Afloat and Ashore: A Sea Tale

by James Fenimore Cooper

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  "If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough May not extend so far as to the lady." _Merchant of Venice_.

  Next morning, I was early afoot, and I found Grace as much alive to thecharms of home, as I was myself. She put on a gypsy, and accompanied meinto the garden, where to my surprise, I found Lucy. It looked like oldtimes to be in that spot, again, with those two dear girls. Rupert alonewas wanting to complete the picture; but, I had an intimate convictionthat Rupert, as he had been at least, could never come within thesetting of the family group again. I was rejoiced, however, to see Lucy,and more so, just where I found her, and I believe told her as much withmy eyes. The charming girl looked happier than she had appeared the daybefore, or for many previous days indeed, and I felt less apprehensionthan of late, concerning her having met with any agreeable youth of amore _genteel_ profession than that of a merchant-captain.

  "I did not expect to find you here, Miss Lucy," cried Grace, "eatinghalf-ripe currants, too, or my eyes deceive me, at this early hour inthe morning. It is not twenty minutes since you were in your own room,quite unadorned."

  "The green fruit of dear Clawbonny is better than the ripe fruit ofthose vile New York markets!" exclaimed Lucy, with a fervour so naturalas to forbid any suspicion of acting. "I should prefer a Clawbonnypotatoe, to a New York peach!"

  Grace smiled, and, as soon as Lucy's animation had a little subsided,_she_ blushed.

  "How much better would it be, Miles," my sister resumed, "could you beinduced to think and feel with us, and quit the seas, to come and livefor the rest of your days on the spot where your fathers have so longlived before you. Would it not, Lucy?"

  "Miles will never do _that_," Lucy answered, with emphasis. "Men arenot like us females who love everything we love at all, with our wholehearts. Men prefer wandering about, and being shipwrecked, and left ondesert islands, to remaining quietly at home, on their own farms. No,no; you'll never persuade Miles to do _that_."

  "I am not astonished my brother thinks desert islands such pleasantabodes, when he can find companions like Miss Merton on them."

  "You will remember, sister of mine, in the first place, that Marble Landis very far from being a desert island at all; and, in the next, that Ifirst found Miss Merton in Hyde Park, London; almost in the canal, forthat matter."

  "I think it a little odd that Miles never told us all about this, in hisletters, at the time, Lucy. When young gentlemen drag young ladies outof canals, their friends at home have a right to know something of thematter."

  How much unnecessary misery is inflicted by unmeaning expressions likethis. Grace spoke lightly, and probably without a second thought aboutthe matter; but the little she said, not only made me thoughtful anduneasy, but it drove everything like a smile from the usually radiantcountenance of her friend. The conversation dragged; and soon after, wereturned together to the house.

  I was much occupied that morning, in riding about the place with Mr.Hardinge, and in listening to his account of his stewardship, Withthe main results I was already acquainted--nay, possessed them in theDawn,--but the details had all to be gone over, with the most minuteaccuracy. A more simple-minded being there was not on earth than Mr.Hardinge; and, that my affairs turned out so well was the result of theprosperous condition of the country at that day, the system my fatherhad adopted in his life-time, and the good qualities of the differentagents he had chosen, every one of whom remained in the situation inwhich he was at the sad moment of the fatal accident at the mill. Hadmatters really depended on the knowledge and management of the mostexcellent divine, they would soon have been at sixes and sevens.

  "I am no believer in miracles, my dear Miles," observed my guardian,with amusing self-complacency; "but I do think a change has been wroughtin me, to meet the emergencies of a situation, in which the interests oftwo orphans have been so suddenly intrusted to my guidance and care. Godbe thanked! everything prospers; your affairs, as well as those ofmy dear Grace. It is wonderful, boy, how a man of my habits has beendirected in his purchases of wheat, for instance; I, who never boughta bushel until the whole responsibility of your mills fell upon myshoulders I take no credit to myself for it--no credit to myself!"

  "I hope the miller has not been backward, my dear sir, in giving you allthe assistance in his power."

