Sir Brook Fossbrooke, Volume II.. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Oh, did he? Did he indeed speak of me?” cried Trafford, with intense emotion.

      “He not only spoke warmly about his affection for you, but he showed pain and jealousy when he thought that some newer friends had robbed him of you – but perhaps you forget the Cape and all about it.”

      Trafford’s face became crimson, and what answer he might have made to this speech there is no knowing, when Tom cried out, “We are going to have our coffee and cigar on the rocks, Lucy, but you will come with us.”

      “Of course; I have had three long days of my own company, and am quite wearied of it.”

      In the little cleft to which they repaired, a small stream divided the space, leaving only room for two people on the rocks at either side; and after some little jesting as to who was to have the coffee-pot, and who the brandy-flask, Tom and Cave nestled in one corner, while Lucy and Trafford, with more caution as to proximity, seated themselves on the rock opposite.

      “We were talking about the Cape, Major Trafford, I think,” said Lucy, determined to bring him back to the dreaded theme.

      “Were we? I think not; I think we were remembering all the pleasant days beside the Shannon.”

      “If you please, more sugar and no brandy; and now for the Cape.”

      “I ‘ll just hand them the coffee,” said he, rising and crossing over to the others.

      “Won’t she let you smoke, Trafford?” said Tom, seeing the unlighted cigar in the other’s fingers; “come over here, then, and escape the tyranny.”

      “I was just saying,” cried Cave, “I wish our Government would establish a protectorate, as they call it, over these islands, and send us out here to garrison them; I call this downright paradise.”

      “You may smoke, Major Trafford,” said Lucy, as he returned; “I am very tolerant about tobacco.”

      “I don’t care for it – at least not now.”

      “You’d rather tell me about the Cape,” said she, with a sly laugh. “Well, I ‘m all attention.”

      “There’s really nothing to tell,” said he, in confusion. “Your father will have told you already what a routine sort of thing life is, – always meeting the same people, – made ever more uniform by their official stations. It’s always the Governor, and the Chief-Justice, and the Bishop, and the Attorney-General.”

      “But they have wives and daughters?”

      “Yes; but official people’s wives and daughters are always of the same pattern. They are only females of the species.”

      “So that you were terribly bored?”

      “Just so, – terribly bored.”

      “What a boon from heaven it must have been then to have met the Sewells!” said she, with a well-put-on carelessness.

      “Oh, your father mentioned the Sewells, did he?” asked Trafford, eagerly.

      “I should think he did mention them! Why, they were the people he was so jealous of. He said that you were constantly with him till they came, – his companion, in fact, – and that he grieved heavily over your desertion of him.”

      “There was nothing like desertion; besides,” added he, after a moment, “I never suspected he attached any value to my society.”

      “Very modest, certainly; and probably, as the Sewells did attach this value, you gave it where it was fully appreciated.”

      “I wish I had never met them,” muttered Trafford; and though the words were mumbled beneath his breath, she heard them.

      “That sounds very ungratefully,” said she, with a smile, “if but one half of what we hear be true.”

      “What is it you have heard?”

      “I ‘m keeping Major Trafford from his cigar, Tom; he’s too punctilious to smoke in my company, and so I shall leave him to you;” and so saying, she arose, and turned towards the cottage.

      Trafford followed her on the instant, and overtook her at the porch.

      “One word, – only one,” cried he, eagerly. “I see how I have been misrepresented to you. I see what you must think of me; but will you only hear me?”

      “I have no right to hear you,” said she, coldly.

      “Oh, do not say so, Lucy,” cried he, trying to take her hand, but which she quickly withdrew from him. “Do not say that you withdraw from me the only interest that attaches me to life. If you knew how friendless I am, you would not leave me.”

      “He upon whom fortune smiles so pleasantly very seldom wants for any blandishments the world has to give; at least, I have always heard that people are invariably courteous to the prosperous.”

      “And do you talk of me as prosperous?”

      “Why, you are my brother’s type of all that is luckiest in life. Only hear Tom on the subject! Hear him talk of his friend Trafford, and you will hear of one on whom all the good fairies showered their fairest gifts.”

      “The fairies have grown capricious, then. Has Tom told you nothing – I mean since he came back?”

      “No; nothing.”

      “Then let me tell it.”

      In very few words, and with wonderfully little emotion, Trafford told the tale of his altered fortunes. Of course he did not reveal the reasons for which he had been disinherited, but loosely implied that his conduct had displeased his father, and with his mother he had never been a favorite. “Mine,” said he, “is the vulgar story that almost every family has its instance of, – the younger son, who goes into the world with the pretensions of a good house, and forgets that he himself is as poor as the neediest man in the regiment. They grew weary of my extravagance, and, indeed, they began to get weary of myself, and I am not surprised at it! and the end has come at last. They have cast me off, and, except my commission, I have now nothing in the world. I told Tom all this, and his generous reply was, ‘Your poverty only draws you nearer to us.’ Yes, Lucy, these were his words. Do you think that his sister could have spoken them?”

      “‘Before she could do so, she certainly should be satisfied on other grounds than those that touch your fortune,” said Lucy, gravely.

      “And it was to give her that same satisfaction I came here,” cried he, eagerly. “I accepted Tom’s invitation on the sole pledge that I could vindicate myself to you. I know what is laid to my charge, and I know too how hard it will be to clear myself without appearing like a coxcomb.” He grew crimson as he said this, and the shame that overwhelmed him was a better advocate than all his words. “But,” added he, “you shall think me vain, conceited, – a puppy, if you will, – but you shall not believe me false. Will you listen to me?”

      “On one condition I will,” said she, calmly.

      “Name your condition. What is it?”

      “My condition is this: that when I have heard you out, – heard all that you care to tell me – if it should turn out that I am not satisfied – СКАЧАТЬ