Afloat and Ashore by James Fenimore Cooper (best free e reader .txt) 📖

her hair-breadth escapes, of the weeks passed on the island, and of scenes that, a few years hence, will probably possess the colours of a dream, in her recollection."

" One pearl I will take, with this particular object"--said Emily, with more feeling than I had seen her manifest since she had got back into the 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 own sweetest manner. "Half a dozen of the finest of these pearls, of which one shall be on Miles' account, and five on mine."

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

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

"In the first place," he said, "I shall at once direct that the number be increased to seven; this fine one in the centre, and three on each side, gradually diminishing in size. We must look to quality, and not to weight, for the six puisne judges, as we should call them in the courts. The Chief Justice will be a noble-looking fellow, and the associates ought 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 man would have something worth living for."

"Rupert!" exclaimed Lucy, colouring--"you know it is because our government is republican, and that we have no nobles among us. Nor do you say exactly what you think; you would not be 'my lord,' if you could."

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

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

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

"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 you are giving yourself, and the taste and judgment you possess."

Lucy looked petrified. She had so long accustomed herself to think of Grace as her future sister, that the open admiration expressed in Rupert's countenance, which was too manifest to escape any of us, first threw a glimmering of light on suspicions of the most painful nature. I had long seen that Lucy understood her brother's character better than any of us--much better, indeed, than his simple-minded father; and, as for myself, I was prepared to expect anything but consistency and principle in his conduct. Dearly as I prized Lucy, and by this time the 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 sister should not marry her brother; and, so far from feeling resentment on account of his want of fidelity, I was rather disposed to rejoice at it. I could appreciate his want of merit, and his unfitness to be the husband of such a woman as Grace, even at my early age; but, alas! I could not appreciate the effects of his inconstancy on a heart like that of my sister. Could I have felt as easy on the subject of Mr. Andrew Drewett, and of my own precise position in society, I should have cared very little, just then, about Rupert, and his caprices.

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

"I shall make a faithful umpire, girls," I observed, as pearl after pearl was laid, first on one spot, then on another--"for I feel no preference between you--Grace is as Lucy; Lucy is as Grace, with me."

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

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

"You see, Miles, you had better have taken to the law--the ladies cannot appreciate the merits of you tars."

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

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

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

"We will certainly confide in the last," answered Grace. "The division is 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 is your's."

Grace rose, put her arms affectionately around my neck, and gave me one of the hundred kisses that I had received, first and last, for presents of one sort and another. The deep attachment that beamed in her saint-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 necklace in the bargain; but some faint fancies about Mrs. Miles Wallingford prevented me from so doing. As for Lucy, not a little to my surprise, she received the pearls, muttered a few unintelligible words, but did not even rise from her chair. Emily seemed to tire of this, so she caught up her gypsy, said the evening was getting to be delightful, and proposed a walk. Rupert and Grace cheerfully acquiesced, and the three soon left the place, Lucy preparing to follow, as soon as a maid could bring her hat, and I excusing myself on the score of business in my own room.

"Miles"--said Lucy, as I was about to enter the house, she herself standing 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 her portion 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. Miles Wallingford , if you prefer that."

This was said without the slightest appearance of any other feeling than a 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 respect appearances 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 scarce approve of my receiving them."

"And this from you , dear Lucy!"

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

"Will you answer me one question, as frankly and as honestly as you used to 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 the locket 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 that sense, 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, I might be disposed to doubt you, so many strange things exist, and so much caprice, especially in attachments, is manifested here, ashore!"

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

"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 that locket, 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 she arrested the impetuous indication, while her cheeks fairly burned with the blushes that suffused them.

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

The locket, at that moment, lay as near the blessed creature's heart as it could be placed; and her confusion proceeded from the shame of letting that fact be known. This I could not see, and consequently did not know. A very small and further indication of feeling on my part, might have betrayed the circumstance; but pride prevented it, and I took the still extended box, I dare say in a somewhat dramatic manner. Lucy looked 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 of receiving such large gifts from gentlemen. Miss Merton has gone through so much, so much in your company, Miles, that no wonder she is willing to retain some little memorial of it all, until--"

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

"When Rupert and I first went to sea, Lucy, you gave me your little treasure 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 been so kind to me, I rejoice I had a little gratitude. But, we are now in situations," she added, smiling so sweetly, as to render it difficult for me to refrain from catching her in my arms, and folding her to my heart; "that place both of us above the necessity of receiving aid of this sort."

"I am glad to hear