Davenport Dunn, a Man of Our Day. Volume 2. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ the labor of his long ambition was all but completed, and he saw the goal reached that he had striven for years to attain.

      Nor were they less pleased with each other. Never had Lizzy seemed to Beecher’s eyes more fascinating than now. In all the blaze of full dress she never looked more beautiful than in that simple muslin, with the sky-blue ribbon in her glossy hair, and the boquet of moss roses coquettishly placed above her ear, for – I mention it out of accuracy – she wore her hair drawn back, as was the mode about a century ago, and was somewhat ingenious in her imitation of that mock-shepherdess coiffure so popular with fine ladies of that time. She would have ventured on a “patch” if it were not out of fear for her father; not, indeed, that the delicate fairness of her skin, or the dazzling brilliancy of her eyes, needed the slightest aid from art. Was it with some eye to keeping a toilette that she wore a profusion of rings, many of great price and beauty? I know not her secret; if I did, I should assuredly tell it, for I suspect none of her coquetries were without their significance. To complete Beecher’s satisfaction, Davis was in a mood of good humor, such as he had never seen before.

      Not a word of contradiction, not one syllable of disparagement fell from his lips, that Beecher usually watched with an utmost childish terror, dreading reproof at every moment, and not being over certain when his opinions would pass without a censure. Instead of this, Grog was conciliating even to gentleness, constantly referred to Beecher what he thought of this or that, and even deferred to his better judgment on points whereon he might have been supposed to be more conversant. Much valued reader, has it ever been your fortune in life to have had your opinions on law blandly approved of by an ex-Chancellor, your notions of medicine courteously confirmed by a great physician, or your naval tactics endorsed by an admiral of the fleet? If so, you can fully appreciate the ecstasy of Annesley Beecher as he found all his experiences of the sporting world corroborated by the “Court above.” This was the gold medal he had set his heart on for years, – this the great prize of all his life; and now he had won it, and he was really a “sharp fellow.” There is an intense delight in the thought of having realized a dream of ambition, of which, while our own hearts gave us the assurance of success, the world at large only scoffed at our attempting. To be able to say, “Yes, here I am, despite all your forebodings and all your predictions, – I knew it was ‘in me’!” is a very proud thing, and such a moment of vaingloriousness is pardonable enough.

      How enjoyable at such a moment of triumph was it to hear Lizzy sing and play, making that miserable old piano discourse in a guise it had never dreamed of! She was in one of those moods wherein she blended the wildest flights of fancy with dashes of quaint humor, now breathing forth a melody of Spohr’s in accents of thrilling pathos, now hitting off in improvised doggerel a description of Aix and its company, with mimicries of their voice and manner irresistibly droll. In these imitations the Count, and even Beecher himself, figured, till Grog, fairly worn out with laughter, had to entreat her to desist.

      As for Beecher, he was a good-tempered fellow, and the little raillery at himself took nothing from the pleasure of the description, and he laughed in ready acknowledgment of many a little trait of his own manner that he never suspected could have been detected by another.

      “Ain’t she wonderful, – ain’t she wonderful?” exclaimed Grog, as she strolled out into the garden, and left them alone together.

      “What I can’t make out is, she has no blank days,” said Beecher. “She was just as you saw her there, the whole time we were at Aix; and while she’s rattling away at the piano, and going on with all manner of fun, just ask her a serious question, – I don’t care about what, – and she’ll answer you as if she had been thinking of nothing else for the whole day before.”

      “Had she been born in your rank of life, Beecher, where would she be be now, – tell me that?” said Davis; and there was an almost fierce energy in the words as he spoke them.

      “I can tell you one thing,” cried Beecher, in a transport of delight, – “there’s no rank too high for her this minute.”

      “Well said, boy, – well said,” exclaimed Davis, warmly; “and here’s to her health.”

      “That generous toast and cheer must have been in honor of myself,” said Lizzy, peeping in at the window, “and in acknowledgment I beg to invite you both to tea.”

      CHAPTER IX. A SAUNTER BY MOONLIGHT

      Lizzy Davis had retired to her room somewhat weary after the day’s journey, not altogether unexcited by her meeting with her father. How was it that there was a gentleness, almost a tenderness, in his manner she had never known before? The short, stern address, the abrupt question, the stare piercing and defiant of one who seemed ever to distrust what he heard, were all replaced by a tone of quiet and easy confidence, and a look that bespoke perfect trustfulness.

      “Have I only seen him hitherto in moments of trial and excitement; are these the real traits of his nature; is it the hard conflict of life calls forth the sterner features of his character; and might he, in happier circumstances, be ever kind and confiding, as I see him now?” What a thrill of ecstasy did the thought impart! What a realization of the home she had often dreamed of! “He mistakes me, too,” said she, aloud, “if he fancies that my heart is set upon some high ambition. A life of quiet obscurity, in some spot peaceful and unknown as this, would suffice for all my wishes. I want no triumphs, – I covet no rivalries.” A glance at herself in the glass at this moment sent the deep color to her cheek, and she blushed deeply. Was it that those bright, flashing eyes, that fair and haughty brow, and those lips tremulous with proud significance gave a denial to these words? Indeed, it seemed as much, for she quickly added, “Not that I would fly the field, or ingloriously escape the struggle – Who’s there?” cried she, quickly, as a low tap came to the door.

      “It is I, Lizzy. I heard you still moving about, and I thought I ‘d propose half an hour’s stroll in the moonlight before bed. What do you say to it?”

      “I should like it of all things, papa,” cried she, opening the door at once.

      “Throw a shawl across your shoulders, child,” said he; “the air is not always free from moisture. We ‘ll go along by the river-side.”

      A bright moon in a sky without a cloud lit up the landscape, and by the strongly marked contrast of light and shadow imparted a most striking effect to a scene wild, broken, and irregular. Fantastically shaped rocks broke the current of the stream; at every moment gnarled and twisted roots straggled along the shelving banks, and in the uncertain light assumed goblin shapes and forms, the plashing stream, as it rushed by, appearing to give motion to the objects around. Nor was the semblance all unreal, for here and there a pliant branch rose and fell on the surging water like the arm of some drowning swimmer.

      The father and daughter walked along for some time in utter silence, and the thoughts of each filled with the scene before them. Lizzy fancied it was a conflict of river gods, – some great Titanic war, where angry giants were the combatants; or again, as fairer forms succeeded, they seemed a group of nymphs bathing in the soft moonlight. As for Grog, it reminded him of a row at Ascot, where the swell-mob smashed the police; and so strikingly did it call up the memory of the event that he laughed aloud and heartily.

      “Do tell me what you are laughing at, papa,” said she, entreatingly.

      “It was something that I saw long ago, – something I was reminded of by those trees yonder, bobbing up and down with the current.”

      “But what was it?” asked she, more eagerly; for even yet the memory kept him laughing.

      “Nothing that could interest you, girl,” said he, bluntly; and then, as if ashamed of the rudeness of his speech, he added, “Though I have seen a good deal of life, Lizzy, СКАЧАТЬ