Sea-gift

Is there anybody like me, or do my readers all paste their leaves down as they turn them over? If you do not you will never get farther in the book of reform than the preface!

But, whether we worked or idled, the days ever passed on Ned and I were taking our stroll one evening in the early part of the fall. We had just turned our faces back towards the college when a gentleman and lady on horseback approached. Before I could withdraw my eyes from an impolite stare, they had passed and were sweeping on far ahead.

From that moment study was at an end for me. Soul and body was wrapped in admiration of this beautiful vision, that had flitted by like a dream. Yet I had not seen her face; only the glorious wealth of golden hair, mingling and tossing with the long blue plume in her cap; only the superb form, gracefully swaying to the motion of her prancing steed; only the flutter of a rich white skirt beneath the blue velvet robe, and my heart was gone.

“Great Heavens!” I exclaimed, grasping Ned’s arm, “what a beauty! Who is she, Ned?”

“How should I know?” he replied, coolly. “I suppose it is DeVare’s sweetheart, as this is the second time I have seen him out riding with her.”

“DeVare! then I may yet know her and be happy. Won’t it be glorious, old fellow?” and I slapped Ned’s shoulder exultingly.

“Just half crazy, that’s all you are as yet, John.”

“But see, Ned, they are returning. My throbbing heart, be still, that I may gaze!”

As she again flashed by the wondrous beauty of her face and form made my jesting extravagance to Ned seem almost reasonable. I could think or talk of nothing else till we reached our room, and as soon as the lamps were lit, and I thought DeVare was in his room, I went to it. I found only Carrover there, but he said DeVare would be in presently, and told me to wait.

Carrover and DeVare roomed together, and, as their rooms were on the same floor, and very near ours, we had become very intimate with them. Our intimacy was strengthened and made more pleasant by Ned and me becoming members of their club, so that they became our fastest friends, and we had even reached the point of calling them Charlie and Ramie. While I liked them both, yet Raymond DeVare was my favorite. Carrover was courteous and kind, but there was always a slight touch of frigidity about him – a formality I could never quite penetrate – and as constantly as I was thrown in his company I could never feel at perfect ease; I always felt younger, more unsophisticated and more capable of making blunders when he was looking at me than at any other time. He was so quiet and possessed in his air of savoir faire that I always feared he was thinking that all I did was out of time or place, and was pitying my ignorance. This feeling was not strong enough to constrain me in his presence, or suppress my flow of spirits, but when with him I was always conscious of a slight hesitation in word and action. With DeVare it was different. He was even more refined and gentle than Carrover, but he thought too much of others to think he knew more, and while he was the most brilliant man in his class, yet his nature’s vocabulary had no such word as conceit in it. He always made me feel that I knew as much as he did, and, whenever we conversed, afforded me the pleasure of believing that I was very entertaining. He never ridiculed anybody, and I felt that I could eat peas with my knife, under his eye, and he never would remind me that it was customary to use a fork. He had that instinctive and yet cultivated delicacy that cared for another’s feelings as if they were his own. Yet, when anything was wrong, he always condemned it with firmness, yet without bitterness. His moral character was spotless.

But I am digressing again. I was waiting, then, for him to come to his room. I lolled down on the bed while Carrover continued to study.

In a few moments we heard DeVare’s step, and he came into the room.

“Well,” I said, rising up on one elbow, “I have been waiting for you a long time. Now, tell who was that superb woman you were riding with this afternoon, and where does she live? My heart is hers eternally. I’ll vow, Ramie, I never saw as much beauty done up in one bundle before.”

DeVare frowned his brows at me and motioned his head towards Carrover, but as I thought he meant I would disturb him, I lowered my voice and went on:

“Please tell me about her, Ramie. I know you love her. You couldn’t be with her and not love her. Promise me you’ll take me to see her and I’ll hush, and let Charlie get his lesson.”

I looked at Charlie as I spoke and found him still intent on his page, but smiling peculiarly, as if there was something ridiculous in Blackstone.

“By the way, Charlie,” said DeVare, as if my question was forgotten, “what do you think of the case for the Moot Court to-morrow evening?”

