ISHMAEL HEARS A SECRET FROM AN ENEMY.
Shame come to Romeo? Blistered be thy tongue
For such a wish! He was not born to shame;
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;
For 'tis a throne where honor may be crowned,
Sole monarch of the universal earth!
--_Shakspere_.
In the interval the drawing room was rapidly cleared out and prepared
for dancing. The staging at the upper end, which had been appropriated
to the use of the examining committee, was now occupied by a band of six
negro musicians, headed by the Professor of Odd Jobs. They were seated
all in a row, engaged in tuning their instruments under the instructions
of Morris. The room wore a gay, festive, and inviting aspect. It was
brightly lighted up; its white walls were festooned with wreaths of
flowers; its oak floor was polished and chalked for the dancers; and
its windows were all open to admit the pleasant summer air and the
perfume of flowers, so much more refreshing in the evening than at any
other time of the day.
At a very early hour the young ladies and gentlemen of the school, whose
gala dresses needed but the addition of wreaths and bouquets for the
evening, began to gather in the drawing room; the girls looking very
pretty in their white muslin dresses, pink sashes, and coronets of red
roses; and the boys very smart in their holiday clothes, with rosebuds
stuck into their buttonholes. Ishmael was made splendid by the addition
of his gold watch and chain, and famous by his success of the morning.
All the girls, and many of the boys, gathered around him, sympathizing
with his triumph and complimenting him upon his abilities. Ishmael was
clearly the hero of the evening; but he bore himself with an aspect half
of pleasure, half of pain, until Walter Middleton approached him, and
taking his arm walked him down the room, until they were out of earshot
from the others, when he said:
"Now do, Ishmael, put off that distressed look and enjoy your success as
you ought! Make much of your watch, my boy! I know if it were not for
thoughts of me, you would enjoy the possession of it vastly--would you
not, now?"
"Yes," said Ishmael, "I would."
"You would not be a 'human boy,' if you didn't. I know well enough I was
near losing my wits with delight in the first watch I possessed,
although it was but a trumpery little silver affair! Well, now, Ishmael,
enjoy your possession without a drawback. I assure you, upon record, I
am very glad you got the prize. You deserved the honor more than I did,
and you needed the watch more. For see here, you know I have a gold one
of my own already--my mother's gift to me on my last birthday,"
continued Walter, taking out and displaying his school watch. "Now what
could I do with two? So, Ishmael, let me see you enjoy yours, or else I
shall feel unhappy," he concluded, earnestly pressing his friend's hand.
"Walter Middleton, what do you mean, sir, by stealing my thunder in that
way? It is my property that you are carrying off! Ishmael is my protégé,
my liege subject. Bring him back, sir! I want to show his watch to my
companions," spoke the imperious voice of Miss Merlin.
"Come, Ishmael; you must make a spectacle of yourself again, I suppose,
to please that little tyrant," laughed Walter, as he turned back with
his friend towards the group of young girls.
Now in this company was one who looked with the envious malignity of
Satan upon the well-merited honors of the poor peasant boy. This enemy
was Alfred Burghe, and he was now savagely waiting his opportunity to
inflict upon Ishmael a severe mortification.
As Walter and Ishmael, therefore, approached the group of young ladies,
Alfred, who was loitering near them, lying in wait for his victim, drew
away with an expression of disgust upon his face, saying:
"Oh, if that fellow is to join our circle, I shall feel obliged to leave
it. It is degrading enough to be forced to mix with such rubbish in the
schoolroom, without having to associate with him in the drawing room."
"What do you mean by that, sir?" demanded Miss Merlin, flashing upon him
the lightning of her eyes, before Ishmael had drawn near enough to
overhear the words of Alfred.
"I mean that fellow is not fit company for me."
"No; Heavens knows that he is not!" exclaimed Claudia pointedly.
"Never mind, Miss Merlin; do not be angry with him; the beaten have a
right to cry out," said Ishmael, who had now come up, and stood smiling
among them, totally unconscious of the humiliation that was in store for
him.
"I am not angry; I am never angry with such dull pups; though I find it
necessary to punish them sometimes," replied Claudia haughtily.
"I say he is no fit company for me; and when I say that, I mean to say
that he is no fit company for any young gentleman, much less for any
young lady!" exclaimed Alfred.
Ishmael looked on with perfect good humor, thinking only that his
poverty was sneered at, and feeling immeasurably above the possibility
of humiliation or displeasure upon that account.
