Home as Found by James Fenimore Cooper (easy novels to read .txt) 📖

who had been invited

to make one at the wedding-feast; "what is to become of me, Captain

Truck, if this marrying mania go any further?"

 

"I have long had a plan for your welfare, my dear sir, that I will

take this opportunity to divulge; I propose, ladies and gentlemen,

that we enlist Mr. Howel in our project for this autumn, and that we

carry him with us to Europe. I shall be proud to have the honour of

introducing him to his old friend, the island of Great Britain."

 

"Ah! that is a happiness, I fear, that is not in reserve for me!"

said Mr. Howel, shaking his head. "I have thought of these things, in

my time, but age will now defeat any such hopes."

 

"Age, Tom Howel!" said John Effingham; "you are but fifty, like Ned

and myself. We were all boys together, forty years ago, and yet you

find us, who have so lately returned, ready to take a fresh

departure. Pluck up heart; there may be a steam-boat ready to bring

you back, by the time you wish to return."

 

"Never," said Captain Truck, positively. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is

morally impossible that the Atlantic should ever be navigated by

steamers. That doctrine I shall maintain to my dying day; but what

need of a steamer, when we have packets like palaces?"

 

"I did not know, captain, that you entertained so hearty a respect

for Great Britain--it is encouraging, really, to find so generous a

feeling toward the old island in one of her descendants. Sir George

and Lady Templemore, permit me to drink to your lasting felicity."

 

"Ay--ay--I entertain no ill-will to England, though her tobacco laws

are none of the genteelest. But my wish to export you, Mr. Howel, is

less from a desire to show you England, than to let you perceive that

there are other countries in Europe--"

 

"Other countries!--Surely you do not suppose I am so ignorant of

geography, as to believe that there are no other countries in

Europe--no such places as Hanover, Brunswick, and Brunswick

Lunenberg, and Denmark; the sister of old George the Third married

the king of that country; and Wurtemberg, the king of which married

the Princess Royal--"

 

"And Mecklenburg-Strelitz," added John Effingham, gravely, "a

princess of which actually married George the Third _propria

persona_, as well as by proxy. Nothing can be plainer than your

geography, Howel; but, in addition to these particular regions, our

worthy friend the captain wishes you to know also, that there are

such places as France, and Austria, and Russia, and Italy; though the

latter can scarcely repay a man for the trouble of visiting it."

 

"You have guessed my motive, Mr. John Effingham, and expressed it

much more discreetly than I could possibly have done," cried the

captain. "If Mr. Howel will do me the honour to take passage with me,

going and coming, I shall consider the pleasure of his remarks on men

and things, as one of the greatest advantages I ever possessed."

 

"I do not know but I might be induced to venture as far as England,

but not a foot farther."

 

"_Pas a Paris!_" exclaimed Mademoiselle Viefville, who wondered

why any rational being would take the trouble to cross the Atlantic,

merely to see _Ce melancolique Londres;_ "you will go to _Paris_,

for my sake, Monsieur Howel?"

 

"For your sake, indeed, Mam'selle, I would do any thing, but hardly

for my own. I confess I have thought of this, and I will think of it

farther. I should like to see the King of England and the House of

Lords, I confess, before I die."

 

"Ay, and the Tower, and the Boar's-Head at East-Cheap, and the statue

of the Duke of Wellington, and London Bridge, and Richmond Hill, and

Bow Street, and Somerset House, and Oxford Road, and Bartlemy Fair,

and Hungerford Market, and Charing-Cross--_old_ Charing-Cross,

Tom Howel!"--added John Effingham, with a good-natured nod of the

head.

 

"A wonderful nation!" cried Mr. Howel, whose eyes sparkled as the

other proceeded in his enumeration of wonders. "I do not think, after

all, that I can die in peace, without seeing _some_ of these

things--_all_ would be too much for me. How far is the Isle of

Dogs, now, from St. Catherine's Docks, captain?"

 

"Oh! but a few cables' lengths. If you will only stick to the ship

until she is fairly docked, I will promise you a sight of the Isle of

Dogs before you land, even. But then you must promise me to carry out

no tobacco!"

 

"No fear of me; I neither smoke nor chew, and it does not surprise me

that a nation as polished as the English should have this antipathy

to tobacco. And one might really see the Isle of Dogs before landing?

It _is_ a wonderful country! Mrs. Bloomfield, will you ever be

able to die tranquilly without seeing England?"

 

"I hope, sir, whenever that event shall arrive, that it may be met

tranquilly, let what may happen previously. I do confess, in common

with Mrs. Effingham, a longing desire to see Italy; a wish that I

believe she entertains from her actual knowledge, and which I

entertain from my anticipations."

 

"Now, this really surprises me. What _can_ Italy possess to

repay one for the trouble of travelling so far?"

 

"I trust, cousin Jack," said Eve, colouring at the sound of her own

voice, for on that day of supreme happiness and intense emotions, she

had got to be so sensitive as to be less self-possessed than common,

"that our friend Mr. Wenham will not be forgotten, but that he may be

invited to join the party."

 

This representative of _la jeune Amerique_ was also present at

the dinner, out of regard to his deceased father, who was a very old

friend of Mr. Effingham's, and, being so favourably noticed by the

bride, he did not fail to reply.

 

"I believe an American has little to learn from any nation but his

own," observed Mr. Wenham, with the complacency of the school to

which he belonged, "although one might wish that all of this country

should travel, in order that the rest of the world might have the

benefit of the intercourse."

 

"It is a thousand pities," said John Effingham, "that one of our

universities, for instance, was not ambulant. Old Yale was so, in its

infancy; but unlike most other creatures, it went about with greater

ease to itself when a child, than it can move in manhood."