  "Morgan?--yes; he is always ready, and you know I never forget to sendhim into the market to both buy and sell. Really, his advice has beenso excellent, that to me it has the appearance of being almostmiraculous--prophetic, I should say, were it not improper. We shouldavoid all exaggeration in our gratitude, boy."

  "Very truly, sir. And in what manner have you managed to get along sowell with the crops, on the place, itself?"

  "Favoured by the same great adviser, Miles. It is really wonderful,the crops we have had; and the judgment that has been so providentiallyshown in the management of the fields, as well as of the mills!"

  "Of course, sir, old Hiram (Neb's uncle) has always been ready to giveyou his aid?--Hiram has a great deal of judgment, in his way."

  "No doubt--no doubt--Hiram and I have done it all, led by a Providentialcounsel. Well, my boy, you ought to be satisfied with your earthly lot;for every thing seems to prosper that belongs to you. Of course, youwill marry, one of these days, and transmit this place to your son, asit has been received from your fathers?"

  "I keep that hope in perspective, sir; or, as we sailors say, for asheet-anchor."

  "Your hope of salvation, boy, is your sheet-anchor, I trust.Nevertheless, we are not to be too hard on young men, and must let themhave a little romance in their compositions. Yes, yes; I trust you willnot become so much wedded to your ship, as not to think of taking awife, one of these days. It will be a happy hour to me, when I can seeanother Mrs. Miles Wallingford at Clawbonny. She will be the third; forI can remember your grandmother."

  "Can you recommend to me a proper person to fill that honourablestation, sir?" said I, smiling to myself, and exceedingly curious tohear the answer.

  "What do you think of this Miss Merton, boy? She is handsome, and thatpleases young men; clever, and that pleases old ones; well-educated,and that will last, when the beauty is gone; and, so far as I can judge,amiable; and that is as necessary to a wife, as fidelity. _Marry nowoman, Miles, that is not amiable!_"

  "May I ask _what_ you call amiable, sir?--And, when that question isanswered, I may venture to go so far as to inquire _whom_ you callamiable?"

  "Very sensible distinctions, and such as are entitled to fair answers;at least the first. I do not call levity, amiability; nor mereconstitutional gaiety. Some of the seemingly most light-hearted womenI have ever known, have been anything but amiable. There must be anunusual absence of selfishness,--a person must live less for herself,than others--or rather, must find her own happiness in the happiness ofthose she loves, to make a truly amiable woman. Heart and principleare at the bottom of what is truly amiable; though temperament anddisposition undoubtedly contribute. As for the whom, your own sisterGrace is a truly amiable young woman. I never knew her do anything tohurt another's feelings in my life."

  "I suppose you will admit, sir, I cannot very well marry Grace?"

  "I wish you could, with all my heart--yes, with all my heart! Were notyou and Grace brother and sister, I should consider myself well quit ofthe responsibility of my guardianship, in seeing you man and wife."

  "As that is out of the question, I am not without hopes you can mentionanother who will do just as well, so far as I am concerned."

  "Well, there is this Miss Merton--though I do not know her well enoughto venture absolutely on a recommendation. Now, I told Lucy, no laterthan yesterday, while we were on the river, and as you were pointing outto Miss Merton the forts in the Highlands, that I thought you wouldmake one of the handsomest couples in the state--and, moreover, I toldher--bless me, how this corn grows! The plants will be in tassel ina few days, and the crop must turn out most beneficent--truly,tru
ly--there is a providence in all things; for, at first, I was forputting the corn on yonder hill-side, and the potatoes here; but oldHiram was led by some invisible agency to insist on this field for thecorn, and the hill-side for the potatoes--and, now, look, and see whatcrops are in promise! Think of a nigger's blundering on such a thing?"

  In 1802, even well-educated and well-intentioned clergymen had noscruples in saying "nigger."

  "But, sir, you have quite forgotten to add what else you told Lucy?"

