Vassall Morton. Francis ParkmanЧитать онлайн книгу.
singular!" murmured Mrs. Primrose.
Morton was walking slowly up the hall, conversing with an odd-looking couple—a heavy, thick set man, in the fantastic finery of a Broadway swell, and a woman of five feet ten, thin and gaunt, with a yellow complexion, and a pair of fierce, glittering eyes, like an Indian squaw in ill humor. She was gorgeous in silk, brocade, and diamonds, and her huge, gloveless, bony fingers sparkled with jewelry. Her husband, on his part, displayed a mighty breastpin, in the shape of a war horse rampant, in diamond frostwork.
"Mr. Meredith," murmured the horrified Mrs. Primrose, "pray who are those persons?"
"Aborigines from Red River. Mr. and Mrs. Major Orson, of Natchitoches. He is a speculator, I believe, of more wealth than reputation."
"And are they friends of Mr. Morton?"
"O, Morton is a student of humanity. He met them at the tea table, and thinks them remarkable specimens of natural history."
Mrs. Primrose did not hear this explanation. The trio had now approached within a few yards; and her whole attention was absorbed in listening to the high, penetrating voice of the female ogre.
"There's one great and glorious thing about Natchitoches," remarked Mrs. Orson.
"What's that?" asked Morton.
"You can get every thing there to eat that heart can wish."
"That's a fact," said the major; "there ain't no discount on that."
"Game, and fish, and fruit, and vegetables," pursued the lady; "any thing and every thing. The north can't compete with it, I tell you. There's the pompano! O, my! Did you ever eat a pompano?"
"Never."
"Then you have got something to look forward to. That's a fish that is a fish. Why, sir, you can begin at the tail, and eat him clean away to the head, and the bones is just like marrow! It makes my mouth water to think of it!"
"O, hush!" cried the major, with sympathetic emotion.
"And then the fruit! Think of the peaches! They beat your nasty little northern peaches all holler!"
"Yes," added the major, and to have your own boys to shin up the tree and throw 'em down to you; and to sit under the shade all the afternoon eating 'em;—that's the way to live!"
"It's all the little niggers is good for, just to pick fruit."
"Troublesome animals, I should think," observed Morton.
"Well, they be; and the growed-up niggers ain't much better. To think of that girl, Cynthy, major. My! wasn't she one of 'em! The major is, out of all account, too tender to his niggers, and if it warn't for me, they wouldn't get a speck of justice done. Why, what are all those folks moving for? My! supper's ready. I'll go in with this gentleman, major, and you may foller with any pretty gal that you can get to come with you. I ain't a jealous woman"—turning to Morton—"I let the major do pretty much what he pleases."
Mrs. Primrose drew a deep breath. "There must be"—thus she communed with herself—"something essentially vulgar in the mind of that young man, if he can neglect a cultivated and refined young lady like Constance, and at the same time find pleasure in the conversation of a person like that." And she considered within herself whether it would not be best to warn Constance not to encourage any advances which he might in future make. On second thoughts, reflecting that his position was unquestionable, his wealth great, and that she had never heard any thing against his morals, she determined to suspend all action for the present, keeping a close watch, meanwhile, on his behavior.
While Morton was thus brought to the bar in the matronly breast of Mrs. Primrose, while the jury were bringing in a verdict of guilty, joined to a recommendation to mercy, the unconscious young man was leading his companion to the supper room; where, furnishing her with a huge plate of oysters, he left her in perfect contentment.
Not long after, he encountered Meredith.
"How do you like your friend in the diamonds?"
"She's a superb specimen; about as civilized, with all her jewelry, as a Pawnee squaw. She has a vein of womanhood, though. I saw her, in the tea room, fondle a kitten whose foot had been trodden upon, as tenderly as if it had been a child."
"If you had not been so busy with her, you would have met a person much better worth your time."
"Who's that?"
"Miss Fanny Euston."
"Do you mean that she is here?"
"She was here—in that room adjoining. But she has gone; you'll see nothing of her to-night."
"Will not her being here induce you to stay?"
The question, as he spoke it, had a sound of frankness; but the shameful truth must be confessed, that, in spite of his friendship for Meredith, and his admiration of Miss Leslie, he was a little jealous of his friend.
"No," replied Meredith, "it's out of the question. I must be off the day after to-morrow. By the way, you never told me how you liked Miss Euston."
"A rough diamond, needing nothing but to be cut, polished, and set!"
"It's too late, I think, for that. The polishing should have begun before eighteen. She is quite unformed, and quite unconscious of being so. I'll leave you here to fall in love with her, if you like; but if you do, colonel, you'll be a good deal younger than I take you for."
There was something in his friend's tone which led Morton half to suspect the truth. Meredith had himself a penchant for Miss Fanny Euston, held in abeyance by a very lively perception of her faults.
CHAPTER XII.
Will you woo this wildcat?—Katharine and Petruchio.
Meredith went away, as he had proposed, leaving Morton at New Baden. The latter soon came to the opinion that he had never yet found so interesting a subject of psychological observation as that afforded him in the person of his relative, Miss Euston. She seemed to him the most wayward of mortals; yet in the midst of this lawlessness, generous instincts were constantly betraying themselves, and a certain native grace, a charm of womanhood, followed her wildest caprices. She often gave great offence by her brusqueries; yet those who best knew her were commonly her ardent friends.
Mrs. Primrose looked upon her with her most profound and unqualified disapprobation. Her daughter copied her sentiments; while Stubb thought her an outside barbarian of the most alarming character. Fanny Euston's perceptions were very acute. She saw the effect she had produced, and seemed to take peculiar delight in aggravating it, and shocking the prejudices of her critics still more.
One afternoon, Miss Primrose, Mr. Stubb, Fanny Euston, Morton, and several others, set out on a horseback excursion, matronized by Mrs. Primrose. At a few miles from New Baden, Morton found himself riding at his cousin's side, a little behind the rest.
"Do you know, I came this morning, to ask you to join us on our walk to Elk Ridge."
"Ah, I am sorry I was not there."
"You were there; but you seemed so deep in Ivanhoe, or some other of your favorites, that I had no heart to interrupt you."
"But that was quite absurd. I should like to have gone."
"I am curious to know what book you were so busy with. Something of Scott's—was it not?"
"Not precisely."
"Nor one of the new novels," pursued Morton—"those are not after your taste."
"Not at all; they are all full of some grand reform or philanthropic scheme, or the sorrows of some destitute, uninteresting