It was commonly understood in the town of Rockland that Dudley Venner
had had a great deal of trouble with that daughter of his, so
handsome, yet so peculiar, about whom there were so many strange
stories. There was no end to the tales which were told of her
extraordinary doings. Yet her name was never coupled with that of
any youth or man, until this cousin had provoked remark by his visit;
and even then it was oftener in the shape of wondering conjectures
whether he would dare to make love to her, than in any pretended
knowledge of their relations to each other, that the public tongue
exercised its village-prerogative of tattle.
The more common version of the trouble at the mansion-house was this:
Elsie was not exactly in her right mind. Her temper was singular,
her tastes were anomalous, her habits were lawless, her antipathies
were many and intense, and she was liable to explosions of
ungovernable anger. Some said that was not the worst of it. At
nearly fifteen years old, when she was growing fast, and in an
irritable state of mind and body, she had had a governess placed over
her for whom she had conceived an aversion. It was whispered among a
few who knew more of the family secrets than others, that, worried
and exasperated by the presence and jealous oversight of this person,
Elsie had attempted to get finally rid of her by unlawful means, such
as young girls have been known to employ in their straits, and to
which the sex at all ages has a certain instinctive tendency, in
preference to more palpable instruments for the righting of its
wrongs. At any rate, this governess had been taken suddenly ill, and
the Doctor had been sent for at midnight. Old Sophy had taken her
master into a room apart, and said a few words to him which turned
him as white as a sheet. As soon as he recovered himself, he sent
Sophy out, called in the old Doctor, and gave him some few hints, on
which he acted at once, and had the satisfaction of seeing his
patient out of danger before he left in the morning. It is proper to
say, that, during the following days, the most thorough search was
made in every nook and cranny of those parts of the house which Elsie
chiefly haunted, but nothing was found which might be accused of
having been the intentional cause of the probably accidental sudden
illness of the governess. From this time forward her father was
never easy. Should he keep her apart, or shut her up, for fear of
risk to others, and so lose every chance of restoring her mind to its
healthy tone by kindly influences and intercourse with wholesome
natures? There was no proof, only presumption, as to the agency of
Elsie in the matter referred to. But the doubt was worse, perhaps,
than certainty would have been,--for then he would have known what to
do.
He took the old Doctor as his adviser. The shrewd old man listened
to the father's story, his explanations of possibilities, of
probabilities, of dangers, of hopes. When he had got through, the
Doctor looked him in the face steadily, as if he were saying, Is that
all?
The father's eyes fell. This was not all. There was something at
the bottom of his soul which he could not bear to speak of,--nay,
which, as often as it reared itself through the dark waves of
unworded consciousness into the breathing air of thought, he trod
down as the ruined angels tread down a lost soul, trying to come up
out of the seething sea of torture. Only this one daughter! No!
God never would have ordained such a thing. There was nothing ever
heard of like it; it could not be; she was ill,--she would outgrow
all these singularities; he had had an aunt who was peculiar; he had
heard that hysteric girls showed the strangest forms of moral
obliquity for a time, but came right at last. She would change all
at once, when her health got more firmly settled in the course of her
growth. Are there not rough buds that open into sweet flowers? Are
there not fruits, which, while unripe, are not to be tasted or
endured, which mature into the richest taste and fragrance? In God's
good time she would come to her true nature; her eyes would lose that
frightful, cold glitter; her lips would not feel so cold when she
pressed them against his cheek; and that faint birth-mark, her mother
swooned when she first saw, would fade wholly out,--it was less
marked, surely, now than it used to be!
So Dudley Venner felt, and would have thought, if he had let his
thoughts breathe the air of his soul. But the Doctor read through
words and thoughts and all into the father's consciousness. There
are states of mind which may be shared by two persons in presence of
each other, which remain not only unworded, but unthoughted, if such
a word may be coined for our special need. Such a mutually
interpenetrative consciousness there was between the father and the
old physician. By a common impulse, both of them rose in a
mechanical way and went to the western window, where each started, as
he saw the other's look directed towards the white stone which stood
in the midst of the small plot of green turf.
The Doctor had, for a moment, forgotten himself but he looked up at
the clouds, which were angry, and said, as if speaking of the
weather, "It is dark now, but we hope it will clear up by and by.
There are a great many more clouds than rains, and more rains than
strokes of lightning, and more strokes of lightning than there are
people killed. We must let this girl of ours have her way, as far as
it is safe. Send away this woman she hates, quietly. Get her a
foreigner for a governess, if you can,--one that can dance and sing
and will teach her. In the house old Sophy will watch her best. Out
of it you must trust her, I am afraid,--for she will not be followed
round, and she is in less danger than you think. If she wanders at
night, find her, if you can; the woods are not absolutely safe. If
she will be friendly with any young people, have them to see her,--
young men especially. She will not love any one easily, perhaps not
at all; yet love would be more like to bring her right than anything
else. If any young person seems in danger of falling in love with
her, send him to me for counsel."
