“Elizabeth!” exclaimed Louisa, blushing to thc eyes, and trembling like an aspen; “you misunderstood me, dear Miss Temple; I—I—it was only a conjecture.
Besides, if Mr. Edwards is related to the natives why should we reproach him?
In what are we better? at least I, who am the child of a poor and unsettled clergyman?”
Elizabeth shook her head doubtingly, and even laughed, but made no reply, until, observing the melancholy which pervaded the countenance of her companion, who was thinking of the poverty and labors of her father, she continued:
“Nay, Louisa, humility carries you too far.
The daughter of a minister of the church can have no superiors.
Neither I nor Mr. Edwards is quite your equal, unless,” she added, again smiling, “he is in secret a king.”
“A faithful servant of the King of kings, Miss Temple, is inferior to none on earth,” said Louisa; “but his honors are his own; I am only the child of a poor and friendless man, and can claim no other distinction.
Why, then, should I feel myself elevated above Mr. Edwards, because—because—perhaps he is only very, very distantly related to John Mohegan?”
Glances of a very comprehensive meaning were exchanged between the heiress and the young man, as Louisa betrayed, while vindicating his lineage, the reluctance with which she admitted his alliance with the old warrior; but not even a smile at the simplicity of their companion was indulged in by either.
“On reflection, I must acknowledge that my situation here is somewhat equivocal,” said Edwards, “though I may be said to have purchased it with my blood.”
“The blood, too, of one of the native lords of the soil!” cried Elizabeth, who evidently put little faith in his aboriginal descent. “Do I bear the marks of my lineage so very plainly impressed on my appearance?
I am dark, but not very red—not more so than common?”
“Rather more so, just now.”
“I am sure, Miss Temple,” cried Louisa, “you cannot have taken much notice of Mr. Edwards.
His eyes are not so black as Mohegan’s or even your own, nor is his hair.”
“Very possibly, then, I can lay claim to the same de scent It would be a great relief to my mind to think so, for I own that I grieve when I see old Mohegan walking about these lands like the ghost of one of their ancient possessors, and feel how small is my own right to possess them.”
“Do you?” cried the youth, with a vehemence that startled the ladies
“I do, indeed,” returned Elizabeth, after suffering a moment to pass in surprise; “but what can I do—what can my father do?
Should we offer the old man a home’ and a maintenance, his habits would compel him to refuse us.
Neither were we so silly as to wish such a thing, could we convert these clearings and farms again into hunting grounds, as the Leather-Stocking would wish to see them.”
“You speak the truth, Miss Temple,” said Edwards.
“What can you do indeed?
But there is one thing that I am certain you can and will do, when you become the mistress of these beautiful valleys—use your wealth with indulgence to the poor, and charity to the needy; indeed, you can do no more.”
“And That will be doing a good deal,” said Louisa, smiling in her turn.
“But there will, doubtless, be one to take the direction of such things from her hands.”
“I am not about to disclaim matrimony, like a silly girl, who dreams of nothing else from morn till night; but I am a nun here, without the vow of celibacy. Where shall I find a husband in these forests?”
“There is none, Miss Temple,” said Edwards quickly; “there is none who has a right to aspire to you, and I know that you will wait to be sought by your equal; or die, as you live, loved, respected, and admired by all who know you.”
The young man seemed to think that he had said all that was required by gallantry, for he arose, and, taking his hat, hurried from the apartment.
Perhaps Louisa thought that he had said more than was necessary, for she sighed, with an aspiration so low that it was scarcely audible to herself, and bent her head over her work again.
And it is possible that Miss Temple wished to hear more, for her eyes continued fixed for a minute on the door through which the young man had passed, then glanced quickly toward her companion, when the long silence that succeeded manifested how much zest may be given to the conversation of two maidens under eighteen, by the presence of a youth of three-and-twenty.
The first person encountered by Mr. Edwards, as he rather rushed than walked from the house, was the little square-built lawyer, with a large bundle of papers under his arm, a pair of green spectacles on his nose, with glasses at the sides, as if to multiply his power of detecting frauds by additional organs of vision.
Mr. Van der School was a well-educated man, but of slow comprehension, who had imbibed a wariness in his speeches and actions, from having suffered by his collisions with his more mercurial and apt brethren who had laid the foundations of their practice in the Eastern courts, and who had sucked in shrewdness with their mother’s milk.
The caution of this gentleman was exhibited in his actions, by the utmost method and punctuality, tinctured with a good deal of timidity; and in his speeches, by a parenthetical style, that frequently left to his auditors a long search after his meaning.
“A good-morning to you, Mr. Van der School,” said Edwards; “it seems to be a busy day with us at the mansion-house.”
“Good-morning, Mr. Edwards (if that is your name [for, being a stranger, we have no other evidence of the fact than your own testimony], as I understand you have given it to Judge Temple), good-morning, sir.
It is, apparently a busy day (but a man of your discretion need not be told [having, doubtless, discovered it of your own accord], that appearances are often deceitful) up at the mansion-house.”
“Have you papers of consequence that will require copying?
Can I be of assistance in any way?”
“There are papers (as doubtless you see [for your eyes are young] by the outsides) that require copying.”
“Well, then, I will accompany you to your office, and receive such as are most needed, and by night I shall have them done if there be much haste.”
“I shall always be glad to see you, sir, at my office (as in duty bound, not that it is obligatory to receive any man within your dwelling unless so inclined), which is a castle, according to the forms of politeness, or at any other place; but the papers are most strictly confidential (and, as such, cannot be read by any one), unless so directed (by Judge Temple’s solemn injunctions), and are invisible to all eyes; excepting those whose duties (I mean assumed duties) require it of them.”
“Well, sir, as I perceive that I can be of no service, I wish you another good-morning; but beg you will remember that I am quite idle just now, and I wish you would intimate as much to Judge Temple, and make him a ten der of my services in any part of the world, \ unless—unless—it be far from Templeton.”
“I will make the communication, sir, in your name (with your own qualifications), as your agent.
Good morning, sir.
But stay proceedings, Mr. Edwards (so called), for a moment.
Do you wish me to state the offer of travelling as a final contract (for which consideration has been received at former dates [by sums advanced], which would be binding), or as a tender of services for which compensation is to be paid (according to future agreement between the parties), on performance of the conditions?”
“Any way, any way,” said Edwards; “he seems in distress, and I would assist him.”
“The motive is good, sir (according to appearances which are often deceitful] on first impressions), and does you honor.
I will mention your wish, young gentleman (as you now seem), and will not fail to communicate the answer by five o’clock P.M. of this present day (God willing), if you give me an opportunity so to do.”