“I had not given it much thought,” said Carrover, going to the bookcase for a volume; “what was the statement of facts?”

“Oh, bother the Moot Court,” I said, getting off the bed, I’m on another kind of court now. Tell me about the girl, DeVare, and I’ll leave you and Carrover to your old, dry discussions.”

“Jack, you are persistent,” said DeVare, with a laugh in the corner of each eye, as if he foresaw my confusion, “the lady I was riding with this afternoon was Miss Lillian Carrover, Charlie’s sister.”

I felt a hot tingle run up my cheeks, then run down again, and I glanced hurriedly at Carrover. He was still standing at the bookcase with his back toward me, and seemed as if he had not heard our conversation. I first thought of asking his pardon, but on second thought I changed the subject, and, after making one or two common-place remarks, left the room, resolving in the future not to be so free with my tongue.

The next day Ramie assured me that Carrover had not thought anything of it, and told me that if I still desired her acquaintance he would take much pleasure in introducing me. I informed him that no other thought or hope had been entertained by me since I had seen her, and besought him to make his convenience as early as possible.

We fixed on the morrow’s night as the time of our visit, and the pages of my books were all blank to my prëoccupied thoughts for the next twenty-four hours.

Virgil wrote about Lillian instead of Amaryllis, and stolid Socrates seemed to advise the cultivation of love for an angel in blue velvet. An equation of the fourth degree on the blackboard resolved itself into a horse, with a leg for each degree; and the only thing in the Algebra of any interest to me was the concrete example about the saddle and bridle being changed by mountings of different value. I was constantly with DeVare when not in lecture, and gathered from him, in reference to my sudden flame, that she was Carrover’s only sister; that she was a North Carolinian by birth, but had been adopted by a rich uncle in New York; that she had been a Fifth Avenue belle since her fifteenth year; that she had returned in the last spring from an extended European tour; that she had made a conquest of all the hearts from Saratoga to the White Sulphur during the past summer; and, while staying at the last named springs, had met with Miss Minnie, our Professor’s daughter, an old playmate and friend. Reviving the old intimacy, she had agreed to come to North Carolina with her, and spend part of the winter at the University.

On the morrow’s afternoon DeVare showed me a delicately perfumed billet-doux, in most exquisite chirography, stating that Miss Carrover would be most happy to see Mr. DeVare and his friend from half past nine to ten and half. As the parlors of the favorite young ladies at the University were crowded every night, the plan had been adopted of engaging the hours, so that a young lady could specify the hour at which she would receive a visit from a gentleman, and he was not at liberty to stay longer unless he was specially invited, and no others had come in. Where there were so many students to so few ladies this served to avoid confusion, and gave the many who wished to call something like a chance to be heard, each for himself.

That evening, immediately after tea, I commenced getting ready, and after completely exhausting my wardrobe and patience, felt but poorly prepared to be introduced to a young lady who had actually been to Europe, and reigned as one of the queens of our metropolitan society.

As we neared the door I wondered that DeVare could be so cool and composed, while my heart was fluttering so that my limbs caught the tremor, and, in spite of the warm, pleasant night, persisted in having the ague. I saw that the curtain was down as we knocked at the door, but there was the reflection of light within, and the murmur of several voices. I had been thinking all the time of what to say first. I felt that I could get on very well after the conversation started, but how to fill up with appropriate remarks that dismal silence just after the introduction, was more than my inexperience could compass. I had made up some absurd compliment about the beautiful northern flower blooming still sweetly in southern soil, but the rat-tat of the knocker dissipated every collected thought, and left my mind blanker than before.

A servant answered our knock; we hung our hats on the stand. I arranged my cravat and smoothed on my glove for the thirty-seventh time, and the next thing I knew I was in a throng of faces, from which rose up one with a wavy mass of tawny hair, drooping sleepy eyes, and red lips, that parted over smooth white teeth. I thought I heard DeVare’s voice, as in a dream: “Miss Carrover, allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Smith,” and I bowed till the part in my hair alone was visible.

