Daughters of the Revolution and Their Times

by Charles Carleton Coffin

  XII.

  A NEW ENGLAND GIRL.

  Lord Upperton was prolonging his stay in America. He visited New Yorkand Philadelphia, and was once more in Boston. He called upon ThomasHutchinson, governor; upon Thomas Flucker, secretary; and upon theofficials of the Custom House. He accepted many invitations to dinnerfrom gentlemen and ladies, and took excursions into the country onhorseback. Lady Frankland hospitably entertained him in her countryhouse, where he enjoyed himself shooting squirrels and partridges.Returning to Boston, he frequently called to pay his respects to Mr.and Mrs. Newville, never failing to ask for Miss Newville, prolonginghis calls till past the ringing of the nine o'clock bell. He was verycourteous, and had many entertaining stories to tell of life inEngland, of his ancestral home at Halford. The old castle was graywith age; the ivy, ever green upon its towers, hanging in gracefulfestoons from the battlements. Herds of deer roamed the surroundingpark; pheasants crooned and cackled beneath the stalwart oaks; haresburrowed in the forest; nightingales made the midnight melodious withtheir dulcet singing. Old tapestries adorned the walls of the spaciousapartments. In the banqueting halls were the portraits ofancestors--lords, dukes, and earls reaching down to the first EarlUpperton created by William of Normandy, for valor on the field ofHastings. On the maternal side were portraits of beautiful ladies whohad been maids of honor and train-bearers at the coronations ofMargaret and Elizabeth. The brain of Ruth could not keep track of allthe branches of the ancestral tree; she could only conclude it wasstalwart and strong.

  Lord Upperton was heartily welcomed by Mrs. Newville, who esteemed itone of heaven's blessings to be thus honored. On an evening, after avisit from his lordship, Mrs. Newville, with radiant face, drew Ruthto her bosom. "My dear," she said, "I have joyful information for you.Lord Upperton has done us the distinguished honor to say to yourfather and me that he has become so much interested in our daughterthat he presumes to ask the privilege of paying his addresses to her.It is not, Ruth, altogether a surprise to me, for I have seen hisgrowing fondness for you."

  "Fondness for me, mother?"

  "Yes, dear; he has not been able to keep his eyes off you of late. Ihave noticed that if you had occasion to leave the room, he fidgetedtill you returned. We have given our consent, and he will callto-morrow evening to make a formal proposal to you."

  "But I do not desire he should make a proposal to me, mother!"

  "Don't want him to make an offer of marriage, child! Why, Ruth, whatare you thinking of? Not wish to receive the attentions of a noblelord! I am astonished. Do you forget that he can trace his lineagedown to the time of William the Conqueror, and I don't know how muchfarther? You surprise me!"

  "I doubt not Lord Upperton may have a noble ancestry, but I don't seehow that concerns me. I am not going to marry his ancestors, am I?"

  "Why, daughter, he has a crest,--an escutcheon of azure, sable, andsanguine, a lion rampant, a unicorn passant, and an eagle volent."

  "What would a crest do for me?"

  The question puzzled Mrs. Newville. "I really do not know, daughter,just what it would do, but it would be painted on your coach; it wouldbe embroidered on the banners hanging in Lord Upperton's baronialhall. Just think of it! The lion, the emblem of strength, the unicornof energy, the eagle of swiftness and far-sightedness,--it wouldrepresent all those qualities!"

  "But what if one has not the qualities?"

  "I am not so sure, daughter, but that you have those verycharacteristics in a remarkable degree. I know you have strength ofwill and energy. What you undertake you carry through; and you arefar-sighted, you see what others of your age do not see. I do not sayit to flatter you, daughter, but I am sure Lord Upperton'scoat-of-arms is emblematic of the character of the lady whom he wishesto see mistress of Halford Castle," said Mrs. Newville, with radiantface.

  It seemed to her that the fond hope of years was about to be realized;that the time was at hand when the Newville family was to be ennobled;when she, herself, could bid farewell to America, and be admitted tothe charmed society of dukes, barons, princes, kings, and queens.

  "Lord Upperton will call to-morrow evening, dear, and I will haveMadame Riggoletti come in the afternoon to do your hair. You hadbetter wear your corn-colored satin brocade, which is so becoming toyou."

  "No, mother, I do not wish to wear it. I prefer to dress plainly. Iwant Lord Upperton to see me just as I am, a simple girl, who has hadfew advantages to fit her for the life in which he moves. I cannotappear to be what I am not."

  Ruth paused a moment as if considering whether she should speak thewords upon her lips.

  "Lord Upperton, you say, desires to pay his addresses to me and youhave given consent. It is an honor for any lady to receive attentionsfrom a gentleman of superior station, but I cannot promise you,mother, that I shall look with favor upon his suit, honorable thoughit may be."

  It was said calmly but with resolution.