  "True--true--it is very natural that you should prefer hearing me talkabout Miss Merton, to hearing me talk about potatoes--I'll tell _that_to Lucy, too, you may depend on it."

  "I sincerely hope you will do no such thing, my dear sir," I cried, inno little alarm.

  "Ah! that betrays guilt--consciousness, I should say; for what guilt canthere be in a virtuous love?--and rely on it, both the girls shall knowall about it. Lucy and I often talk over your matters, Miles; for sheloves you as well as your own sister. Ah! my fine fellow, you blush atit, like a girl of sixteen! But, there is nothing to be ashamed of, andthere is no occasion for blushes."

  "Well, sir, letting my blushes--the blushes of a shipmaster!--butsetting aside my blushes, for mercy's sake _what more_ did you tellLucy?"

  "What more? Why I told her how you had been on a desert island, quitealone as one might say, with Miss Merton, and how you had been at sea,living in the same cabin as it were, for nine months; and it would bewonderful--wonderful, indeed, if two so handsome young personsshould not feel an attachment for each other. Country might make somedifference, to be sure--"

  "And station, sir?--What do you think would be the influence of thedifference of station, also?"

  "Station!--Bless me, Miles; what difference in station is there betweenyou and Miss Merton; that it should cause any obstacle to your union?"

  "You know what it is, sir, as well as I do myself. She is the daughterof an officer in the British army, and I am the master of a ship. Youwill admit, I presume, Mr. Hardinge, that there is such, a thing as adifference in station?"

  "Beyond all question. It is exceedingly useful to remember it; andI greatly fear the loose appointments of magistrates and otherfunctionaries, that are making round the country, will bring all ournotions on such subjects into great confusion. I can understand that oneman is as good as another in _rights_, Miles; but I cannot understandhe is any _better_, because he happens to be uneducated, ignorant, or ablackguard."

  Mr. Hardinge was a sensible man in all such distinctions, though sosimple in connection with other matters.

  "You can have no difficulty, however, in understanding that, in NewYork, for instance, I should not be considered the equal of MajorMerton--I mean socially, altogether, and not in personal merit, or theclaims which years give--and of course, not the equal of his daughter?"

  "Why--yes--I know what you mean, now. There may be some littleinequality in that sense, perhaps; but Clawbonny, and the ship, and themoney at use, would be very apt to strike a balance."

  "I am afraid not, sir. I should have studied law, sir, had I wished tomake myself a gentleman."

  "There are lots of vulgar fellows getting into the law, Miles--men whohave not half your claims to be considered gentlemen. I hope you do notthink I wished you and Rupert to study law in order to make gentlemen ofyou?"

  "No, sir; it was unnecessary to take that step as regards Rupert, whowas fully born in the station. Clergymen have a decided position allover the world, I believe; and then you are extremely well connectedotherwise, Mr. Hardinge. Rupert has no occasion for such anassistance--with me it was a little different."

  "Miles--Miles--this is a strange fancy to come over a young man in yoursituation--and who, I am afraid, has been the subject of envy, only toooften, to Rupert!"

  "If the truth were known, Mr. Hardinge, I dare say both Rupert and Lucy,in their secret hearts, think they possess advantages, in the way ofsocial station, that do not belong to Grace and myself."

  Mr. Hardinge looked hurt, and I was soon sorry that I had made thisspeech. Nor would I have the reader imagine that what I had said,proceeded in the least from that narrow selfish feeling, which, underthe blustering pretension of equality, presumes to deny the existenceof a very potent social fact; but simply from the sensitiveness offeelings, which, on this subject, were somewhat in danger of becomingmorbid, through the agency of the most powerful passion of thehuman heart--or, that which has well been called the master-passion.Nevertheless, Mr. Hardinge was much too honest a man to deny a truth,and much too sincere to wish even to prevaricate about it, howeverunpleasant it might be to acknowledge it, in all its unpleasantbearings.