There was another lady in the room, Miss Minnie, the daughter of the Professor, and I took the only seat in sight, which was near her. Notwithstanding our engagement, the parlor was full of gentlemen, and, to my horror, many of them were Sophs. There was quite a crowd of these around Miss Minnie, who was a vivacious little personage, full of mischief and wit, and dispensing her smiles and bon mots around with generous impartiality. As the conversation had begun before I entered I could not very well join in, and as no one addressed any remark to me, I sat bolt upright in my chair, with one arm thrown, with an attempt at ease, over the back, while the other fumbled at my watch chain.

DeVare had found a seat near Miss Carrover, and was soon absorbed in conversation with her – supposing, of course, that after an introduction I would have nothing to do but proceed to enjoyment. A procedure not always of consummate ease!

As I was sitting very near the circle around Miss Minnie, I soon found that I was not only the object of their mischievous glances but also of their wit. Their tones were just loud enough for me to hear, and after each sally all would join in a laugh, which Miss Minnie often led. From this they began to address themselves to me, calling me Fresh, asking what I had come for, and if I was not ashamed to use the parlor mirror to dress by. (I had been unconsciously adjusting my cravat in the mirror over the mantel.)

As I was not certain whether the Sophs’ prerogative extended to a private parlor or not, I was afraid to say anything, but sat still, while my embarrassment drove the blood almost through my cheeks, and beaded my forehead with great drops of perspiration.

Miss Minnie then inquired if I would sit still or take a seat nearer the fire – the point of her remark lying in fact that it was quite a warm night, and there was not a spark in the fireplace.

I tried to say “No, thank you,” but not recognizing my own voice, cut it off with “No – ,” which itself was so meekly stammered it had no decided negative character; but it had the effect of raising all the voices of the Sophs, who cried out:

“Oh, how impolite, Fresh, to say no to a lady! Where did you learn your manners? How extremely vulgar!”

I was just on the point of rushing from the room when DeVare’s attention was attracted at this outcry, and he took in the position of affairs at a glance. His face was aglow with scorn and indignation as he rose from Miss Carrover’s side and strode to our part of the room.

“Gentlemen,” he said – looking with withering contempt on the circle around Miss Minnie, “though the term is a misnomer – I have introduced Mr. Smith here: an insult to him is an insult to me. The presence of ladies is no place for a quarrel, but I characterize your conduct as ungentlemanly, and will be ready to hear from any of you at any time. You know my name and the number of my room. Miss Minnie, pardon me, but I am surprised that you should have allowed or encouraged such conduct in your house.”

“Really, Mr. DeVare, you are not in earnest?” said Miss Minnie, with imperturbable good humor. “Why, I thought even the ladies had a right to tease the Fresh.”

“That is just as you please to think, Miss Minnie,” he replied, with one of his bows; “the gentlemen have heard my opinion of their conduct.”

“Lil, you and I will leave the parlor if the gentlemen wish to fight,” said Miss Minnie, making a pretence of rising to leave the room.

Miss Carrover looked at her with a shake of her head, and with her soft rich voice said: “Minnie!” Then, turning to DeVare —

“Come here, Mr. DeVare, Minnie is only jesting. Mr. Smith,” addressing me, “have you seen these stereoscopic views of the University? My brother had them taken last spring. Take a seat here on the sofa and look them over with me, and see if you can recognize them all.”

Her manner was so composed and gracious that we were all reseated and everything quiet before we knew it. I had felt so miserably wretched while DeVare and Miss Minnie were speaking that I felt eternally grateful to Miss Carrover for relieving me, even though she treated me as if I were very young, in doing it.

In a moment or two all save DeVare and myself rose to leave – Brazon, who was the ringleader in Miss Minnie’s persecuting circle, scowling malignantly at DeVare as he bowed himself out.

As soon as they had gone Miss Minnie came to where I was sitting, and, with winning frankness, offered her hand, saying:

“It was very naughty in me, Mr. Smith, to tease you. I beg pardon, and promise not to do so any more.”

I caught her hand convulsively, and assured her of my entire forgiveness, and implored her not to give herself any trouble on my account, and much more to the same incoherent effect.

She drew her hand gently from mine, and calling DeVare, said —

“Mr. DeVare, let’s take those seats by the window; I have a fuss to make up with you, too.”

