The Last of the Foresters Part 29

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Stop!" said the young man, laughing with his easy nonchalance; "tell me if we are rivals."

"Anan?" said Verty.

"Are you in love with her? Honor bright now, my dear fellow?"

"No," said Verty, drawn, he did not know how, toward the laughing young man; "no, not with--Miss f.a.n.n.y."

"Ah, ah!--then with whom? Not the lovely Sallianna--the admirer of nature? Faith! you're too good-looking a fellow to throw yourself away on such a simpering old maid. By Jove! my dear friend, and new acquaintance, I like you! Let us be friends. My name's Ralph Ashley--I'm f.a.n.n.y's cousin. Come! confidence for confidence!"

Verty smiled.

"My name is Verty," he said; "I havn't any other--I'm an Indian."

"An Indian!"

"Yes."

"Is it possible?"

Verty nodded.

"Why, you are an elegant cavalier, or the devil take it! I'm just from Williamsburg--from the college there; and I never saw a finer _seigneur_ than yourself, friend Verty. An Indian!"

"That's all," said Verty; "the new clothes change me. I got 'em at O'Brallaghan's."

"O'Brallaghan's? The rascal! to sell my suit! That accounts for all!

But I don't complain of you. On the contrary, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. Have you been up there?--I suppose you have?"

And the young man pointed toward the Bower of Nature.

"Yes," said Verty.

"Visiting?"

"Yes--Redbud."

"Pretty little Miss Summers?"

Verty heaved a profound sigh, and said, "Yes."

The young man shook his head.

"Take care, my dear fellow," he said, with a wise air, "I saw her in town the other morning, and I consider her dangerous. She would not be dangerous to me; I am an old bird among the charming young damsels of this wicked world, and, consequently, not to be caught by chaff--such chaff as brilliant eyes, and rosy-cheeks, and smiles; but, without being critical, my dear friend, I may be permitted to observe, that you look confiding. Take care--it is the advice of a friend. Come and see me at Bousch's tavern where I am staying, if my visnomy has made a favorable impression--Ah! there's f.a.n.n.y! I must fly to her--the charming infant."

And the young man gave a farewell nod to Verty, and went on singing, and making signs to the distant f.a.n.n.y.

Verty gazed after him for a moment; then heaving another sigh much more profound than any which had yet issued from his lips, went slowly on toward the town--his shoulders drooping, his arms hanging down, his eyes intently engaged in staring vacancy out of countenance. If we are asked how it happened that the merry, joyous Verty, whose face was before all suns.h.i.+ne, now resembled n.o.body so much as some young and handsome Don Quixote, reflecting on the obduracy of his Toboso Dulcinea, we can only reply, that Verty was in love, and had not prospered lately--that is to say, on that particular day, in his suit; and, in consequence, felt as if the world no longer held any more joy or light for him, forever.

With that bad taste which characterizes the victims of this delusion, he could not consent to supply the place of the chosen object of his love with any other image; and even regarded the cla.s.sic and romantic Miss Sallianna as wholly unworthy to supplant Redbud in his affections. Youth is proverbially unreasonable and fastidious on these subjects, and Verty, with the true folly of a young man, could not discern in Miss Sallianna those thousand graces and attractions, linguistic, philosophical, historical and scientific, which made her so far superior to the child with whom he had played, and committed the folly of falling in love with. So he went along sighing, with his arms hanging down, as we have said, and his shoulders drooping; and in this melancholy guise, reached the office of Judge Rushton.

He found Mr. Roundjacket still driving away with his pen, only stopping at intervals to flourish his ruler, or to cast an affectionate glance upon the MS. of his great poem, which, gracefully tied with red tape arranged in a magnificent bow, lay by him on the desk.

On Verty's entrance the poet raised his head, and looked at him curiously.

"Well, my fine fellow," he said, "what luck in your wooing? You look as wo-begone as the individual who drew Priam's curtain at the dead of night. Come! my young savage, why are you so sad?"

Verty sat down, murmuring something.

"Speak out!" said Mr. Roundjacket, wiping his pen.

"I'm not very sad," Verty replied, looking perfectly disconsolate--"what made you think so, Mr. Roundjacket?"

"Your physiognomy, my young friend. Are you happy with such a face as that?'

"Such a face?"

"Yes; I tell you that you look as if you had just parted with all your hopes--as if some adverse fate had deprived you of the privilege of living in this temple of Thespis and the muses. You could not look more doleful if I had threatened never to read any more of my great poem to you."

"Couldn't?" said Verty, listlessly.

"No."

The young man only replied with a sigh.

"There it is--you are groaning. Come; have you quarreled with your mistress?"

Verty colored, and his head sank.

"Please don't ask me, sir," he said; "I have not been very happy to-day--everything has gone wrong. I had better get to my work, sir,--I may forget it."

And with a look of profound discouragement, which seemed to be reflected in the sympathizing face of Longears, who had stretched himself at his master's feet and now lay gazing at him, Verty opened the record he had been copying, and began to write.

Roundjacket looked at him for a moment in silence, and then, with an expression of affection and pity, which made his grotesque face absolutely handsome, muttered something to himself, and followed Verty's example.

When Roundjacket commenced writing, he did so with the regularity and accuracy of a machine which is set in motion by the turning of a crank, and goes on until it is stopped. This was the case on the present occasion, and Verty seemed as earnestly engaged in his own particular task. But appearances are deceptive--Indian nature will not take the curb like Anglo-Saxon--and a glance over Verty's shoulders will reveal the species of occupation which he became engaged in after finis.h.i.+ng ten lines of the law paper.

He was tracing with melancholy interest a picture upon the sheet beneath his pen; and this was a lovely little design of a young girl, with smiling lips, kind, tender eyes, and cheeks which were round and beautiful with mirth. With a stroke of the pen Verty added the waving hair, brushed back _a la Pompadour_ the foam of lace around the neck, and the golden drop in the little ear. Redbud looked at you from the paper, with her modest eyes and smiles--and for a moment Verty gazed at the creation of his pencil, sighing mournfully.

Then, with a deeper sigh than before, he drew beneath this another sketch--the same head, but very different. The eyes now were cold and half closed--the lips were close together, and seemed almost disdainful--and as the gentle bending forward in the first design was full of pleasant _abandon_ and graceful kindness, so the head in the present sketch had that erect and frigid carriage which indicates displeasure.

Verty covered his eyes with his hand, and leaning down upon the desk, was silent and motionless, except that a stifled sigh would at times issue from his lips, a sad heaving of his breast indicate the nature of his thoughts.

Longears rose, and coming to his master, wagged his tail, and asked, with his mute but intelligent glance, what had happened.