
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“Henry, I thought better of you. You know that is
as false and as foul a suspicion as was ever uttered.
Yes, sir, frown your blackest, you cannot look blacker
than that falsehood. It is well that you have uttered
it only to myself; you are my cousin; more, you
are the son of my benefactor and my uncle. The
bare insinuation dies where it was uttered,—it makes
no more impression against the purity of Ruth Lorman,
sir, than would the smoke from your fowlingpiece
make on heaven. Think, Henry, think it is
against a poor defenceless girl, who has no brother
to protect her, who has had more than her share of
misfortunes, who has had few comforters, from whom
the world fell off, as the leaves will fall from these
trees when the wintry winds come, that you have
uttered that calumny. I leave you, sir, to your reflections;
as I have no part or lot in them, I leave you,
sir; but I warn you to keep that calumny to yourself,
or I shall forget that your father is my uncle,
and that you are my cousin.” And Ralph turned
away from him, and stepped towards the house.
“I have a great mind to blow you through,” exclaimed
Henry in a rage, pointing his gun at Ralph.
“And if you did,” said Ralph, facing him, “the
deed would not be half so foul as that falsehood.”
Henry presented his gun, as if to take a certain
aim; but he reflected a moment, and upon a sudden
impulse threw it from him, and burst into a forced fit
of laughter. Ralph turned and walked away. Henry
picked up his gun, advanced toward him, and said:
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“Don't be foolish, Ralph. I did but jest. I wished
to discover what influence our little friend had on
you—ha! ha! ha! For aught I know or believe,
she is as chaste as what Shakespeare says of the
snow on Dian's temple—ha! ha! If aught were
surmised against the fair Helen, would you likewise
be her champion?”
“Yes, sir, if it were necessary. But Miss Murray,
sir, is not as friendless as Miss Lorman. She has
brothers, wealth, and many admirers. I hope, sir, you
hold that you yourself have reasons, more than the
mere motives of friendship to the unprotected, to move
you in her behalf against any inquisitive, malicious
jester, whatsoever; I certainly have.”
So speaking Ralph quickened his step and left his
cousin, who, surprised at the spirit Ralph had displayed,
and burning with ill-suppressed indignation and
shame, for he felt that he had acted meanly, did not
pretend to keep pace with him, but lagged behind,
ruminating darkly upon what had passed, and particularly
upon the last words of Ralph in relation to
Miss Murray.
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Thomas, Frederick W. (Frederick William), 1806-1866 [1836], East and west, volume 1 (Carey, Lea, & Blanchard, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf385v1].