 

"Mr. John Effingham loves to be facetious," said Mr. Wenham with

dignity; for, while he was as credulous as could be wished, on the

subject of American superiority, he was not quite as blind as the

votaries of the Anglo-American school, who usually yield the control

of all their faculties and common sense to their masters, on the

points connected with their besetting weaknesses. "Every body is

agreed, I believe, that the American imparts more than he receives,

in his intercourse with Europeans."

 

The smiles of the more experienced of this young man's listeners were

well-bred and concealed, and the conversation turned to other

subjects. It was easy to raise the laugh on such an occasion, and

contrary to the usage of the Wigwam, where the men usually left the

table with the other sex, Captain Truck, John Effingham, Mr.

Bloomfield, and Mr. Howel, made what is called a night of it. Much

delicious claret was consumed, and the honest captain was permitted

to enjoy his cigar. About midnight he swore he had half a mind to

write a letter to Mrs. Hawker, with an offer of his hand; as for his

heart, that she well knew she had possessed for a long time.

 

The next day, about the hour when the house was tranquil, from the

circumstance that most of its inmates were abroad on their several

avocations of boating, riding, shopping, or walking, Eve was in the

library, her father having left it, a few minutes before, to mount

his horse. She was seated at a table, writing a letter to an aged

relative of her own sex, to communicate the circumstance of her

marriage. The door was half open, and Paul appeared at it

unexpectedly, coming in search of his young bride. His step had been

so light, and so intently was our heroine engaged with her letter,

that his approach was unnoticed, though it had now been a long time

that the ear of Eve had learned to know his tread, and her heart to

beat at its welcome sound. Perhaps a beautiful woman is never so

winningly lovely as when, in her neat morning attire, she seems fresh

and sweet as the new-born day. Eve had paid a little more attention

to her toilette than usual even, admitting just enough of a properly

selected jewelry, a style of ornament, that so singularly denotes the

refinement of a gentlewoman, when used understandingly, and which so

infallibly betrays vulgarity under other circumstances, while her

attire had rather more than its customary finish, though it was

impossible not to perceive, at a glance, that she was in an undress.

The Parisian skill of Annette, on which Mr. Bragg based so many of

his hopes of future fortune, had cut and fitted the robe to her

faultlessly beautiful person, with a tact, or it might be truer to

say a contact, so perfect, that it even left more charms to be

imagined than it displayed, though the outline of the whole figure

was that of the most lovely womanhood. But, notwithstanding the

exquisite modelling of the whole form, the almost fairy lightness of

the full, swelling, but small foot, about which nothing seemed lean

and attenuated, the exquisite hand that appeared from among the

ruffles of the dress, Paul stood longest in nearly breathless

admiration of the countenance of his "bright and blooming bride."

Perhaps there is no sentiment so touchingly endearing to a man, as

that which comes over him as he contemplates the beauty, confiding

faith, holy purity and truth that shine in the countenance of a

young, unpractised, innocent woman, when she has so far overcome her

natural timidity as to pour out her tenderness in his behalf, and to

submit to the strongest impulses of her nature. Such was now the fact

with Eve. She was writing of her husband, and, though her expressions

were restrained by taste and education, they partook of her

unutterable fondness and devotion. The tears stood in her eyes, the

pen trembled in her hand, and she shaded her face as if to conceal

the weakness from herself. Paul was alarmed, he knew not why, but Eve

in tears was a sight painful to him. In a moment he was at her side,

with an arm placed gently around her waist, and he drew her fondly

towards his bosom.

 

"Eve--dearest Eve!" he said--"what mean these tears?"

 

The serene eye, the radiant blush, and the meek tenderness that

rewarded his own burst of feeling, reassured the young husband, and,

deferring to the sensitive modesty of so young a bride, he released

hold, retaining only a hand.

 

"It is happiness, Powis--nothing but excess of happiness, which makes

us women weaker, I fear, than even sorrow."

 

Paul kissed her hands, regarded her with an intensity of admiration,

before which the eyes of Eve rose and fell, as if dazzled while

meeting his looks, and yet unwilling to lose them; and then he

reverted to the motive which had brought him to the library.

 

"My father--_your_ father, that is now--"

 

"Cousin Jack!"

 

"Cousin Jack, if you will, has just made me a present, which is

second only to the greater gift I received from your own excellent

parent, yesterday, at the altar. See, dearest Eve, he has bestowed

this lovely image of yourself on me; lovely, though still so far from

the truth. And here is the miniature of my poor mother, also, to

supply the place of the one carried away by the Arabs."

 

Eve gazed long and wistfully at the beautiful features of this image

of her husband's mother. She traced in them that pensive thought,

that winning kindness, that had first softened her heart towards

Paul, and her lips trembled as she pressed the insensible glass

against them.

 

"She must have been very handsome, Eve, and there is a look of

melancholy tenderness in the face, that would seem almost to predict

an unhappy blighting of the affections."

 

"And yet this young, ingenuous, faithful woman entered on the solemn

engagement we have just made, Paul, with as many reasonable hopes of

a bright future as we ourselves!"

 

"Not so, Eve--confidence and holy truth were wanting at the nuptials

of my parents. When there is deception at the commencement of such a

contract, it is not difficult to predict the end."

 

"I do not think, Paul, you ever deceived; that noble heart of yours

is too generous!"

 

"If any thing can make a man worthy of such a love, dearest, it is

the perfect and absorbing confidence with which your sex throw

themselves on the justice and faith of ours. Did that spotless