PRINCE ARTHUR.
It was not in nature, particularly in young man-nature, that such a
creature as Julia should ripen into womanhood without lovers. In her
little circle of Newbury, boys and girls loved her much alike, and
with few shades of difference on account of sex. No youth of them
dreamed of becoming her suitor; not even Barton, whom I have sketched
in vain, if it is not apparent that it would not have been over
presumption in him, to dream of anything.
Of the numerous, and more or less accomplished young men from
other places, who had met and admired her, two had somewhat singled
themselves out, as her admirers, both of whom, I fear, had a good way
passed the pleasant, though dangerous, line of admiration.
Young King, of Ravenna, a frank, handsome, high-spirited youth, had
for a long time been at no pains to conceal his partiality; so far
from that, he had sought many occasions to evince in a modest, manly
way, his devotion. His observing sister, Julia's warm and admiring
friend, had in vain looked wise, lifted her finger, and shaken her
warning head at him. He would inevitably have committed himself,
had not the high-souled and generous Julia, by her frank, ingenuous
woman's way with him, made him see and feel in time the uselessness of
a more ardent pursuit; and so content himself with the real luxury of
her friendship. The peril to him was great, and if for a time he was
not unhappy, he had a grave and serious mood, that lasted many months.
She had a real woman's warm, unselfish friendship for him, which
has much of the sweetness and all the purity and unselfishness of a
sister's love; and all unconscious as she seemed, that he could wish
for more or other, she succeeded in placing him in the position of a
devoted and trusted friend.
Thorndyke, the fourth or fifth of aristocratic generations, of a good
old colonial strain, elegant to a fault, and refined to uselessness,
of tastes and pursuits that took him out of the ordinary atmosphere;
languid more for the want of a spur, than from lack of nerve and
ability; and unambitious for want of an object, rather than from want
of power to climb, was really smothered by the softness and luxury of
his surroundings, rather than reduced by the poverty and feebleness of
his nature; had really the elements of manly strength and elevation,
and had misfortune or poverty fallen upon him, early, he would
undoubtedly have developed into a man of the higher type, like the
first generations of his family.
Like every man he was struck as much as he could be, with Julia, and
when he saw her in the rudeness of pioneer surroundings, he began
by pitying her, and finally ended by pitying himself. When it first
occurred to him to carry her out of the woods, to the actual world,
and real human life, he was not a little surprised. She was not born
in Boston, nor did her father's family date back to the flood, but her
mother's did. Indeed, that came over with it.
In revolving this grave matter, the only factors to be considered,
were Mr. Thorndyke's own judgment, taste and inclinations, and Julia
has matured in these pages, to a small purpose, or Mr. T. was much
less a man than I have supposed, if these parties should not finally
unite in consenting to the alliance. Of course, Miss Julia could be
had, both of herself and parents, for the asking. But his fastidious
notions could alone be satisfied with a gentlemanly course of
gradually warming and more devoted attentions, with all the forms and
observances, so far as the disadvantages of her surroundings would
permit. It was some time in the last summer, that he had made up a
definite judgment in the premises under which he commenced his lambent
action. During the autumn he often met King at her father's, and the
young men occasionally made up small parties with Julia and Nell or
some other young ladies for rides and excursions. Towards winter, King
was less at Newbury; and as winter approached, Mr. Thorndyke seemed
left to monopolize the time and society of Julia. So gracious, frank
and open was her invariable manner to him, that he could not for a
moment doubt that after a gentlemanly lapse of time, and a course of
rides, calls, walks and teas, he might in his own way dispose of the
matter.
His splendid gray, "West Wind," was no mean companion for Prince, and
many a gallop they had together, and Thorndyke was a gentlemanly rider
and drove well, and during the winter he often drove Julia out in a
single sleigh.
In a moment of weakness it occurred to him that West Wind and Prince
would go well in double harness, and he proposed to Julia to match
them for a drive.
"What!" exclaimed that young lady, "put Prince in harness? make a
draught horse of him?"
"With West Wind--certainly. Why not?"
"Because I don't choose it. There is but one man in the world who
shall drive Prince, and I am sure he will not want to."
"I presume Judge Markham don't care to drive him?"
"I presume he don't;" laughing and blushing.
That was the end of that, and not overly pleasing to the gentleman. It
was apparent, that she was disinclined to match the horses.