  "I dare say, daughter, you may think so now. It is quite natural. Itis just what I said when my mother informed me that Theodore, yourfather, had asked permission to pay his addresses to me. I said Iwould not see him; but I did, and have been very glad ever since.After a little while, I used to listen for his footsteps. There werenone like his. He always called Thursday evening after thelecture,[49] and I used to sit by the window an hour before it wastime for him to put in an appearance, looking for him. So it will bewith you, child. Now go to bed, dear, and think of the great honorwhich Lord Upperton is conferring upon us in asking for your hand!"

  [Footnote 49: The lecture on Thursday of each week was instituted bythe Puritans soon after the settlement of Boston. There was a moral ifnot a legal obligation upon every person to attend it. Consequently inthe earlier years of the Colony all business ceased, shops wereclosed, usual occupations suspended, and the entire community flockedto the meetinghouse of the parish to listen to the discourse of theminister. At the time this story begins, the obligation was not quiteso binding as in former years.]

  "Shall I give him my hand, if I cannot at the same time give him myheart?" Ruth asked, her earnest eyes scanning her mother's face.

  "Oh, but you will do both, dear. Many a girl has asked the samequestion at first, but soon found that the heart and hand wenttogether."

  "I think," Ruth replied, "if one may judge from outward appearances,there are some women who have given their hands to their husbands, butnever their hearts. I see faces, now and then, which make me think ofwhat I have read descriptive of deserts where there is no water toquench the thirst, no oasis with its green palms giving grateful shadefrom the summer heat,--faces that tell of hunger and thirst for thebread and water of love and sympathy."

  "You fancy it is so, and possibly here and there you may find amismated couple, but, daughter, you will see things in a differentlight when once you get acquainted with Lord Upperton. I believe thereis not another girl in Boston who would not jump at such a catch. Youmay not fancy him this moment, but in a short time you will say thereis not another like him in all the world. You feel just as I didtowards Theodore. At first, I almost hated him, because he presumed toask permission to visit me, but now he is the best man that everlived. Just think of the offer that has come to you in contrast withwhat your father had to offer me. Lord Upperton brings you his highstation in life, his nobility, his long line of ancestors, a barony, acastle with its ivied walls, a retinue of servants, his armorialbearings inscribed on banners borne by Crusaders. He will offer yourank, wealth, privilege, honor at his majesty's court. Theodore hadonly himself to offer me. He was not much then, but he is more now. Ihave done what I could to make him what he is, and now our daughterhas the prospect of wearing laces such as are worn by duchesses; to bereceived at court; to be spoken of as Her Grace. Now to bed, dear, andbe happy in thinking it over."

  "But I do not love Lord Upperton, nor shall I ever care for him."

  "Don't talk in that way, Ruth. You think so now, but when you are oncemarried and begin to enjoy what will be yours,--a coach, waiting
-maidsto do your bidding, and are invited to the court of his majesty theking, and preside over your own table in the great baronial hall, withthe high-born gentlemen and ladies doing you honor, it stands toreason that you will love him who brings these things to you."

  "You speak, mother, of the society in which I shall move, but I haveno taste for such associations."

  "Tush, child; you know nothing about it."

  "Lord Upperton has given me a description of the employment andpleasures of the society in which he moves, and I have no desire toenter it. I shall not find happiness in its circles. I want to be justwhat I am, your daughter, in our happy home."

  "But, Ruth, you cannot always be with us. Your father and I earnestlydesire your future welfare and happiness. I am sure he will besurprised and pained to hear that you do not wish to receive theattentions of Lord Upperton."

  Mr. Newville entered the room. He saw the trouble on the face of hisdaughter.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Ruth thinks she never can love Lord Upperton and does not desire toreceive his attentions, but I have told her it is only a present whim,just as mine was towards you."

  "Of course, daughter," said Mr. Newville, with fatherly dignity, "itcould hardly be expected you would feel any very strong attachment forLord Upperton on so short an acquaintance. Conjugal love is a plant ofslow growth, but I think you would, ere long, appreciate the greathonors and the high privileges which he would confer upon you, andthat your heart would go out to him."

  The troubled look upon the face of the daughter became more intense.Her father as well as her mother would have her receive the attentionsof a man between whom and herself there was no possible sympathy. Whatshould she say? A tear trickled down her cheek: she made no movementto wipe it away, but lifted her loving eyes and gazed steadily intoher father's.

  "Since you both so earnestly desire it I will meet Lord Uppertonto-morrow evening and hear what he has to say," she replied.

  "You could hardly do otherwise. I think the more you see of him thebetter you will like him," said Mr. Newville.

  "Of course you will, my child; and now, dear, think it over in yourchamber. I am sure you will see that a great opportunity has come toyou," said Mrs. Newville, giving her a kiss.