DeVare, of course, complied, and I was left alone on the sofa with Miss Carrover. We still had the box of pictures in our hands, but as soon as DeVare left she closed the box and said:

“Let’s put these tiresome old pictures up, and talk some. Tell me all about the way the Sophs treated you when you first came.”

To be near such superb beauty was almost too much for my poor sentimental heart; and then to have her wish to hear me talk, and even prescribe the subject, as if my words would be full of so much interest! I was stupid for awhile with surprise, and sat for nearly half a minute gazing abstractedly and impolitely in her face. Indeed, ‘twas well worth gazing on.

Her hair was not done up regularly, but caught in great loose folds around her head, so as to best set off her face, and was rolled back from her clear white forehead in a great golden wave – yet its color was not altogether golden; it had a tinge of red that made it glow with a tawny light. Her skin was perfectly smooth and clear, and of wax-like whiteness, tinged with a bright peach pink on her cheeks. But her chief charms were her eyes and mouth. Her eyes were hazel or dark gray, I could never tell which, shaded with very long lashes and deep upper lids, that gave them a dreamy, languid expression, that always impresses us as most beautiful, we know not why. Her mouth was small, and very much arched at the corners; her lips bright red, and her teeth perfectly white; the upper lip protruded slightly, as if she was ever a little surprised, and this, combined with a constant slight arch of the eyebrows, imparted an air of interest in all you said, notwithstanding the languor of her general expression. Her beauty was Dudu’s, and Byron well knew its fascinating power.

As soon as I recovered from my brief contemplation of her face I made an attempt to give her my experience as a Fresh, and what with the pleasure of talking at all to her, and her interest in my subject, and continued ejaculations of pity, I began to wish the fellows had done me much worse than they had, it was so delightful to have her listen to the recital of my woes. When I told her of my fainting under the smoking, she smiled such a lazy little smile, and said, “I did not know gentlemen indulged in such feminine weaknesses.”

“But the air was so noxious, Miss Carrover, no one could have borne it. You would have been compelled to faint.”

“Oh, I faint quite easily,” she said, arching one eyebrow instead of two, “I came near falling from my horse as I went to mount last evening, and became unconscious for a little while.”

“And was no one there to catch you?” I asked, with earnest heroism in my tone.

“Oh, of course, I took care to be provided with that safeguard. Do you think you could catch me if we were riding and I should fall?”

“I would catch you if you fell from the skies,” I replied, warmly, involuntarily feeling my arm, as if it belonged to Hercules, and looking at her just in time to catch a glance of significance passing between herself and DeVare. Feeling that perhaps I was just a little ridiculous, I endeavored to leave the subject gradually by asking if she was fond of riding horseback, and begging the honor of an engagement for the next evening. She thanked me, and said that as she had introduced the subject I might have construed it into a hint, and she must therefore decline the offer. As I seemed so cut down, however, she agreed to make an indefinite engagement, the time to be fixed any time after that evening.

She then drew me out about our halls and libraries, till I had told of every alcove, and how well they were arranged for courting, and that all the students carried their sweethearts there, and ended by asking her to go with me there some evening after lecture. Another lazy smile, and she softly reminded me that she had introduced that topic also, and must therefore decline again, “at least,” she said, looking at me sideways under her long lashes, “till you claim me as your sweetheart, as you state that it is the resort of lovers only.”

I flushed and hushed for a moment, when DeVare rose from his seat with Miss Minnie, and said it was time for us to go.

Miss Carrover gave me her hand at parting, and insisted on my calling again with so much sweet earnestness that I made myself ridiculous again in my promise to do so.

We had scarcely passed outside the gate when I commenced:

“DeVare, is she not perfectly splendid! I’ll vow I’m crazy about her.”

“That was shameful conduct in those scoundrels to-night,” DeVare said, without noticing my remark, “and had it not been for Miss Minnie and Lillian I would have punished them on the spot.”

“Do you call her Lillian, Ramie?” I asked with surprise.

“If any of them want satisfaction for anything I said to-night,” he continued, without heeding me, “I will have to request you, Jack, to act as my friend.”

“You may depend on me, Ramie; but if there is to be any difficulty, I must be the principal, as it was all begun on my account.”

