"Were you not delighted with the wild and mountainous scenery of the
country around the Virginia Springs?" said Victor Chevillere to Miss St.
Clair, on the morning after the scene related in the last chapter, as
the lady reclined, in a pensive mood, in the room before described.
"Oh, sir, you forget that I was too feeble in mind and body to enjoy the
scenery around me then, or to partake of the enthusiasm of my friends on
the subject. The rich and romantic scenery of the White Sulphur was
highly attractive to me, when I became somewhat convalescent; yet I
shall carry with me through life a sad remembrance of scenes, which to
many others of my age and sex will ever be associated with the gay
dance, the enlivening gallopade, the stirring music, and with
adventurous equestrian excursions among the mountains."
"I believe," said Chevillere, "that the most melancholy reflections may
be and are much softened and mellowed in after-life, by being associated
in the mind with the profoundly poetical feelings excited by the
constant view of quiet mountain scenery; such as the well-remembered,
long, long line of blue peaks, stretching far away until they reach the
clouds and the horizon."
"It is indeed true," said she, "that kind and beautiful nature, in the
season of green leaves and flowers, will sometimes almost tempt us to
believe that misery is not the inevitable lot of the human family; but
when the consciousness of the one and the beauty of the other are
together present to us, it depends entirely upon the degree, whether the
beauty softens the suffering or not."
"In other words," said he, "whether the evil be so irremediable that
_hope_ cannot enter the heart; that the ravishing beauty of nature
cannot excite benevolence, devotion, and love."
"That was not entirely my case," said she, "for I am grateful for having
felt some pleasing excitement at the time, and for being able now to
call up many pleasurable remembrances, clouded as they are for the most
part with sadness."
"If I have been rightly informed, you did not visit all the other
springs around the White Sulphur."
"My health would not permit of our making the entire fashionable round."
"Oh, then you have missed much pleasure," said he. "There are the Sweet
Springs, rising out of the earth like a boiling caldron, with brilliant
little balloons of gas ever ascending to the top of the water, and
bursting in the sunbeams. There is not perhaps in the world such another
natural fountain of soda-water. And there is the Salt Sulphur, with its
high romantic hills covered with herds, and its beautiful meadows, and
its long village of neat white cottages, and its splendid
assembly-rooms, and its sumptuous banquets of wild game and artificial
luxuries. But, above all, there is the Warm Spring, with its clear blue
crystal baths, large enough for a troop of horse to swim in; there,
likewise, is an extensive green lawn, flanked on the one side by the
same kind of neat white cottages, and on the other by the line of blue
mountains, rising abruptly from the plain within gun-shot of the baths.
On a clear moonlight night, one may see the invalids sitting out on the
green in front of their doors, enjoying the placid scenery of the
valley, and the profound and solemn monotony of the overhanging
mountains,--sometimes, indeed, interrupted by the bustle of a new
arrival, the neighing of horses, the crash of the wheels, the hoarse
voices of the coachmen as they exchange advice upon the descent into the
valley, or by the meeting of old friends and fellow-invalids, perhaps
acquaintances of a former season, and fellow-sufferers with the gout,
bantering each other upon their speed."
"From what little I saw of them, I think they perfectly justify the
southern enthusiasm which we found everywhere on the subject; and I
should think that there is no finer opportunity of seeing southern
fashionable society."
"True; our wealthiest and most fashionable people resort thither every
season. Yet I cannot say in truth, from what I have observed myself,
that our aristocracy are seen there to the best advantage. They are too
much in their holyday suit of manners,--too artificial,--too unnatural.
I have seen people who were agreeable at home, become affected and
disagreeable at watering-places. I have also seen some who were reserved
at home, become quite affable there. The latter effect, however, was by
no means so common as the former."
"I did not see much affectation, or many unnatural people at the White
Sulphur," said the lady.
"I cannot say that it is one of the besetting sins of the southern
fashionables; all I meant to say was, that they show more of it there
than at home."
"For my own part, I was delighted with the generous, free, and
open-hearted manner in which I was treated by the few female
acquaintances I made; and I am almost ashamed to acknowledge that they
were far more intelligent and accomplished than my prejudices had taught
me to expect."
"You acknowledge, then, that you had some provincial prejudices. Let me
see! _then_ I must take you regularly to account, and catechise you."
"Well," said the lady, as lightly as her habitual sadness ever
permitted, "I will answer truly."
"I know you will speak truly whatever you do answer; but will you speak
the whole truth in answer to whatever I shall ask?"
A sad and afflicted expression appeared upon her countenance as she
replied, "I need hardly say to Mr. Chevillere, that those questions
which are proper for him to ask and for me to hear shall be fully
answered."
"You do me but justice in supposing that I would not discredit my new
dignity, by propounding questions which would lessen me in the eyes of a
fair witness; but, to tell you the truth, I seriously meditated putting
a few in addition to such as were local, and perhaps in a more serious
mood than these might demand."
"Proceed, sir, proceed," said the lady, somewhat perturbed; "I must
reserve the right to answer or not. No trifling impediment, however,
shall prevent me from gratifying your curiosity."
"Would you consider it a great misfortune to reside in the southern
states?"
"Places and countries are to me nearly alike."
"How so? You surely prefer your native land to all others?"
"Unhappiness soon makes us indifferent to mere locality; situated as I
am, many would prefer new scenes."
"Does not affliction enlarge the heart, and extend the affections?"
"I believe that slight sufferings make us captious--great ones, humane
and benevolent."
"Is it a natural consequence, that, when benevolence becomes universal,
personal affections and partialities wither in proportion?"
"Certainly not, as a consequence; but it is questionable whether
blighted hopes do not generally precede the enlarged philanthropy spoken
of."
"May not much travelling and experience of the world produce the same
effect?"
"I cannot speak experimentally on that point; but I think it is very
probable they do upon a masculine mind."
As Chevillere was about to continue his half-serious, half-jesting
questions, Mr. Brumley abruptly entered, and announced to his
daughter-in-law his determination to proceed northward early on the
following morning; and almost at the same moment, old Cato, with his
stately step, profound bow, and cap in hand, presented a letter to his
master, which he instantly knew by the superscription to be from
Randolph. Presenting his regards to them both, he retired to peruse the
epistle, which will be found in the next chapter.