Barrington. Volume 2. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ we ‘d better not be late for tea,” broke in the Major, “or we ‘ll hear of it from Miss Dinah!” And there was something so comic in the seriousness of his tone, that they laughed heartily as they turned towards the house.

      CHAPTER IV. A MOVE IN ADVANCE

      How pleasantly did the next day break on the “Home”! Polly Dill arrived in the best of possible spirits. A few lines from Tom had just reached them. They were written at sea; but the poor fellow’s notions of latitude and longitude were so confused that it was not easy to say from whence. They were cheery, however, he was in good health, his comrades were kind-hearted creatures, and evidently recognized in him one of a station above their own. He said that he could have been appointed hospital sergeant-if he liked, but that whatever reminded him of his old calling was so distasteful that he preferred remaining as he was, the rather as he was given to believe he should soon be a corporal.

      “Not that I mean to stop there, Polly; and now that I have n’t got to study for it, I feel a courage as to the future I never knew before. Give my love to Mr. Conyers, and say that I ‘m never tired of thinking over the last night I saw him, and of all his good nature to me, and that I hope I ‘ll see his father some day or other to thank him. I suppose father does n’t miss me? I ‘m sure mother does n’t; and it ‘s only yourself, Polly, will ever feel a heavy heart for the poor castaway! But cheer up! for as sure as my name is Tom, I ‘ll not bring discredit on you, and you ‘ll not be ashamed to take my arm down the main street when we meet. I must close now, for the boat is going.

      “P. S. I dreamed last night you rode Sid Davis’s brown mare over the Millrace at Graigue. Would n’t it be strange if it came true? I wish I could know it.”

      “May I show this to my friend here, Polly?” said Barrington, pointing to Withering. “It’s a letter he ‘d like to read; and as she nodded assent, he handed it across the breakfast-table.

      “What is your brother’s regiment, Miss Dill?” said Stapylton, who had just caught a stray word or two of what passed.

      “The Forty-ninth.”

      “The Forty-ninth,” said he, repeating the words once or twice. “Let me see, – don’t I know some Forty-ninth men? To be sure I do. There’s Rep ton and Hare. Your brother will be delighted with Hare.”

      “My brother is in the ranks, Major Stapylton,” said she, flushing a deep scarlet; and Barrington quickly interposed, —

      “It was the wild frolic of a young man to escape a profession he had no mind for.”

      “But in foreign armies every one does it,” broke in Stapylton, hurriedly. “No matter what a man’s rank may be, he must carry the musket; and I own I like the practice, – if for nothing else for that fine spirit of camaraderie which it engenders.”

      Fifine’s eyes sparkled with pleasure at what she deemed the well-bred readiness of this speech, while Polly became deadly pale, and seemed with difficulty to repress the repartee that rose to her mind. Not so Miss Dinah, who promptly said, “No foreign customs can palliate a breach of our habits. We are English, and we don’t desire to be Frenchmen or Germans.”

      “Might we not occasionally borrow from our neighbors with advantage?” asked Stapylton, blandly.

      “I agree with Miss Barrington,” said Withering, – “I agree with Miss Barrington, whose very prejudices are always right. An army formed by a conscription which exempts no man is on a totally different footing from one derived from voluntary enlistment.”

      “A practice that some say should be reserved for marriage,” said Barrington, whose happy tact it was to relieve a discussion by a ready joke.

      They arose from table soon after, – Polly to accompany Miss Barrington over the garden and the shrubberies, and show all that had been done in their absence, and all that she yet intended to do, if approved of; Withering adjourned to Barrington’s study to pore over parchments; and Stapylton, after vainly seeking to find Josephine in the drawing-room, the flower-garden, or the lawn, betook himself with a book, the first he could find on the table, to the river’s side, and lay down, less to read than to meditate and reflect.

      A breezy morning of a fine day in early autumn, with slow sailing clouds above and a flickering sunlight on the grass below, besides a rippling river, whose banks are glowing with blue and purple heath-bells, – all these and a Waverley novel were not enough to distract Stapylton from the cares that pressed upon his mind; for so it is, look where we may on those whom Fortune would seem to have made her especial favorites, and we shall find some unsatisfied ambition, some craving wish doomed to disappointment, some hope deferred till the heart that held it has ceased to care for its accomplishment. To the world’s eyes, here was a man eminently fortunate: already high up in the service, with health, vigor, and good looks, a reputation established for personal gallantry in the field, and an amount of capacity that had already won for him more than one distinction, and yet all these, great and solid advantages as they are, were not sufficient to give the ease of mind we call happiness.

      He had debts, some of them heavy debts, but these sat lightly on him. He was one of those men creditors never crush, some secret consciousness seeming to whisper that, however ill the world may go with them for a while, in the long run they must triumph; and thus Mr. Hirman Davis, to whom he owed thousands, would have cashed him another bill to-morrow, all on the faith of that future which Stapylton talked about with the careless confidence of a mind assured.

      He had enemies, too, – powerful and determined enemies, – who opposed his advancement for many a year, and were still adverse to him; but, like the creditors, they felt he was not a man to be crushed, and so he and his ill-wishers smiled blandly when they met, exchanged the most cordial greetings, and even imparted little confidences of their several fortunes with all that well-bred duplicity which so simulates friendship.

      He had been crossed, – no, not in love, but in his ambition to marry one greatly above him in station; but her subsequent marriage had been so unfortunate that he felt in part recompensed for the slight she passed upon him; so that, taking it all and all, fate had never been cruel to him without a compensation.

      There are men who feel their whole existence to be a hand-to-hand struggle with the world, who regard the world as an adversary to be worsted, and all whose efforts are devoted to reach that point upon which they can turn round and say, “You see that I have won the game. I was unknown, and I am famous; I was poor, and I am rich; I was passed over and ignored, and now the very highest are proud to recognize me!” Stapylton was one of these. All the egotism of his nature took this form, and it was far more in a spirit against his fellows than in any indulgence of himself he fought and struggled with Fortune. Intrusted by Withering with much of the secret history of Barring-ton’s claim against the India Company, he had learned considerably more through inquiries instituted by himself, and at length arrived at the conclusion that if old Barring-ton could be persuaded to limit his demands within moderate bounds, and not insist upon the details of that personal reparation which he assumed so essential to his son’s honor, a very ample recompense would not be refused him. It was to induce Barrington to take this course Stapylton had consented to come down with Withering, – so, at least, he said, and so Withering believed. Old lawyer that he was, with a hundred instincts of distrust about him, he had conceived a real liking for Stapylton, and a great confidence in his judgment. “We shall have to divide our labors here, Major,” said he, as they travelled along together; “I will leave the ladies to your care. Barrington shall be mine.” A very brief acquaintance with Miss Dinah satisfied Stapylton that she was one to require nice treatment, and what he called “a very light hand.” The two or three little baits he had thrown out took nothing; the stray bits of sentimentality, or chance scraps of high-toned principle СКАЧАТЬ