Tales for Fifteen

"A baker's dozen."

Charlotte laughed, and the youth felt mortified. The laugh was natural, and clearly extorted, without a thought of himself.

"When you are all married," he said, "you will form a little world in yourselves."

"When the sky falls we shall catch larks."

"Surely, you intend to marry?"

Maria made no reply, but turned her eyes on Delafield, with an affected expression of melancholy that excited another laugh in her friend.

"You certainly have made no rash vow on the subject," continued Seymour, pretending to a slight interest in her answer.

"My troth is not yet plighted," said the lady, a little archly.

"But there is no telling how long it will continue so."

"I am afraid so – thirteen is a dreadful divisor for a small family estate."

A general movement in the party was gladly seized by Charlotte as an excuse to go, and Delafield handed her to her carriage, with the mortifying conviction that she was utterly indifferent to every thing but the civility of the act.

CHAPTER III

It was quite early on the following morning, when Mr. Delafield rung at the door of the house in which the father of Miss Henly resided. The gentleman had obtained the permission of the young lady, the preceding evening, to put himself on the list of her visiting acquaintance, and a casual introduction to both of Charlotte's parents had smoothed the way to this intimacy. It is certain, that, much as Mr. and Mrs. Henly loved their child, neither of them entertained the selfish wish of monopolizing all of her affections to themselves during life. It was natural, and a thing to be expected, that Charlotte should marry; and among the whole of their acquaintance there appeared no one so unobjectionable as her new admirer. He was agreeable in person, in manners, and in temper; he was intelligent, witty, and a man of the world; and, moreover, he was worth – three hundred thousand dollars! What parent is there whose judgment would remain unbiassed by these solid reasons in favour of a candidate for the hand of his child? or what female is there whose heart could be steeled against such attractions in her suitor? Many were the hours of care that had been passed by the guardians of Charlotte's happiness, in ruminating on the event that was to yield their charge to the keeping of another; frequent were their discussions on this interesting subject, and innumerable their plans to protect her inexperience against falling into those errors that had blasted the peace of so many around them; but the appearance of Seymour Delafield seemed as the fulfilment of their most sanguine expectations. To his refinement of manners, they both thought that they could yield the sensitive delicacy of their child with confidence; in his travelled experience they anticipated the permanency of a corrected taste; nor, was it a disagreeable consideration to either, that as the silken cord of paternal discipline was to be loosened, it was to be succeeded by the fetters of hymen cast in polished gold. In what manner their daughter regarded the evident admiration of Mr. Delafield will appear, by the conclusion of our tale.

On entering the parlour, Delafield found George Morton seated in a chair near the fire, with his person more than usually well guarded against the cold, as if he were suffering under the effects of a serious indisposition. The salutations between the young men were a little embarrassed on both sides; the face of George growing even paler than before, while the fine colour on Delafield's cheek mounted to his very temples. After regarding for a moment, with much inward dissatisfaction, the apparent ease with which George was maintaining possession of the apartment by himself, Mr. Delafield overcame the sudden emotion created by the surprise, and spoke.

"I am sorry that you appear so ill, Mr. Morton, and I regret that you should have suffered so much in the cause of humanity, when one so much better able to undergo the fatigue, by constitution, should have remained an idle spectator, like myself." —

The silent bow of George might be interpreted into a desire to say nothing of his own conduct, or into an assent with the self-condemnation of the speaker. Delafield, however, took the chair which the other politely placed for him, and continued —

"But, Sir, you have your reward. The interest and admiration excited in Miss Henly, would compensate me for almost any privation or hardship that man could undergo."

"It is no hardship to ride a few miles in a comfortable coach," said George, with a feeble smile, "nor can I consider it a privation of enjoyment, to be able to assist the distressed," – he hesitated a moment, and a flush gradually stole over his features as he continued, "It is true, Sir, that I prize the good opinion of Miss Henly highly, but I look to another quarter for approbation on such a subject."

"And very justly, George," said the soft voice of Charlotte, "such applause as mine can be but of little moment to one who performs such acts as yours."

The gentlemen were sitting with their faces towards the fire, and had not heard the light step of Miss Henly as she entered the apartment, but both instantly arose and paid their salutations; the invalid by a silent bow, and by handing a chair, and Delafield with many a graceful compliment on her good looks, and divers protestations concerning the pleasure he felt at being permitted to visit at her house. No two things could be more different than the manners of these gentlemen. That of the latter was very highly polished, insinuating, and although far from unpleasantly so, yet slightly artificial; while that of the former was simple, ingenuous, and in the presence of Miss Henly was apt to be at times a little constrained. Charlotte certainly perceived the difference, and she as certainly thought that it was not altogether to the advantage of George Morton. The idea seemed to give her pain, for she showed several little attentions to her old friend, that by their flattering, but unstudied particularity, were adapted to put any man at his ease and assure him of his welcome, still the embarrassment of George did not disappear, but he sat an uneasy listener to the conversation that occurred, as if reluctant to stay, and yet unwilling to depart. After a few observations on the entertainment of the preceding evening, Mr. Delafield continued —

"I was lamenting to Mr. Morton, as you entered, that he should have suffered so much from my want of thought, the day before yesterday; it requires a good constitution to endure exposure – "

"And such I often tell you, George, you do not possess," said Charlotte, kindly and with a little melancholy; "yet you neither seem to regard my warnings on the subject, nor those of any of your friends" —

"There is a warning that I have not disregarded," returned the youth, endeavouring to smile.

