'Melt into Lymph or kindle into gas.'
There are those who contend that scientific truths cannot be stated
poetically; but here, I am sure, science and sentiment are at one. Am
I not right?"
"Doubtless your judgment is correct," assented Chester, uncertain
whether Blennerhassett was speaking in earnest or in irony. "I confess
I am not a literary student. Pardon the interruption and my
inquisitiveness, but am I correctly informed that the young lady to
whom I was introduced, a few weeks ago, when I called here, is related
to Mr. Hale of whom we were speaking?"
"Quite right; she is his daughter, Miss Evaleen, an amiable girl.
Margaret and the boys think the world of her."
Arlington made another effort to satisfy his jealous curiosity. "I was
told by a gentleman in Marietta that Miss Hale is about to be married.
Am I correctly informed? The lucky man is to be envied."
Blennerhassett, whose eyes were still picking poetic gems from Darwin,
answered vaguely.
"Oh, to be sure. A fortunate man. She will make an excellent wife. Did
you hear such a report? Not surprising; I remember now that Margaret
mentioned something of Evaleen's prospects in that way--to the
effect, I believe, that she, that is, Miss Hale, had received gallant
attentions from an eligible young man--a suitor. Women take more
interest than we men do in affairs of this nature. I can give no
particulars."
"This Captain Danvers--?" faltered Chester.
"Danvers? Danvers?" repeated the absent-minded philosopher amiably.
"Ah, yes. Captain Danvers is at present stopping at the Hale
residence. My wife tells me that Evaleen and he are exceedingly
devoted to each other. Naturally. You would be welcome, I assure you,
if you should call. They are very hospitable."
Without further inquiries, Arlington presently took leave to join
Byle, with whom he voyaged back to Marietta. Wrapped in meditation he
sat, taciturn, ballasting the unstable piroque which his stalwart
comrade propelled with astonishing speed against the current. Chester
spoke not a dozen sentences during the tedious passage from the island
to the village. Byle, strange to say, also held his tongue, but he
watched his melancholy companion with varying facial expressions,
eloquent of fellow-feeling. The piroque was brought to shore on the
east bank of the Muskingum, a short distance above the mouth of the
river.
"You can tell your grandchildren that you sot your foot just where
Rufus Putnam did when he jumped off the Mayflower in 1788. This is the
spot where the first settlers of Ohio landed."
"You make me feel quite like a historical character," said Arlington,
and thanked his obliging guide.
"I don't reckon history is all over yet, Arlington. Good-night, and
take keer of yourself. I'm goshamighty sorry your goose is cooked in
regards to Evaleen. Still, this Danvers is a perfect gentleman--you'd
say so yourself if you knowed him as she does. By dad, we can't all
have the same girl, or others would suffer. Don't forget the bitters.
Speaking of bitters and how to cure trouble in this vale of tears, as
the saying is, I reckon you have heard of a man by the name of
Jonathan Edwards? He's dead now, but he made his living by preaching,
and he wrote books. The only one of his works that I ever read was his
_Rules_, and they are elegant. One of Jonathan's rules I learned by
heart: 'When you feel pain, think of the pains of martyrdom and of
hell.' You might try that. But whatever you try, _don't forget the
bitters_--fruit of the cucumber tree in raw whiskey."
"Don't forget the bitters." These words kept repeating themselves in
Chester's mind long after he had gone to bed in the small room
assigned to him by the host of the Travellers' Rest. He slept
wretchedly, rose late the next morning, breakfasted, and after
ordering his horse to be saddled at nine o'clock, walked to the wharf
where lay the mail-boat ready to start down the Ohio. Among the few
taking passage on the vessel was Captain Danvers, who had been ordered
to report for service in St. Louis, and was on his way thither.
Arlington observed the fine-looking young officer with the petulant
dislike of foiled envy. So spiteful was his mood that he wished a
pretext for saying or doing something offensive to his handsome rival.
Such a pretext was afforded. A veteran major who had accompanied
Danvers to the boat, to bid him good-bye, called out:
"Captain, don't let the Indians scalp you or the Spaniards take you
prisoner. If you had been three weeks sooner you might have had Aaron
Burr for a fellow-traveller. He stopped here on his way down the
river."
"I would not travel on the same boat with Aaron Burr. I consider him
guilty of murder."