Claudia thought as he did, that only his lowly fortunes had exposed him
to contempt; so putting her delicate white gloved hand in that of
Ishmael, she said:
"Ishmael Worth is my partner in the first dance; do you dare to hint
that the youth I dance with is not proper company for any gentleman, or
any lady, either?"
"No, I don't hint it; I speak it out in plain words; he is not only not
fit company for any gentleman or lady, but he is not even fit company
for any decent negro!"
Ishmael, strong in conscious worth, and believing the words of Alfred to
be only reckless assertion, senseless abuse, laughed aloud with sincere,
boyish mirthfulness at its absurdity.
But Claudia's cheeks grew crimson, and her eyes flashed--bad signs these
for the keeping of her temper towards "dull pups."
"He is honest, truthful, intelligent, industrious, and polite. These are
qualities which, of course, unfit him for such society as yours, Mr.
Burghe; but I do not see why they should unfit him for that of ladies
and gentlemen," said Claudia severely.
"He is a ----," brutally exclaimed Alfred, using a coarse word, at which
all the young girls started and recoiled, as if each had received a
wound, while all the boys exclaimed simultaneously:
"Oh, fie!" or "Oh, Alf, how could you say such a thing!"
"For shame!"
As for Walter Middleton, he had collared the young miscreant before the
word was fairly out of his mouth. But an instant's reflection caused the
young gentleman to release the culprit, with the words:
"My father's house and the presence of these young ladies protect you
for the present, sir."
Ishmael stood alone, in the center of a shocked and recoiling circle of
young girls; so stunned by the epithet that had been hurled at him that
he scarcely yet understood its meaning or felt that he was wounded.
"What did he say, Walter?" he inquired, appealing to his friend.
Walter Middleton put his strong arm around the slender and elegant form
of Ishmael, and held him firmly; but whether in a close embrace or light
restraint, or both, it was hard to decide, as he answered:
"He says what will be very difficult for him to explain, when he shall
be called to account to-morrow morning; but what, it is quite needless
to repeat."
"I say he is a ----! His mother was never married! and no one on earth
knows who his father was--or if he ever had a father!" roared Alfred
brutally.
Walter's arm closed convulsively upon Ishmael. There was good reason.
The boy had given one spasmodic bound forward, as if he would have
throttled his adversary on the spot; but the restraining arm of Walter
Middleton held him back; his face was pale as marble; a cold sweat had
burst upon his brow; he was trembling in every limb as he gasped:
"Walter, this cannot be true! Oh, say it is not true!"
"True! no! I believe it is as false--as false as that young villain's
heart! and nothing can be falser than that!" indignantly exclaimed young
Middleton.
"It is! it is true! The whole county knows it is true!" vociferated
Alfred. "And if anybody here doubts it, let them ask old Hannah Worth if
her nephew isn't a ----"
"Leave the room, sir!" exclaimed Walter, interrupting him before he
could add another word. "Your language and manners are so offensive as
to render your presence entirely inadmissible here! Leave the room,
instantly!"
"I won't!" said Alfred stoutly.
Walter was unwilling to release Ishmael from the tight, half-friendly,
half-masterly embrace in which he held him; else, perhaps, he might
himself have ejected the offender. As it was, he grimly repeated his
demand.
"Will you leave the room?"
"No!" replied Alfred.
"James, do me the favor to ring the bell."
James Middleton rang a peal that brought old Jovial quickly to the room.
"Jovial, will you go and ask your master if he will be kind enough to
come here; his presence is very much needed," said Walter.
Jovial bowed and withdrew.
"I shall go and complain to my father of the insults I have received!"
said Alfred, turning to leave the room; for he had evidently no wish to
meet the impending interview with Mr. Middleton.
"I anticipated that you would reconsider your resolution of remaining
here!" laughed Walter, as he let this sarcasm off after his retreating
foe.
He had scarcely disappeared through one door before Mr. Middleton
entered at another.
"What is all this about, Walter?" he inquired, approaching the group of
panic-stricken girls and wondering boys.
"Some new rudeness of Alfred Burghe, father; but he has just taken
himself off, for which I thank him; so there is no use in saying more
upon the subject for the present," replied Walter.
"There is no use, in any case, to disturb the harmony of a festive
evening, my son; all complaints may well be deferred until the morning,
when I shall be ready to hear them," replied Mr. Middleton, smiling, and
never suspecting how serious the offense of Alfred Burghe had been.
"And now," he continued, turning towards the band, "strike up the music,
professor! The summer evenings are short, and the young people must make
the most of this one. Walter, my son, you are to open the ball with your
cousin."
