Bart Ridgeley Part 18

"If you are ambitious, you have but to wait until the leading spirit comes. What a help you would be to him!"

"He might never come, or I might not know him when--"

"Or you would not love him, if you did know him."

"He might not love me; or, if he did, I might drive him away. But that is not what was in my mind, although a woman must be ambitious through another. To be one of these young men, to know their minds, to feel their hopes and ambitions, and struggle with and against them, for the places, the honors and leaderships!"

"And would you never love and wed, woo and marry?"

"Yes; and I would like to see the woman who would scorn me. I would take her as mine, and she should not choose but love me!"

"Why, Julia! who would think that you, sweet and deep as you are, could say such things! Would you like to be wooed in that way?"

"I never came to that. I am only a woman without aim in life. I am only to float along between flowery banks, until somebody fishes me out, I suppose!"

"I am sure, were I you, I could well float on until the right man came; and you, Julia, it is your own fault if you do not marry for love. You will not be obliged to consult anything else."

"And you?" said Julia, laughing.

"I? oh! I am dependent on my brother, you know."

"Yes, and there comes in the hardship; were you a man, you could go out and make and choose. Now, a daughter remains where her father and mother leave her. The sons may rise, the daughters stay below, and if sought for, it is usually in the same channels in which the parents move, and that is the hardship of those who, unlike you, are on a lower plane, or who, like you, have no father and mother to sustain them in their proper place. If you could win wealth, you would only marry for love; and I am sure you will do so now."

"A woman who wins fortune usually loses the capacity to win love, I fear," said Flora.

"And the woman who wins nothing deserves nothing," said Julia. "I am a little like my mother, I presume; but who would win you, and how, I wonder?"

"Oh," answered Flora, "I suppose the man who really and truly loved me. I would like to have him come, as the breeze comes, with the odor of flowers, as the spring comes, with music and song, with all sweet and gentle influences, with beauty and grace; but he must not be effeminate."

"He would have to be a good waltzer, I presume?"

"Would that be an objection?" asked Flora.

"No; but a man who excels in these light accomplishments may fail in the stronger qualities. I admit that beauty and grace would go a great way, if one could have them also."

"Julia, were I you, I would have them all."

"Girls, what are you loitering along there for? Talking over the young lawyers, I'll bet; who takes which?" called back Kate, impetuously; "I don't want either."

All the afternoon long, Bart was sad and silent, and spite of himself, his thoughts would hover about that bright place in the maple woods, sweet with one face of indescribable beauty; one form, one low, many-toned voice which haunted--would haunt him.

He came in to a latish supper, with a grave face. The spring was not in his step; the ring was not in his voice, or the sparkle in his words.

The two guests were in high spirits, and talked gushingly of the young ladies they had met, and they wondered that it did not provoke even a sarcasm from him.

"It would compensate you for not going," said Ranney, kindly, "if we were to tell you what was said of you in your absence."

"And who said it," added Henry. Not a word, nor a look even.

"One might be willing to be called a genius, for such words, and from such a young lady," ventured Ranney.

"I am not sure but that I would even venture upon poetry, under such inspiration," said Henry.

To the youth these remarks sounded like sarcasm, and he felt too poor even to retort.

"Oh, boys!" finally said Bart, "it is good exercise for us all; _persiflage_ is not your 'best holt,' as the wrestlers would say, and you need practice, while I want to accustom myself to irony and sarcasm without replying. If by any possibility you can, between you, get off a good thing at my expense, it would confer a lasting obligation; but I don't expect it."

"Upon my word--" began Ranney.

"We all speak kindly of our own dead," said Bart, "and should hardly expect the dead to hear what we said. Mother said you had determined to leave us in the morning;" to Ranney--"Our brother the Major will be home in the morning, and would be glad to make your acquaintance, and show you some attention." And so he escaped.