"And what is it?" asked Charlotte, struck with the melancholy resignation of his manner.

"That I am not fit company, just now, for hearts as gay as yours and Mr. Delafield's," he returned, and rising, he made a hasty bow and withdrew.

"What can he mean?" said Charlotte, in amazement, "George does not appear well, and latterly his manner is much altered – what can he mean, Mr. Delafield?"

"He is ill," said Delafield, far from feeling quite easy at the evident interest that the lady exhibited; "he is ill, and should be in his bed, instead of attending the morning levees of even Miss Henly."

"Indeed, he is too regardless of his health," said Charlotte in a low tone, fixing her eyes on the grate, where she continued gazing for some time. Every effort of Seymour was made to draw off the attention of the young lady from a subject, that, however melancholy, seemed to possess peculiar charms for her. In this undertaking the gentleman would not have succeeded but for the fortunate appearance of Miss Osgood, who came into the room very opportunely to keep alive the discourse.

"What, tete-a-tete!" exclaimed Maria; "you should discharge your footman, Charlotte, for saying that you were at home. A young lady is never supposed to be at home when she is alone – with a gentleman."

"I shall then know how to understand the servant of Mr. Osgood, when I inquire for his daughter," cried Seymour gayly.

"Ah! Mr. Delafield, it is seldom that I have an opportunity of hearing soft things, for I am never alone with a gentleman in my father's house" —

"And is Mrs. Osgood so rigid?" returned the gentleman; "surely the gravity of her daughter should create more confidence" —

"Most humbly I thank you, Sir," said Maria, courtseying low before she took the chair that he handed; "but it is not the caution of Mrs. Osgood that prevents any solos in her mansion, unless it be on a harp or flute, or any possibility of a tete-a-tete."

"Now you have excited my curiosity to a degree that is painfully unpleasant," said Delafield, "I know you to be too generous not to allay it" —

"Oh! it is nothing more than a magical number, that frightens away all applicants for such a favour, unless indeed it may be such as would not be very likely to be successful were they to apply; and which even would render it physically impossible to have a tender interview within the four walls of the mansion" —

"It is a charmed number, indeed! and is it on the door? is it the number of the house?"

"Oh! not at all – only the number of the family, the baker's dozen, that I mentioned last evening; now in visiting Miss Henly there is no such interruption to be apprehended."

Charlotte could not refrain from smiling at the vivacity of her friend, who, perceiving that her wish to banish the look of care that clouded the brow of the other had vanished, changed the discourse as abruptly as she had introduced it.

"I met George Morton at the door, and chatted with him for several minutes. He appears quite ill, but I know he has gone two miles in the country for his mother this raw day; unless he is more careful of himself, he will ruin his constitution, which is none of the best now."

Maria spoke with feeling, and with a manner that plainly showed that her ordinary levity was assumed, and that she had at the bottom, much better feelings than the trifling intercourse of the world would usually permit her to exhibit. Charlotte did not reply, but her brightening looks once more changed to that pensive softness which so well became her delicate features, and which gave to her countenance an expression such as might be supposed to shadow the glory of angels, when, from their abode of purity and love, they look down with pity on the sorrows of man.

The quick glance of Delafield not only watched, but easily detected, both the rapid transitions and the character of these opposite emotions. Under the sudden influence of passions, that probably will not escape our readers, he could not forbear uttering, in a tone in which pique might have been too apparent.

"Really, Mr. Morton is a happy fellow!"

The blue eyes of Charlotte were turned to the speaker with a look of innocent inquiry, but she continued silent. Maria, however, not only bestowed a glance at the youth from her laughing hazel ones, but found utterance for her tongue also.

"How so?" she asked – "He is not of a strong constitution, not immensely rich, nor over and above – that is, not particularly handsome. Why is he so happy?"

"Ah! I have discovered that a man may be happy without one of those qualifications."

"And miserable who has them all?"

"Nay, nay, Miss Osgood, my experience does not extend so far – I am not quite the puppy you think me."

Maria, in her turn, was silent; but she arose from her seat, and moved with an absent air to a distant part of the room, and for a short time seemed to be particularly occupied in examining the beauties of a port-folio of prints, with every one of which she was perfectly familiar. The conversation was resumed by her friend.

"You have mortified Miss Osgood, Mr. Delafield," said Charlotte; "she is too good natured to judge any one so harshly."

"Is her good nature, in this particular, infectious?" the young man rather whispered than uttered aloud – "Does her friend feel the same indulgence for the infirmities of a frail nature to which she really seems herself hardly to belong?"