  "I now understand you, Miles; and it would be idle to pretend thatthere is not some justice in what you say, though I attach very littleimportance to it, myself. Rupert is not exactly what I could wish him tobe in all things, and possibly _he_ may be coxcomb enough, at times,to fancy he has this slight advantage over you,--but, as for Lucy, I'llengage she never thinks of you but as a second brother--and that sheloves you exactly as she loves Rupert."

  Mr. Hardinge's simplicity was of proof, and it was idle to think ofmaking any impression on it. I changed the subject, therefore, and thiswas easily enough done, by beginning again to talk about the potatoes. Iwas far from being easy, nevertheless; for I could not avoid seeing thatthe good divine's restlessness might readily widen the little breachwhich had opened between his daughter and myself.

  That day, at dinner, I discovered that Grace's winter in town had ledto a sensible melioration of the domestic economy; most especially asrelated to the table. My father and mother had introduced some changes,which rendered the Clawbonny household affairs a little different fromthose of most other of the Ulster county families near our own class;but their innovations, or improvements, or whatever they might becalled, were far from being as decided as those introduced by theirdaughter. Nothing, perhaps, sooner denotes the condition of people, thanthe habits connected with the table. If eating and drinking be not donein a certain way, and a way founded in reason, too, as indeed are nearlyall the customs of polished life, whatever may be the cant of the ultrasof reason--but, if eating and drinking be not done in a certain way,your people of the world perceive it sooner than almost anything else.There is, also, more of common sense and innate fitness, in the usagesof the table, so long as they are not dependent on mere caprice, thanin almost any other part of our deportment; for everybody must eat, andmost persons choose to eat decently. I had been a little nervous on thesubject of the Mertons, in connection with the Clawbonny table, I willconfess; and great was my delight when I found the breakfast going offso well. As for the Major, himself by no means familiar with the higherclasses of his own country, he had that great stamp of a gentleman,simplicity; and he was altogether above the cockney distinctions ofeating and drinking; those about cheese and malt liquors, and suchvulgar niceties; nor was he a man to care about the silver-forkisms; buthe understood that portion of the finesse of the table which dependedon reason and taste, and was accustomed to observe it. This I knew fromnear a twelve month's intercourse, and I had feared we might turn out tobe a little too rustic.

  Grace had made provisions against all this, with a tact and judgment forwhich I could have worshipped her. I knew the viands, the vegetables,and the wines would all be good of their kind, for in these we seldomfailed; nor did I distrust the cookery, the _English_-descended familiesof the Middle States, of my class, understanding that to perfection;but I feared we should fail in those little incidents of styleand arrangement, and in the order of the service, that denote awell-regulated table. This is just what Grace had seen to; and I foundthat a great revolution had been quietly effected in this branch of ourdomestic economy during my absence; thanks to Grace's observations whileat Mrs. Bradfort's.

  Emily seemed pleased at dinner, and Lucy could again laugh and smile.After the cloth was removed, the Major and Mr. Hardinge discussed abottle of Madeira, and that too of a quality of which I had no reason
tobe ashamed; while we young people withdrew together to a little piazza,that was in the shade at that hour, and took seats, for a chat. Rupertwas permitted to smoke, on condition that he would not approachwithin fifteen feet of the party. No sooner was this little group thusarranged, the three girls in a crescent, than I disappeared.

  "Grace, I have not yet spoken to you of a necklace of pearls possessedby your humble servant," I cried, as my foot again touched thepiazza.--"I would not say a word about it--"

  "Yet, Lucy and I heard all about it--" answered Grace with provokingcalmness, "but would not ask to see it, lest you should accuse us ofgirlish curiosity. We waited your high pleasure, in the matter."

  "You and Lucy heard I had such a necklace!"

  "Most unquestionably; I, Grace Wallingford, and she, Lucy Hardinge. Ihope it is no infringement on the rights of Mr. Miles Clawbonny"--sothe girls often called me, when they affected to think I was on myhigh-ropes--"I hope it is no infringement on the rights of Mr. MilesClawbonny to say as much."

  "And pray how _could_ you and Lucy know anything about it?"