Dry, hard advice, but given from a kind hewn, with a moist eye, and
in tones which tried to be cheerful and were full of sympathy. This
advice was the key to the more than indulgent treatment which, as we
have seen, the girl had received from her father and all about her.
The old Doctor often came in, in the kindest, most natural sort of
way, got into pleasant relations with Elsie by always treating her in
the same easy manner as at the great party, encouraging all her
harmless fancies, and rarely reminding her that he was a professional
adviser, except when she came out of her own accord, as in the talk
they had at the party, telling him of some wild trick she had been
playing.
"Let her go to the girls' school, by all means," said the Doctor,
when she had begun to talk about it. "Possibly she may take to some
of the girls or of the teachers. Anything to interest her.
Friendship, love, religion, whatever will set her nature at work. We
must have headway on, or there will be no piloting her. Action first
of all, and then we will see what to do with it."
So, when Cousin Richard came along, the Doctor, though he did not
like his looks any too well, told her father to encourage his staying
for a time. If she liked him, it was good; if she only tolerated
him, it was better than nothing.
"You know something about that nephew of yours, during these last
years, I suppose?" the Doctor said. "Looks as if he had seen life.
Has a scar that was made by a sword-cut, and a white spot on the side
of his neck that looks like a bullet-mark. I think he has been what
folks call a 'hard customer.'"
Dudley Venner owned that he had heard little or nothing of him of
late years. He had invited himself, and of course it would not be
decent not to receive him as a relative. He thought Elsie rather
liked having him about the house for a while. She was very
capricious,--acted as if she fancied him one day and disliked him the
next. He did not know,--but sometimes thought that this nephew of
his might take a serious liking to Elsie. What should he do about
it, if it turned out so?
The Doctor lifted his eyebrows a little. He thought there was no
fear. Elsie was naturally what they call a man-hater, and there was
very little danger of any sudden passion springing up between two
such young persons. Let him stay awhile; it gives her something to
think about. So he stayed awhile, as we have seen.
The more Mr. Richard became acquainted with the family,--that is,
with the two persons of whom it consisted,--the more favorably the
idea of a permanent residence in the mansion-house seemed to impress
him. The estate was large,--hundreds of acres, with woodlands and
meadows of great value. The father and daughter had been living
quietly, and there could not be a doubt that the property which came
through the Dudleys must have largely increased of late years. It
was evident enough that they had an abundant income, from the way in
which Elsie's caprices were indulged. She had horses and carriages
to suit herself; she sent to the great city for everything she wanted
in the way of dress. Even her diamonds--and the young man knew
something about these gems--must be of considerable value; and yet
she wore them carelessly, as it pleased her fancy. She had precious
old laces, too, almost worth their weight in diamonds; laces which
had been snatched from altars in ancient Spanish cathedrals during
the wars, and which it would not be safe to leave a duchess alone
with for ten minutes. The old house was fat with the deposits of
rich generations which had gone before. The famous "golden" fire-set
was a purchase of one of the family who had been in France during the
Revolution, and must have come from a princely palace, if not from
one of the royal residences. As for silver, the iron closet which
had been made in the dining-room wall was running over with it: tea-
kettles, coffee-pots, heavy-lidded tankards, chafing-dishes, punch-
bowls, all that all the Dudleys had ever used, from the caudle-cup
which used to be handed round the young mother's chamber, and the
porringer from which children scooped their bread-and-milk with
spoons as solid as ingots, to that ominous vessel, on the upper
shelf, far back in the dark, with a spout like a slender italic S,
out of which the sick and dying, all along the last century, and
since, had taken the last drops that passed their lips. Without
being much of a scholar, Dick could see well enough, too, that the
books in the library had been ordered from the great London houses,
whose imprint they bore, by persons who knew what was best and meant
to have it. A man does not require much learning to feel pretty
sure, when he takes one of those solid, smooth, velvet-leaved
quartos, say a Baskerville Addison, for instance, bound in red
morocco, with a margin of gold as rich as the embroidery of a
prince's collar, as Vandyck drew it,--he need not know much to feel
pretty sure that a score or two of shelves full of such books mean
that it took a long purse, as well as a literary taste, to bring them
together.
To all these attractions the mind of this thoughtful young gentleman
may be said to have been fully open. He did not disguise from
himself, however, that there were a number of drawbacks in the way of
his becoming established as the heir of the Dudley mansion-house and
fortune. In the first place, Cousin Elsie was, unquestionably, very
piquant, very handsome, game as a hawk, and hard to please, which
made her worth trying for. But then there was something about Cousin
Elsie,--(the small, white scars began stinging, as he said this to
himself, and he pushed his sleeve up to look at them)--there was
something about Cousin Elsie he couldn't make out. What was the
matter with her eyes, that they sucked your life out of you in that
strange way? What did she always wear a necklace for? Had she some
such love-token on her neck as the old Don's revolver had left on
his? How safe would anybody feel to live with her? Besides, her
father would last forever, if he was left to himself. And he may
take it into his head to marry again. That would be pleasant!