“Oh, nonsense,” he said. “I gave the insult to them, and of course I only can satisfy them. I do not expect anything, however, from that crowd, as they are too cowardly to resent an insult.”

We parted at his room, and when I reached mine I made Ned put up his books for the night, and listen to my account of Miss Carrover.

When I had at last wearied him out, and we went to bed, I could not go to sleep for the dancing train of fancies that were rushing through my mind. I lay there till far in the night, recalling every incident of my visit, trying to make its memory as vivid as possible, thinking of every word she had said, and regretting the many foolish things I had said, which might lessen me in her estimation – (but oh! I hoped not!) – wondering how she who had seen so much of society, who had seen everything worth seeing in Europe and America, and knew almost everybody worth knowing, could be so interested in my talk – a youth just approaching manhood, unused to the ways of the world and unskilled in the use of the tongue. Then I would, by an ingenious process, known only to those who are vain, endeavor to convince myself that she did like me, and would eventually love me. I would imagine her telling Miss Minnie that I was a handsome fellow, and so entertaining; then wishing for me to call again, then giving me a preference in attention when I did call, then writing sweet notes of thanks for the many love tokens and gifts I would send her, then a moonlight stroll, a courtship, a kiss, and eternal happiness!

I would fall asleep only to rebuild and embellish in my dreams the magnificent air castles of my waking hours.

CHAPTER XX

The morning after our visit I was in DeVare’s room, waiting for him to come in from lecture, when some one knocked, and, in answer to my invitation, Ellerton, a Sophomore, who had been kind to me at first, entered, and asked for DeVare. Finding that I expected him in soon, he took a seat, and commenced some trivial talk about college matters. He had had nothing to do with me since I joined DeVare’s club, and a salutation when we passed had been the extent of our intercourse since early in the session.

He spoke with regret of the last night’s affair, and said DeVare ought not to have been so quick to resent the fellows’ fun. This, of course, nettled me, and I was about to make an angry reply, when DeVare himself came in. He bowed to Ellerton, who rose and handed him a note. DeVare’s brow contracted as he read it, and as soon as he finished he tossed it to me, and sitting down to his writing table, commenced his reply. The note he had received was from Brazon, demanding a retraction of the language used last evening, and an apology in the presence of both ladies, or the usual satisfaction. Ere I had finished reading DeVare folded and addressed his answer, and Ellerton, receiving it, bowed himself out.

DeVare looked at me and smiled as I asked him what he intended to do.

“My self-respect forbids that I should entertain a thought of yielding to the first demand; custom and public opinion compel me to grant the second. I wrote, therefore, that I had no remark to regret, and no retraction to make; and that I would accord him any satisfaction he might desire I took the liberty of referring him to you, as my friend.”

“You were perfectly right in that; but, DeVare, I must take your place, and be the principal in this affair, as it was all undertaken on my account.”

“That could not be, Jack, even if I were willing, which I certainly am not. Do not trouble yourself about it, for I do not feel one particle of concern or uneasiness in reference to it. You had best now go to Ellerton’s room, and confer with him in regard to the arrangements. One thing I will mention: if there has to be a meeting get it put off till the end of the session, as the laws of the University require instant expulsion for any one in anywise connected with a duel.”

I had scarcely risen from my seat when Ellerton again tapped at the door, to request me to walk with him over to his room.

I rose and followed him, feeling, I must confess, somewhat important as second in a duel which would create quite a stir, and yet feeling sadly conscious that it was a strange manifestation of friendship to be arranging preliminaries for my friend’s possible and probable death.

When we reached Ellerton’s room he motioned me to take a seat, and said:

“Brazon has read DeVare’s note, and as he refuses to apologize, I wish to know when he will meet him, and with what weapons?”

“O! Ellerton!” I said, thoroughly unmanned, “cannot this wretched affair be settled without recourse to arms? I was the unintentional cause of it all, and, as DeVare will not hear of my taking his place on the field, I will submit to any humiliation to save him.”

“I don’t think your humiliation would do much good,” he remarked, coolly, sticking his knife through a match lying on the table, and splitting the phosphorus into a blaze. “DeVare is the man who insulted him, and Brazon will alone be satisfied with his blood.”