When Ranney took leave the next morning, he kindly remarked to Bart that he would at any time find a place in his office, and should have his best endeavor to advance his studies. It was sincere, and that was one of the charms of his character. Bart was pleased with it, and it almost compensated for the unintentional wounds of the night before.

CHAPTER XXI.

A DEPARTURE.

Morris came, and the brothers were together, and the two elder went around to many of their old acquaintance--many not named here, as not necessary to the incidents of this story. For some reason Barton did not accompany them. If anything was said between them about him, no mention of it was made to him. Henry came to regard him with more interest, and to treat him with marked tenderness and consideration, which Bart took as a kindly effort to efface from his mind the pain that he supposed Henry must be aware he had given him. Had he supposed that it arose from an impression that he was suffering from any other cause, he would have coldly shrunk from it.

At the end of ten days, Henry's baggage was sent out to Hicc.o.x's for the stage, and he took leave of his mother, Morris, Edward, and George, and, accompanied by Bart, walked out to the State road, to take the stage for Painesville, where his work was to begin. He was in bright spirits; his hopes were high; he was much nearer home; his communication was easier, and his absences would be shorter.

Bart, for some reason, was more depressed than usual. On their way down, Henry asked him about a Mr. Greer whom he first saw at the sugar party, and afterwards at Parker's, and who had seemed to take much interest in Bart. Bart had met him only once or twice, and was not favorably impressed by him. Henry said that he had talked of seeing Bart, and that he (Henry) rather liked him.

It had been already talked over and understood that Bart should go to Painesville in the Fall, and enter fully upon the study of the law. As they reached the stage-road, Bart's depression had been remarked by Henry, who made an ineffectual effort to arouse him. Finally the stage came rattling down the hill, and drew up. The brothers shook hands.

Henry got in, and the stage was about to move away, when Bart sprang upon the step, and called out "Henry!" who leaned his face forward, and received Barton's lips fully on his mouth. Men of the Yankee nation never kiss each other, and the impression produced upon Henry was great. Tears fell upon his face as their lips met, and from his eyes, as the heavy coach rolled into the darkness of the night.

Are there really such things as actual presentiments? G.o.d alone knows.

Is the subtle soul-atmosphere capable of a vibration at the approach and in advance of an event? And are some spirits so acutely attuned as to be over-sensible of this vibration? G.o.d knows. Or was the act of Bart, like many of his, due to sudden impulse? Perhaps he could not tell. If the faculty was his, don't envy him.

Barton had already resumed his connection with Gen. Ford's office.

The General had returned full of his winter's labors, and found an intelligent and sympathizing listener in Bart, who had a relish for politics and the excitements of political life, although he was resolved to owe no consideration that he might ever win to political position.

Under the stimulus from his intercourse with his brother and Ranney, and profiting by their hints and suggestions, he plunged more eagerly into law-books than ever. He constructed a light boat, with a pair of sculls, and rigged also with a spar and sail, with which to traverse the pond, with places to secure it on the opposite sh.o.r.es; and early pa.s.sers along the State road, that overlooked the placid waters, often marked a solitary boatman pulling a little skiff towards the eastern sh.o.r.e.

And once, a belated picnic party, returning from Barker's landing, discovered a phantom sail flitting slowly in the night breeze over the dark waters to the west. They lingered on the brow of the hill, until it disappeared under the shadow of the western wooded sh.o.r.e, wondering and questioning much as to who and what it was. One, the loveliest, knew, but said nothing.

The Markhams, one day, in their carriage, pa.s.sed Bart with his books toiling up Oak Hill. He removed his hat as they pa.s.sed, without other recognition. All of them felt the invisible wall between them, and two, at least, silently regretted that they might not invite him to an unoccupied seat. They were at the Fords' to dinner that day, and Bart, being invited to join them by the General, politely declined.

The General was a little grave at the table, while Mrs. Ford was decided and marked in her commendation of the young student, and described, with great animation, a little excursion they had made over to the pond, and the skill with which Bart had managed his little sail-boat.