And March was coming, and Julia was sweet and arch and gracious, and
at times as he came to know her better, he thought a little grave and
pensive. This was certainly a good sign; and somehow, he found himself
now often watching and calculating the signs, and somehow again they
did not seem to deepen or change, or indicate much. He could not on
the whole convince himself that he had made much progress, except that
he should ask her at some time and she would accept him, and he
was certainly approaching that time. The matter in hand had become
absorbing--very: and he knew he was very much interested in it; and
the laugh of the beautiful girl was as rich, musical and gay as ever,
though he some how fancied, that it was a little less frequent; and
once or twice something had been dropped about some day early in
April, at which there was a little flutter in Julia. What could it be?
did she think he was slow? He would speak, and put an end to it. But
he didn't, and somehow he could not. He might do it any day; but did
not. At any event, before that April, something should be asked and
answered--but how answered?
The sleigh was left under cover, the roads hardened in the March sun
and wind, and several horseback excursions had been made. Toward the
close of the month, on their return one day, Thorndyke, who had been
unusually silent, suddenly asked Julia if she would be at leisure
that evening, at about eight; and might he call? She answered that she
would be at home, and as he knew, he was quite at liberty to call. He
said that he had something quite particular which he wished to say to
her, and that of course she must know what it was.
"Indeed! If I must know what it is, you must, by the same rule, know
what I will say in reply. Let us consider the thing said and answered,
and then your business call can be one of pleasure."
"I had hoped that it might possibly be one of pleasure."
The girl, looked grave for a moment, and then turning in her best
manner to her escort--
"Mr. Thorndyke, I think I had better tell you the little story of my
horse. If we ride slow, I will have time before we reach the gate."
With a little increase of color, "It is not much of a story, but you
may see a little moral in it."
"Certainly, I shall be glad to hear it. No doubt it will interest me."
"You see his name is Prince."
"I hear that is his name."
"You will see presently that is not his whole name."
"Silvertail?"
"Silver-sticks! Please attend, sir. His name is Prince Arthur."
"Named after a gentleman who lived a few years ago; who dined off 'a
table round,' and who was thought to be unfortunate in his lady."
"No, sir. He was named for a man who may have been called after that
personage; and whose life shows that the old legend may have been
true, and this Arthur is not unfortunate in his lady," with a
softening voice, and deepening blush on her averted face.
"Have you never heard the story of the lost girl? who less than a year
ago, bewildered and distracted, wandered away into the endless woods,
in the night, mid darkness and storm; and who, o'ercome with fright
and weariness and cold, lay down to die, and was covered over with
snow; and that a young man with strength and courage, was conducted by
God to her rescue, and carried her over an icy stream, and revived and
restored her to her father and mother. Did you ever hear of that?" Her
voice was low, deep, and earnest. He bowed.
"My father gave him this horse, and he gave him to me, and I gave him
that young man's name. Prince is a prince among horses, and that youth
is a prince among men," proudly, and with increasing color.
"I thought that young man's name was Bart Ridgeley," very much
disgusted.
"Arthur Barton Ridgeley. Prince bears his first name, and he bears
me;" lowering her voice and turning away.
"A very pleasant arrangement, no doubt," querulously.
"Very pleasant to me," very sweetly.
"It seems to me I have heard something else about this Arthur Barton
Ridgeley, Esq.; and not quite so much to his credit." Oh dear! But
then he was hardly responsible.
"I presume you have. And you heard it with the same ears with which
you hear everything disconnected with your precious self. Were their
acuteness equal to their length, you would also have heard, that in
this, as in everything else, he was true and noble." The voice was
shaken a little by two or three emotions, and tears sprang to her eyes
and dried there.
When Thorndyke recovered, they had reached Judge Markham's gate; and
springing unaided from her saddle, Julia turned to him with all her
grace and graciousness fully restored.
"Many thanks for your escort, Mr. Thorndyke. I shall expect you at
eight."
At about that hour, a boy from Parker's brought her the following
note:
"THURSDAY EVENING.
"_Miss Markham_:--Pardon, if you can, my rudeness of this afternoon.
Kindly remember the severity of my punishment. Believe me capable of
appreciating a heroic act; and the womanly devotion that can alone
reward it. From my heart, I congratulate you.
"With the profoundest respect.
"W. THORNDYKE."
As she read, a softer light, almost a mist, came into the eyes of the
young girl.
"I fear I have done this man a real injustice."