  "That is altogether another question; perhaps we may accord an answer,after we have seen the necklace."

  "Miss Merton told us, Miles," said Lucy, looking at me with gentleness,for she saw I really wished an answer; and what could Lucy Hardinge everrefuse me, that was right in itself when she saw my feelings were reallyinterested?

  "Miss Merton? Then I have been betrayed, and the surprise I anticipatedis lost."

  I was vexed, and my manner must have shown it in a slight degree. Emilycoloured, bit her lip, and said nothing; but Grace made her excuses withmore spirit than it was usual for _her_ to show.

  "You are rightly punished, Master Miles," she cried; "for you had nobusiness to anticipate surprises. They are vulgar things at best, andthey are worse than that when they come from a distance of fifteenthousand miles--from a brother to a sister. Besides, you have surprisedus sufficiently once, already, in connection with Miss Merton."

  "I!" I exclaimed.

  "Me!" added Emily.

  "Yes, I and me; did you tell us one word about her, in your letters?and have you not now both surprised and delighted us, by making usacquainted with so charming a person? I can pardon such a surprise, onaccount of its consequences; but nothing so vulgar as a surprise aboutpearls."

  Emily blushed now; and in her it was possible to tell the differencebetween a blush and the suffusion that arose from a different feeling;but she looked immensely superior to anything like explanations.

  "Captain Wallingford"--how I disliked that _Captain_--"CaptainWallingford can have but little knowledge of young ladies," she said,coldly, "if he supposes such pearls as he possesses would not form thesubject of their conversation."

  I was coxcomb enough to fancy Emily was vexed that I had neglected to bemore particular about her being on the island, and her connection withthe ship. This might have been a mistake; however.

  "Let us see the pearls, Miles; and that will plead your apology," saidLucy.

  "There, then--your charming eyes, young ladies, never looked on pearlslike those, before."

  Female nature could not suppress the exclamations of belight thatsucceeded. Even Rupert, who had a besetting weakness on the subjectof all personal ornaments, laid aside his segar, and came within theprescribed distance, the better to admire. It was admitted all round,New York had nothing to compare with them. I then mentioned that theyhad been fished up by myself from the depths of the sea.

  "How much that adds to their value!" said Lucy, in a low voice, but inher warm, sincere manner.

  "That was getting them _cheap_, was it not, Miss Wallingford?" inquiredEmily, with an emphasis I disliked.

  "Very; though I agree with Lucy, it makes them so much the morevaluable."

  "If Miss Merton will forget my charge of treason, and condescend to puton the necklace, you will all see it to much greater advantage than atpresent. If a fine necklace embellishes a fine woman, the advantage isquite reciprocal. I have seen my pearls once already on her neck, andknow the effect."

  A wish of Grace's aided my application, and Emily placed the ornamentsaround her throat. The dazzling whiteness of her skin gave a lustre tothe pearls that they certainly did not previously possess. One scarcelyknew which to admire the most--the ornaments, or their setting.

  "How very, very beautiful they are _now!_" cried Lucy, in generousadmiration. "Oh! Miss Merton, pearls should ever be your ornaments."

  "_Those_ pearls, you mean, Lucy," put in Rupert, who was alwaysextremely liberal with other people's means; "the necklace ought neverto be removed."

  "Miss Merton knows their destination," I said, gallantly, "and the termsof ownership."

  Emily slowly undid the clasp, placed the string before her eyes, andlooked at it long and silently.

  "And what is this destination, Miles? What these terms of ownership?" mysister asked.

  "Of course he means them for you, dear," Lucy remarked in haste. "Forwhom else can he intend such an ornament?"

  "You are mistaken, Miss Hardinge. Grace must excuse me for being alittle selfish this time, at least. I do not intend those pearls forMiss Wallingford, but for Mrs. Wallingford, should there ever be such aperson."

  "Upon my word, such a double temptation, my boy, I Wonder Miss Mertonever had the fortitude to remove them from the enviable position theyso lately occupied," cried Rupert, glancing meaningly towards Emily, whoreturned the look with a slight smile.