So talked Cousin Richard to himself, in the calm of the night and in
the tranquillity of his own soul. There was much to be said on both
sides. It was a balance to be struck after the two columns were
added up. He struck the balance, and came to the conclusion that he
would fall in love with Elsie Venner.
The intelligent reader will not confound this matured and serious
intention of falling in love with the young lady with that mere
impulse of the moment before mentioned as an instance of making love.
On the contrary, the moment Mr. Richard had made up his mind that he
should fall in love with Elsie, he began to be more reserved with
her, and to try to make friends in other quarters. Sensible men, you
know, care very little what a girl's present fancy is. The question
is: Who manages her, and how can you get at that person or those
persons? Her foolish little sentiments are all very well in their
way; but business is business, and we can't stop for such trifles.
The old political wire-pullers never go near the man they want to
gain, if they can help it; they find out who his intimates and
managers are, and work through them. Always handle any positively
electrical body, whether it is charged with passion or power, with
some non-conductor between you and it, not with your naked hands.---
The above were some of the young gentleman's working axioms; and he
proceeded to act in accordance with them.
He began by paying his court more assiduously to his uncle. It was
not very hard to ingratiate himself in that quarter; for his manners
were insinuating, and his precocious experience of life made him
entertaining. The old neglected billiard--room was soon put in
order, and Dick, who was a magnificent player, had a series of games
with his uncle, in which, singularly enough, he was beaten, though
his antagonist had been out of play for years. He evinced a profound
interest in the family history, insisted on having the details of its
early alliances, and professed a great pride in it, which he had
inherited from his father, who, though he had allied himself with the
daughter of an alien race, had yet chosen one with the real azure
blood in her veins, as proud as if she had Castile and Aragon for her
dower and the Cid for her grand-papa. He also asked a great deal of
advice, such as inexperienced young persons are in need of, and
listened to it with due reverence.
It is not very strange that uncle Dudley took a kinder view of his
nephew than the Judge, who thought he could read a questionable
history in his face,--or the old Doctor, who knew men's temperaments
and organizations pretty well, and had his prejudices about races,
and could tell an old sword-cut and a ballet-mark in two seconds from
a scar got by falling against the fender, or a mark left by king's
evil. He could not be expected to share our own prejudices; for he
had heard nothing of the wild youth's adventures, or his scamper over
the Pampas at short notice. So, then, "Richard Venner, Esquire,
guest of Dudley Venner, Esquire, at his elegant mansion," prolonged
his visit until his presence became something like a matter of habit,
and the neighbors began to think that the fine old house would be
illuminated before long for a grand marriage.
He had done pretty well with the father: the next thing was to gain
over the nurse. Old Sophy was as cunning as a red fox or a gray
woodchuck. She had nothing in the world to do but to watch Elsie;
she had nothing to care for but this girl and her father. She had
never liked Dick too well; for he used to make faces at her and tease
her when he was a boy, and now he was a man there was something about
him.---she could not tell what--that made her suspicious of him. It
was no small matter to get her over to his side.
The jet-black Africans know that gold never looks so well as on the
foil of their dark skins. Dick found in his trunk a string of gold
beads, such as are manufactured in some of our cities, which he had
brought from the gold region of Chili,--so he said,--for the express
purpose of giving them to old Sophy. These Africans, too, have a
perfect passion for gay-colored clothing; being condemned by Nature,
as it were, to a perpetual mourning-suit, they love to enliven it
with all sorts of variegated stuffs of sprightly patterns, aflame
with red and yellow. The considerate young man had remembered this,
too, and brought home for Sophy some handkerchiefs of rainbow hues,
which had been strangely overlooked till now, at the bottom of one of
his trunks. Old Sophy took his gifts, but kept her black eyes open
and watched every movement of the young people all the more closely.
It was through her that the father had always known most of the
actions and tendencies of his daughter.
In the mean time the strange adventure on The Mountain had brought
the young master into new relations with Elsie. She had led him out
of, danger; perhaps saved him from death by the strange power she
exerted. He was grateful, and yet shuddered at the recollection of
the whole scene. In his dreams he was pursued by the glare of cold
glittering eyes, whether they were in the head of a woman or of a
reptile he could not always tell, the images had so run together.
But he could not help seeing that the eyes of the young girl had been
often, very often, turned upon him when he had been looking away, and
fell as his own glance met them. Helen Darley told him very plainly
that this girl was thinking about him more than about her book. Dick
Venner found she was getting more constant in her attendance at
school. He learned, on inquiry, that there was a new master, a
handsome young man. The handsome young man would not have liked the
look that, came over Dick's face when he heard this fact mentioned.
In short, everything was getting tangled up together, and there would
be no chance of disentangling the threads in this chapter.