  It was a summer night. The air was fragrant with the perfume of lilacsand apple-blooms. The young moon was going down in the west, throwingits departing beams upon the unfinished tower of King's Chapel. Ruth,looking out from her white-curtained window, beheld a handful of clouddrift across the crescent orb and dissolve in thin air. She could hearthe footsteps of passers along the street growing fainter as theyreceded. The bell on the Old Brick Meetinghouse struck the hour, andthen, in the distance, she heard the watchman's voice, "Ten o'clock,and all is well." With perturbed spirit, she laid her head upon thewhite linen pillow which her own deft hands had made. So Lord Uppertonwas to solicit her heart and hand, and she had consented to meet him.What should she say to him? Why should he, having an acquaintance withthe noble families of England, come across the sea and offer hisattentions to an obscure New England girl, and desire to make hermistress at Halford Castle? Ought she not to feel flattered in havinga noble lord for a lover? The thought did not stir her blood. Why wasshe averse to receiving his attentions? What was there about him thatmade the thought repellent? Was he not a gentleman? Was he notpolite? Did he not show proper respect not only to herself but toeverybody? Why not make an effort to overcome her repugnance to him?Would any other girl in Boston or anywhere else hesitate a moment oversuch an opportunity as had come to her to be called My Lady,--to bemistress of a ducal castle,--a position of power and influence amongthe lords and ladies of the kingdom? To have diamonds and pearls? Tohave precedence over others of lower station in social life? Questionscame in troops before her; vain her attempts to answer them.

  Again the deep tones of the bell rang upon the still night air, andonce more she heard the watchman's voice announce the hour. For amoment it interrupted her reverie, but again the questioning went on.Her father and mother not only had given their consent for LordUpperton to make proposal, but they earnestly desired she shouldbecome his wife. She could understand the motives that animated them.She was her father's idol, her mother's joy--very dear to them. Werethey not ever doing what they could for her? Would not her marriage toLord Upperton contribute to their happiness? Might not her father,through Lord Upperton's influence at court, attain a more exaltedposition? Would not her marriage fill her mother's life withhappiness? Would it be an exhibition of filial duty were she todisappoint them? And yet, what right had they to make a decision forher when her own life's happiness was concerned? Was she not her own?Had she not a right to do as she pleased? Ought she to sacrificeherself to their selfish interests? She did not like to think it waswholly selfishness on their part, but rather an earnest desire toprovide for her future welfare. Ought she not to abide their judgmentas to what was best for her? Could she ever be happy with LordUpperton? Could she find pleasure in fine dressing, card playing, andmasquerading as he had described them? What would such a life beworth? Were position in society, pleasure, gratification of self, tobe the end and aim of life? There seemed to be another somebody besideherself propounding the questions; as if an unseen visitor werestanding by her bedside in the silent night. Was she awake ordreaming? She had heard the great lawyer, James Otis, put questions toa witness in a court where her father in his judicial robe sat asmagistrate. It seemed as if she herself had been summoned to atribunal, and one more searching than the great lawyer was puttingquestions which she must answer. Should she give her hand to LordUpperton and keep back her heart? Ought she to allow prospectivepleasure or position to influence her choice? Could she in any waybarter her future welfare for the present life and for the larger lifebeyond? Was Lord Upperton of such lofty character that she couldrender him honor and respect, even if she could not give to him aloving heart?

  In the half-dreaming hour another face looked down upon her--the faceof him, who, in a time of agony, had been as an angel of God, rescuingher from the hands of ruffians. Oh, if it were he who solicitedpermission to pay his addresses, how would she lean her head upon hisbosom and rest contentedly clasped forever by those strong and lovingarms! Through the intervening months his face had been ever present.She lived again the hour of their first meeting, that of the afternoontea-party, the launching of the Berinthia Brandon, the ride in thepung. She had received several letters from him, which were laidcarefully away in her writing-desk. Many times had they been read andwith increasing pleasure. He had not declared his undying love forher; the declaration was unwritten, but it was between the lines. Hewanted to be more than he was, and she could help him. He wanted to dosomething for justice, truth, and liberty; to stand resolutely withthose who were ready to make sacrifices for their fellow-men. What asentence was this: "I want to be better than I am; I want to dosomething to make the world better than it is; and you are pointingthe way."

  Ever as she read the words her eyes had filled with tears. Shepointing the way! Those words in one end of the scale, and HalfordCastle and everything connected with it in the other, and the writingtipped the beam.

  The night was sultry; her pulses bounding; her brow hot with fever.She sat by the window to breathe the pure air. The stars were shiningin their ethereal brightness; the dipper was wheeling around the polarstar; the great white river, the milky way, was illumining the arch ofheaven. She thought of Him who created the gleaming worlds. Beneathher window the fireflies were lighting their lamps, and living theirlittle lives. She could hear the swallows crooning in their nestsbeneath the eaves.