  "Of course, Miss Merton understood that my remark was ventured inpleasantry," I said stiffly, "and not in presumption. It was decided,however, when in the Pacific, that these pearls ought to have thatdestination. It is true, Clawbonny is not the Pacific, and one may bepardoned for seeing things a little differently _here_, from what theyappeared _there_. I have a few more pearls, however, very inferior inquality I confess, to those of the necklace; but, such as they are, Ishould esteem it a favour, ladies, if you would consent to divide themequally among you. They would make three very pretty rings, and as manybreast-pins."

  I put into Grace's hands a little box containing all the pearls that hadnot been placed on the string. There were many fine ones among them, andsome of very respectable size, though most were of the sort called seed.In the whole, there were several hundreds.

  "We will not balk his generosity," said Grace, smiling--"so, MissMerton, we will separate the pearls into three parcels, and draw lotsfor them. Here are handsome ornaments among them!"

  "They will have one value with you, at least, Grace, and quite likelywith Lucy, while they might possibly possess another with Miss Merton. Ifished up every one of those pearls with my own hands."

  "Certainly, that will give them value with both Lucy and me, dearestMiles, as would the simple fact that they are your gift--but what is togive them their especial value with Miss Merton?"

  "They may serve to remind Miss Merton of some of her hair-breadthescapes, of the weeks passed on the island, and of scenes that, afew years hence, will probably possess the colours of a dream, in herrecollection."

  "_One_ pearl I will take, with this particular object"--said Emily, withmore feeling than I had seen her manifest since she had got back intothe world, "if Miss Wallingford will do me the favour to select it."

  "Let it be enough for a ring, at least," Grace returned, in her ownsweetest manner. "Half a dozen of the finest of these pearls, of whichone shall be on Miles' account, and five on mine."

  "On those conditions, let it then be six. I have no occasion for pearlsto remind me how much my father and my self owe to Captain Wallingford."

  "Come, Rupert," added Grace; "you have a taste in these things, letus have your aid in the selection." Rupert was by no means backward incomplying, for he loved to be meddling in such matters.

  "In the first place," he said, "I shall at once direct that the numberbe increased to seven; this fine one in the centre, and three on eachside, gradually diminishing in size. We must look to quality, and not toweight,
for the six puisne judges, as we should call them in the courts.The Chief Justice will be a noble-looking fellow, and the associatesought to be of good quality to keep his honour's company."

  "Why do you not call your judges 'my lords,' as we do in England, Mr.Hardinge?" inquired Emily, in her prettiest manner.

  "_Why,_ sure enough! I wish with all my heart we did, and then a manwould have something worth living for."

  "Rupert!" exclaimed Lucy, colouring--"you know it is because ourgovernment is republican, and that we have no nobles among us. Nordo you say exactly what you think; you would not be 'my lord,' if youcould."

  "As I never shall be a 'my lord,' and I am afraid never a 'yourhonour'--There, Miss Merton--there are numbers two and three--observehow beautifully they are graduated as to size."

  "Well, 'your honour,'" added Grace, who began to be a little uneasy atthe manner Rupert and Emily exhibited towards each other--"well, 'yourhonour,' what is to come next?"

  "Numbers four and five, of course--and here they are, Miss Merton; asaccurately diminished, as if done by hand. A beautiful ring it willmake--I envy those who will be recalled to mind, by so charming anobject."

  "You will now be one of those yourself, Mr. Hardinge"--observed Emily,with great tact--"for you are fully entitled to it, by the trouble youare giving yourself, and the taste and judgment you possess."