"Thank you very much, uncle; thank you, Walter, but my hand is engaged
for this set to Ishmael Worth; none but the winner of the first prize
for me!" said Claudia gayly, veiling the kindness that prompted her to
favor the mortified youth under a sportive assumption of vanity.
"Very well, then, where is the hero?" said Mr. Middleton.
But Ishmael had suddenly disappeared, and was nowhere to be found.
"Where is he, Walter? He was standing by you," said Claudia.
"I had my arm around him to prevent mischief, and I released him only an
instant since; but he seems to have slipped away," answered Walter, in
surprise.
"He has gone after Alfred! and there will be mischief done; and no one
could blame Ishmael if there was!" exclaimed Claudia.
"It was young Worth, then, that Burghe assailed?" inquired Mr.
Middleton.
"Yes, uncle! and if Mr. Burghe is permitted to come to the house after
his conduct this evening, I really shall feel compelled to write to my
father, and request him to remove me, for I cannot, indeed, indeed, I
cannot expose myself to the shock of hearing such language as he has
dared to use in my presence this evening!" said Claudia excitedly.
"Compose yourself, my dear girl; he will not trouble us after this
evening; he does not return to school after the vacation; he goes to
West Point," said her uncle.
"And where I hope the discipline will be strict enough to keep him in
order!" exclaimed Claudia.
"But now someone must go after Ishmael. Ring for Jovial, Walter."
"Father, old Jovial will be too slow. Had I not better go myself?" asked
Walter, seizing his hat.
Mr. Middleton assented, and the young man went out on his quest.
He hunted high and low, but found no trace of Ishmael. He found,
however, what set his mind at ease upon the subject of a collision
between the youths; it was the form of Alfred Burghe, stretched at
length upon the thick and dewy grass.
"Why do you lie there? You will take cold. Get up and go home," said
Walter, pitying his discomfiture and loneliness; for the generous are
compassionate even to the evil doer.
Alfred did not condescend to reply.
"Get up, I say; you will take cold," persisted Walter.
"I don't care if I do! I had as lief die as not! I have no friends!
nobody cares for me," exclaimed the unhappy youth, in the bitterness of
spirit common to those who have brought their troubles upon themselves.
"If you would only reform your manners, Alfred, you would find friends
enough, from the Creator, who only requires of you that 'you cease to do
evil and learn to do well,' down to the humblest of his creatures--down
to that poor boy whom you so heartlessly insulted to-night; but whose
generous nature would bear no lasting malice against you," said Walter
gravely.
"It is deuced hard, though, to see a fellow like that taking the shine
out of us all," grumbled Alfred.
"No, it isn't! it is glorious, glorious indeed, to see a poor youth like
that struggling up to a higher life--as he is struggling. He won the
prize from me, me, his senior in age and in the school, and my heart
burns with admiration for the boy when I think of it! How severely he
must have striven to have attained such proficiency in these three
years. How hard he must have studied; how much of temptation to idleness
he must have resisted; how much of youthful recreation, and even of
needful rest, he must have constantly denied himself; not once or twice,
but for months and years! Think of it! He has richly earned all the
success he has had. Do not envy him his honors, at least until you have
emulated his heroism," said Walter, with enthusiasm.
"I think I will go home," said Alfred, to whom the praises of his rival
was not the most attractive theme in the world.
"You may return with me to the house now, if you please, since my friend
Ishmael has gone home. Keep out of the way of Miss Merlin, and no one
else will interfere with you," said Walter, who, when not roused to
indignation, had all his father's charity for "miserable" sinners.
Alfred hesitated for a minute, looking towards the house, where the
light windows and pealing music of the drawing room proved an attraction
too strong for his pride to resist. Crestfallen and sheepish, he
nevertheless returned to the scene of festivity, where the young people
were now all engaged in dancing, and where, after a while, they all with
the happy facility of youth forgot his rudeness and drew him into their
sports. All except Claudia, who would have nothing on earth to say to
him, and Beatrice, who, though ignorant of his assault upon Ishmael,
obeyed the delicate instincts of her nature that warned her to avoid
him.
On observing the return of Alfred, Mr. Middleton took the first
opportunity of saying to his son:
"I see that you have brought Burghe back."
"Yes, father; since Ishmael is not here to be pained by his presence, I
thought it better to bring him back; for I remembered your words spoken
of him on a former occasion: 'That kindness will do more to reform such
a nature as his than reprobation could.'"
"Yes--very true! But poor Ishmael! Where is he?"
Aye! where, indeed?