  "He made them; He cares for them; He will care for me," she said toherself. The night air cooled her brow, a holy peace and calm came toher troubled heart. Kneeling, she repeated as her prayer the psalmwhich the rector had read on Sunday.

  "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my
refuge, and my strength. My God, in Him will I trust."

  In white garments, without adornment, Ruth Newville courtesied to LordUpperton the following evening as he entered the parlor. Never beforehad she seemed to him, or to her father and mother, so beautiful, sosweet, and pure.

  "Miss Newville," he said, "I take it for granted that you have beenduly informed of the purpose of my visit this evening."

  "I have, my lord."

  "I come to offer you my hand and heart. I have been charmed by yourqualities of character and your beauty, and I fain would make youmistress of Halford Castle. I am soon to return to England, and Idesire to take you with me as my bride. I have received the graciouspermission of your honored parents to begin my suit, and I fondly hopethat I may receive an affirmative answer from your lips."

  "My lord, I am not insensible of the honor you confer upon me, but Iam not worthy of it. I am an obscure girl. I am not fitted to fill theexalted station in which you desire to place me."

  "Pardon me, Miss Newville, I have met many a fair maiden, but none socharming as the flower which I desire to transplant from the Coloniesto old England. My best judgment has selected you from them all."

  "My lord, I appreciate your kind words, and what you would giveme--your honor, respect, and love, and an exalted social position. Ihave heard from your lips somewhat concerning the life you wouldexpect me to lead,--the society in which you would have me move. Itrust you will pardon my frankness, but it does not attract me."

  "I can quite understand you, dear Miss Newville; it is natural thatyou should shrink from such a change, but I am sure you would adornthe position."

  "More than what I have said, my lord, I do not think I should be happyin such a position."

  "Oh, I think you would. Certainly, it would be my desire to placebefore you every advantage that could contribute to your welfare andhappiness. The nobility of the realm would follow in your train. Youwould captivate them with your grace and beauty. No party, rout, orball would be complete without you. I am sure that her most graciousmajesty the queen would desire your presence at court to grace herreceptions."

  "You flatter me, my lord, but I do not think that fine dressing, theadornment of pearls and diamonds, promenading, dancing, card playing,and masquerading would give me the highest happiness. I think thatlife has a nobler meaning. I should despise myself if I made them theend and aim of my existence."

  Lord Upperton could not quite comprehend her. He was aware thatacross the sea many a mamma was laying her plans to make her daughtermistress of Halford, and the daughters had looked at him withlanguishing eyes, but here was a girl, guileless and pure, who wasputting aside the great boon he would gladly bestow upon her. He mustset before her the greatness of the gift. He described his estate--itsparks, meadows, groves of oak, the herds of deer, flocks of pheasants;the rooms of the castle, the baronial hall, with antlers nailed uponthe beams and rafters, banners that had been carried by ancestors atCrecy and Agincourt. He pictured life in London, scenes in Parliament,the queen's drawing-rooms, the pageantry and etiquette at St. James's.Miss Newville heard him in silence.

  "Whatever there is to be had, whatever will contribute to yourhappiness, I shall lay at your feet, dear Miss Newville."

  What should she say to him? How inform him that all the pageantry ofKing George's court, all the wealth inherited from his ancestors, wasof little account in her esteem when set against eternal verities, andone of those verities was fidelity to the conviction that she must betrue to herself.

  "My lord," she said, "you may think me unappreciative; you may regardme as strange, but I must be true to myself. I cannot do violence tomy better nature. I cannot barter my convictions. I could honor andrespect you, but something more would be your due; that I could notgive you. I could not make you happy, and I should forever despisemyself."

  It was spoken clearly, distinctly, but with a tremor of voice and aflush upon her cheek that heightened her beauty. Lord Upperton sat insilence, pondering her words. It was dawning upon him that a girl ofthe Colonies had rejected his suit. He had come to her with hiscastle, his ancestry, his title, his position as a peer of the realm,but she had put them all aside. Not with them could he win his suit.Instead of accepting what he had to give, she stood calm, serene,beautiful, radiant, and pure, upon a height so far above him that henever could stand by her side. The silence was embarrassing.

  "Miss Newville," he said, rising and standing before her, "your answeris painful to me. I had anticipated the winning of your hand andheart. It had not occurred to me that I should fail. I appreciate whatyou have said. A loftier ideal of the nobleness of true womanhood hascome to me. My honor, respect, and love for you are deeper than ever,but I see that what I desired cannot be. I bid you farewell."

  She courtesied to his bow, and extended her hand. He touched it to hislips, and passed from the room.

  Her head was pressing her pillow once more. The bell struck themidnight hour. Once more she heard the watchman's voice.

  "Twelve o'clock, and all is well."

  "Yes, all is well," she said,--and her sleep for the night was calmand peaceful.