  Lucy looked petrified. She had so long accustomed herself to thinkof Grace as her future sister, that the open admiration expressed inRupert's countenance, which was too manifest to escape any of us, firstthrew a glimmering of light on suspicions of the most painful nature. Ihad long seen that Lucy understood her brother's character better thanany of us--much better, indeed, than his simple-minded father; and,as for myself, I was prepared to expect anything but consistency andprinciple in his conduct. Dearly as I prized Lucy, and by this timethe slight competition that Emily Merton had presented to my fancy,had entirely given way to the dear creature's heart, and nature,--but,dearly as I prized Lucy, I would greatly have preferred that my sistershould not marry her brother; and, so far from feeling resentment onaccount of his want of fidelity, I was rather disposed to rejoice atit. I could appreciate his want of merit, and his unfitness to be thehusband of such a woman as Grace, even at my early age; but, alas! Icould not appreciate the effects of his inconstancy on a heart like thatof my sister. Could I have felt as easy on the subject of Mr. AndrewDrewett, and of my own precise position in society, I should have caredvery little, just then, about Rupert, and his caprices.

  The pearls for the ring were soon selected by Rupert, and approved ofby Grace, after which I assumed the office of dividing the remaindermyself. I drew a chair, took the box from Rupert, and set about thetask.

  "I shall make a faithful umpire, girls," I observed, as pearl afterpearl was laid, first on one spot, then on another--"for I feel nopreference between you--Grace is as Lucy; Lucy is as Grace, with me."

  "That may be fortunate, Miss Hardinge, since it indicates no preferenceof a particular sort, that might require repressing," said Emily,smiling significantly at Lucy. "When gentlemen treat young ladiesas sisters, it is a subject of rejoicing. These sailors need severelessons, to keep them within the rules of the land."

  Why this was said, I did not understand; but Rupert laughed at it, asif it were a capital thing. To mend the matter, he added, a littleboisterously for him--

  "You see, Miles, you had better have taken to the law--the ladies cannotappreciate the merits of you tars."

  "So it would seem," I returned, a little drily, "after all Miss Mertonhas experienced and seen of the trade."

  Emily made no reply, but she regarded her pearls with a steadiness thatshowed she was thinking more of their effect than that of either her ownspeech or mine. I continued to divide the pearls, and soon had the workcomplete.

  "What am I to do, now?"--I asked--"Will you draw lots, girls, or willyou trust to my impartiality?"

  "We will certainly confide in the last," answered Grace. "The divisionis so very equitable that I do not well see how you can defraud either."

  "That being the case, this parcel is for you, Lucy; and, Grace, that isyour's."

  Grace rose, put her arms affectionately around my neck, and gave me oneof the hundred kisses that I had received, first and last, for presentsof one sort and another. The deep attachment that beamed in hersaint-like eyes, would of itself have repaid me for fifty such gifts.At the moment, I was almost on the point of throwing her the necklacein the bargain; but some faint fancies about Mrs. Miles Wallingfordprevented me from so doing. As for Lucy, not a little to my surprise,she received the pearls, muttered a few unintelligible words, but didnot even rise from her chair. Emily seemed to tire of this, so shecaught up her gypsy, said the evening was getting to be delightful, andproposed a walk. Rupert and Grace cheerfully acquiesced, and the threesoon left the place, Lucy preparing to follow, as soon as a maid couldbring her hat, and I excusing myself on the score of business in my ownroom.

  "Miles"--said Lucy, as I was about to enter the house, she herselfstanding on the edge of the piazza on the point of following the party,but holding towards me the little paper box in which I had placed herportion of the pearls.

  "Do you wish me to put them away for you, Lucy?"

  "No, Miles--not for _me_--but for _yourself_--for Grace--for _Mrs. MilesWallingford_, if you prefer that."

  This was said without the slightest appearance of any other feeling thana gentle request. I was surprised, and scarce knew what to make of it;at first, I refused to take the box.

  "I hope I have done nothing to merit this, Lucy?" I said,half-affronted, half-grieved.

  "Remember, Miles," the dear girl answered--"we are no longer children,but have reached an age when it is incumbent on us to respectappearances a little. These pearls must be worth a good deal of money,and I feel certain my father, when he came to think of it, would scarceapprove of my receiving them."

  "And this from _you_, dear Lucy!"

