YOUNG LOVE.
Have you been out some starry night,
And found it joy to bend
Your eyes to one particular light
Till it became a friend?
And then so loved that glistening spot,
That whether it were far,
Or more, or less, it mattered not--
It still was your own star?
Thus, and thus only, can you know
How I, even lowly I,
Can live in love, though set so low,
And my lady-love no high!
--_Richard Monckton Milnes_.
Ishmael's improvement was marked and rapid; both as to his bodily and
mental growth and progress. His happiness in his studies; his regular
morning and evening walks to and from school; his abundant and
nutritious noontide meals with the young Middletons; even his
wood-cutting at the hut; his whole manner of life, in fact, had tended
to promote the best development of his physical organization. He grew
taller, stronger, and broader-shouldered; he held himself erect, and
his pale complexion cleared and became fair. He no longer ate with a
canine rapacity; his appetite was moderate, and his habits temperate,
because his body was well nourished and his health was sound.
His mental progress was quite equal to his bodily growth. He quickly
mastered the elementary branches of education, and was initiated into
the rudiments of Latin, Greek, and mathematics. He soon overtook the two
Burghes and was placed in the same class with them and with John and
James Middleton--Mr. Middleton's second and third sons. When he entered
the class, of course he was placed at the foot; but he first got above
Ben Burghe, and then above Alfred Burghe, and he was evidently resolved
to remain above them, and to watch for an opportunity for getting above
James and John Middleton, who were equally resolved that no such
opportunity should be afforded him. This was a generous emulation
encouraged by Mr. Middleton, who was accustomed to say, laughingly, to
his boys:
"Take care, my sons! You know Ishmael is a dead shot! Let him once bring
you down, and you will never get up again!"
And to Ishmael:
"Persevere, my lad! Some fine day you will catch them tripping, and take
a step higher in the class." And he declared to Mrs. Middleton that his
own sons had never progressed so rapidly in their studies as now that
they had found in Ishmael Worth a worthy competitor to spur them on.
Upon that very account, he said, the boy was invaluable in the school.
Well, John and James had all Ishmael's industry and ambition, but they
had not his genius! consequently they were soon distanced in the race by
our boy. Ishmael got above James, and kept his place; then he got above
John, at the head of the class, and kept that place also; and finally he
got so far ahead of all his classmates that, not to retard his progress,
Mr. Middleton felt obliged to advance him a step higher and place him
beside Walter who, up to this time, had stood alone, unapproached and
unapproachable, at the head of the school.
John and James, being generous rivals, saw this well-merited advancement
without "envy, hatred or malice"; but to Alfred ind Benjamin Burghe it
was as gall and wormwood.
Walter was, of course, as yet much in advance of Ishmael; but, in
placing the boys together, Mr. Middleton had said:
"Now, Walter, you are about to be put upon your very best mettle.
Ishmael will certainly overtake you, and if you are not very careful he
will soon surpass you."
The noble boy laughed as he replied:
"After what I have seen of Ishmael for the last two or three years,
father, I dare not make any promises! I think I am a fair match for most
youths of my age; and I should not mind competing with industry alone,
or talent alone, or with a moderate amount of both united in one boy;
but, really, when it comes to competing with invincible genius combined
with indomitable perseverence, I do not enter into the contest with any
very sanguine hopes of success."
The youth's previsions proved true. Before the year was out Ishmael
stood by his side, his equal, and bidding fair to become his superior.
Mr. Middleton had too much magnanimity to feel any little paternal
jealousy on this account. He knew that his own son was highly gifted in
moral and intellectual endowments, and he was satisfied; and if Ishmael
Worth was even his son's superior in these respects, the generous man
only rejoiced the more in contemplating the higher excellence.
Commodore Burghe was also proud of his protégé. He was not very well
pleased that his own sons were eclipsed by the brighter talents of the
peasant boy; but he only shrugged his shoulders as he said:
"You know the Bible says that 'gifts are divers,' my friend. Well, my
two boys will never be brilliant scholars, that is certain; but I hope,
for that very reason, Alf may make the braver soldier and Ben the bolder
sailor." And having laid this flattering unction to his soul, the old
man felt no malice against our boy for outshining his own sons.
Not so the Burghe boys themselves. Their natures were essentially low;
and this low nature betrayed itself in their very faces, forms, and
manners. They were short and thickset, with bull necks, bullet heads,
shocks of thick black hair, low foreheads, large mouths, dark
complexions, and sullen expressions. They were very much alike in person
and in character. The only difference being that Alf was the bigger and
the wickeder and Ben the smaller and the weaker.
