The Maroon Part 49

"'I'd be a b.u.t.terfly,'--"

sang Smythje-- "'born in a bower, Where lilies, and roses, and violets meet; Sporting for ever, from flower to flower; And--'"

And then, as if to contradict this pleasant routine of insect life, he was at that instant seen seizing a splendid _vanessa_, and crushing the frail creature between his kid-gloved fingers!

"Isn't he a superb fellow?" said Mr Vaughan, first gazing enthusiastically on Smythje, and then fixing his eyes upon his daughter, to note the character of the reply.

"I suppose he must be, papa--since everybody says so."

There was no enthusiasm in Kate's answer--nothing to encourage the Custos.

"Don't _you think so_, Kate?"

This was coming more directly to the point; but the response proved equally evasive.

"_You_ think so, papa--and that should do for both of us."

The melodious voice of Smythje again interrupted the dialogue, and turned it into a new channel.

_Smythje, singing_,--

"I'd never languish for wealth nor for power, I'd never sigh to see slaves at my feet!"

"Ah, Mr Smythje!" exclaimed the Custos, in a kind of soliloquy, though meant for the ear of Kate; "you have no need to sigh for them--you have them; five hundred of them. And beauties, too! Wealth and power, indeed! You needn't languish for either one or the other. The estate of Montagu Castle provides you with both, my boy!"

_Smythje, still chantant_:--

"Those who have wealth may be watchful and wary, Power, alas! nought but misery brings."

"Do you hear that, Kate? What fine sentiments he utters!"

"Very fine, and _apropos_ to the occasion," replied Kate, sarcastically.

"They are not his, however; but, no doubt, he feels them; and that's just as good."

"A splendid property!" continued Mr Vaughan, returning to what interested him more than the sentiments of the song, and not heeding the sarcasm conveyed in the speech of his daughter,--"a splendid property, I tell you; and, with mine joined to it, will make the grandest establishment in the Island. The Island, did I say? In the West Indies--ay, in the Western World! Do you hear that, my daughter?"

"I do, papa," replied the young Creole. "But you speak as if the two estates were to be joined together? Does Mr Smythje intend to purchase Mount Welcome? or you Montagu Castle?"

These questions were asked with an air of simplicity evidently a.s.sumed.

In truth, the interrogator knew well enough to what the conversation was tending; and, impatient with the ambiguity, every moment growing more painful to her, desired to bring it to its crisis.

Mr Vaughan was equally desirous of arriving at the same result, as testified by his reply.

"Ah, Kate! you little rogue!" said he, looking gratified at the opening thus made for him. "Egad! you've just hit the nail on the head. You've guessed right--only that we are both to be buyers. Mr Smythje is to purchase Mount Welcome; and what do you suppose he is to pay for it?

Guess that!"

"Indeed, father, I cannot! How should I know? I am sure I do not.

Only this I know, that I am sorry you should think of parting with Mount Welcome. I, for one, shall be loth to leave it. Though I do not expect _now_ ever to be happy here, I think I should not be happier anywhere else."

Mr Vaughan was too much wound-up in the thread of his own thoughts to notice the emphasis on the word "now," or the double meaning of his daughter's words.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed he; "Mr Smythje's purchase won't dispossess us of Mount Welcome. Don't be afraid of that, little Kate. But, come, try and guess the price he is to pay?"

"Father, I need not try. I am sure I could not guess it--not within thousands of pounds."

"Not a thousand pounds! no, not one pound, unless his great big heart weighs that much, and his generous hand thrown into the scale--for that, Catherine, that is the price he is to pay."

Mr Vaughan wound up this speech with a significant glance, and a triumphant gesture, expressive of astonishment at his own eloquence.

He looked for a response--one that would reciprocate his smiles and the joyful intelligence he fancied himself to have communicated.

He looked in vain. Notwithstanding the perspicuity of his explanation, Kate obstinately refused to comprehend it.

Her reply was provokingly a "shirking of the question."

"His heart and his hand, you say? Neither seem very heavy. But is it not very little for an estate where there are many hands and many hearts, too? To whom does he intend to give his? You have not let me know that, papa!"

"I shall let you know now," replied the father, his voice changing to a more serious tone, as if a little nettled by Kate's evident design to misunderstand him. "I shall let you know, by telling you what I intend to give him for Montagu Castle. I told you we were both to be buyers in this transaction. It is a fair exchange, Kate, hand for hand, and heart for heart. Mr Smythje freely gives his, and I give _yours_."

"Mine!"

"Ay, yours. Surely, Kate, I have not made a mistake? Surely you are agreeable to the exchange?"

"Father," said the young girl, speaking in a tone of womanly gravity, "there can be no exchange of hearts between Mr Smythje and myself. He may have given his to me. I know not, nor do I care. But I will not deceive you, father. My heart he can never have. It is not in my power to give it to him."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr Vaughan, startled by this unexpected declaration; "you are deceiving yourself, my child, when you talk thus.

I do not see how you can fail to like Mr Smythje--so generous, so accomplished, so handsome as he is! Come, you are only jesting, Kate?

You do like him? You do not hate him?"

"No, no! I do not hate him! Why should I? Mr Smythje has done nothing to offend me. I believe he is very honourable."

"Why, that is almost saying that you like him!" rejoined the father, in a tone of returning gratification.

"Liking is not love," murmured Kate, as if speaking to herself.

"It may turn to it," said the Custos, encouragingly. "It often does-- especially when two people become man and wife. Besides, it's not always best for young married folks to be too fond of each other at first. As my old spelling book used to say, 'Hot love soon grows cold.'

Never fear, Kate! you'll get to like Mr Smythje well enough, when you come to be the mistress of Montagu Castle, and take rank as the grandest lady of the Island. Won't that be happiness, little Kate?"

"Ah!" thought the young Creole, "a cabin shared with _him_ would be greater happiness--far, far greater!"

It is needless to say that the "him" to whom the thought pointed was not Smythje.

"As Mrs Montagu Smythje," proceeded the Custos, with a design of painting the future prospects of his daughter in still more glowing tints, "you will have troops of friends--the highest in the land. _And remember, my child, it is not so note_. You know it, Catherine?"

These last words were p.r.o.nounced in a tone suggestive of some secret understanding between father and daughter.

Whether the speech produced the desired effect, he who made it did not stay to perceive; but continued on in the same breath to finish the rose-coloured picture he had essayed to paint.

"Yes, my little Kate! you will be the observed of all observers--the _cynosure_ of every eye, as the poets say. Horses, slaves, dresses, carriages at will. You will make a grand tour to London--egad! I feel like going myself! In the great metropolis you will hob-n.o.b with lords and ladies; visit the operas and b.a.l.l.s, where you will be a belle, my girl--a belle, do you hear? Every one will be talking of Mrs Montagu Smythje! How do you like it now?"