  "This from me, dear Miles," returned the precious girl, tears glisteningin her eyes, though she endeavoured to smile. "Now, take the box, and wewill be just as good friends as ever."

  "Will you answer me one question, as frankly and as honestly as you usedto answer all my questions?"

  Lucy turned pale and she stood reflecting an instant before she spoke.

  "I can answer no question before it is asked," was at length her answer.

  "Have you thought so little of my presents as to have thrown away thelocket I gave you, before I sailed for the North-West coast?"

  "No, Miles; I have kept the locket, and shall keep it as long as I live.It was a memorial of our childish regard for each other; and, in thatsense, is very dear to me. You will let me keep the locket, I am sure!"

  "If it were not you, Lucy Hardinge, whom I know to be truth itself, Imight be disposed to doubt you, so many strange things exist, and somuch caprice, especially in attachments, is manifested here, ashore!"

  "You need doubt nothing I tell you, Miles--on no account would I deceiveyou."

  "That I believe--nay, I see, it is your present object to _undeceive_me. I do not doubt anything you tell me, Lucy. I wish I could see thatlocket, however; show it to me, if you have it on your person."

  Lucy made an eager movement, as if about to produce the locket; then shearrested the impetuous indication, while her cheeks fairly burned withthe blushes that suffused them.

  "I see how it is, Lucy--the thing is not to be found. It is mislaid, theLord knows where, and you do not like to avow it."

  The locket, at that moment, lay as near the blessed creature's heartas it could be placed; and her confusion proceeded from the shame ofletting that fact be known. This I could not see, and consequently didnot know. A very small and further indication of feeling on my part,might have betrayed the circumstance; but pride prevented it, and I tookthe still extended box, I dare say in a somewhat dramatic manner. Lucylooked at me earnestly; I saw it was with difficulty that she kept from
bursting into tears.

  "You are not hurt, Miles?" she said.

  "I should not be frank if I denied it. Even Emily Merton, you saw,consented to accept enough pearls for a ring."

  "I did perceive it; and yet, you remember, she felt the impropriety ofreceiving such large gifts from gentlemen. Miss Merton has gone throughso much, so much in your company, Miles, that no wonder she is willingto retain some little memorial of it all, until--"

  She hesitated; but Lucy chose not to finish the sentence. She had beenpale; but her cheeks were now like the rose, again.

  "When Rupert and I first went to sea, Lucy, you gave me your littletreasure in gold--every farthing you had on earth, I fancy."

  "I am glad I did, Miles; for we were very young, then, and you had beenso kind to me, I rejoice I had a little gratitude. But, we are now insituations," she added, smiling so sweetly, as to render it difficultfor me to refrain from catching her in my arms, and folding her to myheart; "that place both of us above the necessity of receiving aid ofthis sort."

  "I am glad to hear this--though _I_ shall never part with the dearrecollection of the half-joes."

  "Or I with that of the locket. We will retain these, then, as keepsakes.My dear Mrs. Bradfort, too, is very particular about Rupert or myselfreceiving favours of this sort, from any but herself. She has adoptedus, in a manner; and I owe to her liberality, the means of making thefigure I do. Apart from that, Miles, we are all as poor as we have everbeen."

  I wished Rupert had half his sister's self-respect and pride ofcharacter. But he had not; for in spite of his kinswoman's prohibitions,he had not scrupled to spend nearly three years of the wages thataccrued to me as third-mate of the Crisis. For the money I cared not astiver; it was a very different thing as to the feeling.

  As for Lucy, she hastened away, as soon as she had induced me to acceptthe box; and I had no choice but to place all the pearls together, andput them in Grace's room, as my sister had desired me to do with her ownproperty before proceeding on her walk.

  I determined I would converse confidentially with Grace, that veryevening, about the state of affairs in general, and if possible, learnthe worst concerning Mr. Andrew Drewett's pretensions. Shall Ifrankly own the truth? I was sorry that Mrs. Bradfort had made Lucyso independent; as it seemed to increase the chasm that I fancied wasopening between us.