Against Ishmael they had many grudges, the least of which was cause
enough with them for lifelong malice. First, on that memorable occasion
of the robbed carriage, he had exposed their theft and their falsehood.
Secondly, he had had the good luck to save their lives and win
everlasting renown for the brave act; and this, to churlish, thankless,
and insolent natures like theirs, was the greater offense of the two;
and now he had had the unpardonable impudence to eclipse them in the
school. He! the object of their father's bounty, as they called him.
They lost no opportunity of sneering at him whenever they dared to do
so.
Ishmael Worth could very well afford to practice forbearance towards
these ill-conditioned lads. He was no longer the poor, sickly, and
self-doubting child he had been but a year previous. Though still
delicate as to his physique, it was with an elegant, refined rather than
a feeble and sickly delicacy. He grew very much like his father, who was
one of the handsomest men of his day; but it was from his mother that he
derived his sweet voice and his beautiful peculiarity of smiling only
with his eyes. His school-life had, besides, taught him more than book
learning; it had taught him self-knowledge. He had been forced to
measure himself with others, and find out his relative moral and
intellectual standing. His success at school, and the appreciation he
received from others, had endowed him with a self-respect and confidence
easily noticeable in the modest dignity and grace of his air and manner.
In these respects also his deportment formed a favorable contrast to the
shame-faced, half-sullen, and half-defiant behavior of the Burghes.
These boys were the only enemies Ishmael possessed in the school; his
sweetness of spirit had, on the contrary, made him many friends. He was
ever ready to do any kindness to anyone; to give up his own pleasure for
the convenience of others; to help forward a backward pupil, or to
enlighten a dull one. This goodness gained him grateful partisans among
the boys; but he had, also, disinterested ones among the girls.
Claudia and Beatrice were his self-constituted little lady-patronesses.
The Burghes did not dare to sneer at Ishmael's humble position in their
presence. For, upon the very first occasion that Alfred had ventured a
sarcasm at the expense of Ishmael in her hearing, Claudia had so shamed
him for insulting a youth to whose bravery he was indebted for his life,
that even Master Alfred had had the grace to blush, and ever afterward
had avoided exposing himself to a similar scorching.
In this little world of the schoolroom there was a little unconscious
drama beginning to be performed.
I said that Claudia and Beatrice had constituted themselves the little
lady-patronesses of the poor boy. But there was a difference in their
manner towards their protégé.
The dark-eyed, dark-haired, imperious young heiress patronized him in a
right royal manner, trotting him out, as it were, for the inspection of
her friends, and calling their attention to his merits--so surprising in
a boy of his station; very much, I say, as she would have exhibited the
accomplishments of her dog, Fido, so wonderful in a brute! very much,
ah! as duchesses patronize promising young poets.
This was at times so humiliating to Ishmael that his self-respect must
have suffered terribly, fatally, but for Beatrice.
The fair-haired, blue-eyed, and gentle Bee had a much finer, more
delicate, sensitive, and susceptible nature than her cousin; she
understood Ishmael better, and sympathized with him more than Claudia
could. She loved and respected him as an elder brother, and indeed more
than she did her elder brothers; for he was much superior to both in
physical, moral, and intellectual beauty. Bee felt all this so deeply
that she honored in Ishmael her ideal of what a boy ought to be, and
what she wished her brothers to become.
In a word, the child-woman had already set up an idol in her heart, an
idol never, never, in all the changes and chances of this world, to be
thrown from its altar. Already she unconsciously identified herself with
his successes. He was now the classmate, equal, and competitor of her
eldest brother; yet in the literary and scholastic rivalship and
struggle between the two, it was not for Walter, but for Ishmael that
she secretly trembled; and in their alternate triumphs and defeats, it
was not with Walter, but Ishmael, that she sorrowed or rejoiced.
Bee was her mother's right hand woman in all household affairs; she
would have been the favorite, if Mrs. Middleton's strict sense of
justice had permitted her to have one among the children. It was Bee who
was always by her mother's side in the early morning, helping her to
prepare the light, nutritious puddings for dinner.
On these occasions Bee would often beg for some special kind of tart or
pie, not for the gratification of her own appetite, but because she had
noticed that Ishmael liked that dish. So early she became his little
household guardian.
And Ishmael? He was now nearly sixteen years old, and thoughtful beyond
his years. Was he grateful for this little creature's earnest affection?
Very grateful he was indeed! He had no sister; but as the dearest of all
dear sisters he loved this little woman of twelve summers.
But she was not his idol! Oh, no! The star of his boyish worship was
Claudia! Whether it was from youthful perversity, or from prior
association, or, as is most likely, by the attraction of antagonism, the
fair, gentle, intellectual peasant boy adored the dark, fiery, imperious
young patrician who loved, petted, and patronized him only as if he had
been a wonderfully learned pig or very accomplished parrot! Bee knew
this; but the pure love of her sweet spirit was incapable of jealousy,
and when she saw that Ishmael loved Claudia best, she herself saw reason
in that for esteeming her cousin higher than she had ever done before!
If Ishmael loved Claudia so much, then Claudia must be more worthy than
ever she had supposed her to be! Such was the reasoning of Beatrice.
Did Mr. and Mrs. Middleton observe this little domestic drama?
Yes; but they attached no importance to it. They considered it all the
harmless, shallow, transient friendships of childhood. They had left
their own youth so far behind that they forgot what serious
matters--sometimes affecting the happiness of many years, sometimes
deciding the destiny of a life--are commenced in the schoolroom.
Ishmael was felt to be perfectly trustworthy; therefore he was allowed
the privilege of free association with these little girls--an honor not
accorded to other day pupils.
This "unjust partiality," as they called the well-merited confidence
bestowed upon our boy, greatly incensed the Burghes, and increased their
enmity against Ishmael.
Master Alfred, who was now a very forward youth of eighteen, fancied
himself to be smitten with the charms of the little beauty of fifteen.
Whether he really was so or not it is impossible to say; but it is
extremely probable that he was more alive to the fortune of the heiress
than to the beauty of the girl. Avarice is not exclusively the passion
of the aged, nor is it a whit less powerful than the passion of love.
Thus young Alfred Burghe was as jealous of Ishmael's approach to
Claudia, as if he--Alfred--had loved the girl instead of coveting her
wealth. Early, very early, marriages were customary in that
neighborhood; so that there was nothing very extravagant in the dream of
that fast young gentleman, that in another year--namely, when he should
be nineteen and she sixteen--he might marry the heiress, and revel in
her riches. But how was he to marry her if he could not court her? And
how was he to court her if he was never permitted to associate with her?
He was forbidden to approach her, while "that cur of a weaver boy" was
freely admitted to her society! He did not reflect that the "weaver boy"
had earned his own position; had established a character for truth,
honesty, fidelity; was pure in spirit, word, and deed, and so was fit
company for the young. But Alfred was quite incapable of appreciating
all this; he thought the preference shown to Ishmael unjust, indecent,
outrageous, and he resolved to be revenged upon his rival, by exposing,
taunting, and humiliating him in the presence of Claudia, the very first
time chance should throw them all three together.
Satan, who always assists his own, soon sent the opportunity.
It was near the first of August; there was to be an examination,
exhibition, and distribution of prizes at the school. And the parents
and friends of the pupils were invited to attend.
Walter Middleton and Ishmael Worth were at the head of the school and
would compete for the first prizes with equal chance of success. The
highest prize--a gold watch--was to be awarded to the best written Greek
thesis. Walter and Ishmael were both ordered to write for this prize,
and for weeks previous to the examination all their leisure time was
bestowed upon this work. The day before the examination each completed
his own composition. And then, like good, confidential, unenvying
friends as they were, they exchanged papers and gave each other a sight
of their work. When each had read and returned his rival's thesis,
Walter said with a sigh:
"It will be just as I foreboded, Ishmael. I said you would take the
prize, and now I know it."
Ishmael paused some time before he answered calmly:
"No, Walter, I will not take it."
"Not take it! nonsense! if you do not take it, it will be because the
examiners do not know their business! Why, Ishmael, there can be no
question as to the relative merits of your composition and mine! Mine
will not bear an instant's comparison with yours."
"Your thesis is perfectly correct; there is not a mistake in it," said
Ishmael encouragingly.
"Oh, yes, it is correct enough; but yours, Ishmael, is not only that,
but more! for it is strong, logical, eloquent! Now I can be accurate
enough, for that matter; but I cannot be anything more! I cannot be
strong, logical, or eloquent in my own native and living language, much
less in a foreign and a dead one! So, Ishmael, you will gain the prize."
"I am quite sure that I shall not," replied our boy.
"Then it will be because our examiners will know no more of Greek than I
do, and not so much as yourself! And as that cannot possibly be the
case, they must award you the prize, my boy. And you shall be welcome to
it for me! I have done my duty in doing the very best I could; and if
you excel me by doing better still, Heaven forbid that I should be so
base as to grudge you the reward you have so well earned. So God bless
you, old boy," said Walter, as he parted from his friend.