AN HEIRESS WHO WISHES TO BECOME A MAN.
Philippa is a lady of nineteen or twenty, with the air of a duchess
and the walk of an antelope. Her brilliant eyes, as black as night,
and as clear as a sunny stream, are full of life, vivacity and
mischief; she seems to be laughing at life, and love, and gallantry,
and all the complimentary nothings of society, from the height of her
superior intellect, and with undazzled eyes. She is clad even more
richly than Belle-bouche, for Philippa is an heiress--the mistress of
untold farms--or plantations as they then said;--miles of James River
"low grounds" and uncounted Africans. Like the Duke of Burgundy's, her
sovereignty is acknowledged in three languages--the English, the
African or Moorish, and the Indian: for the Indian settlement on the
south side calls her mistress, and sends to her for blankets in the
winter. In the summer it is not necessary to ask for the produce of
her estate, such as they desire--they appropriate it.
Philippa is a cousin of Belle-bouche; and Belle-bouche is the niece of
Aunt Wimple, who is mistress of the Shadynook domain. Philippa has
guardians, but it cannot be said they direct her movements. They have
given up that task in despair, some years since, and only hope that
from the numerous cormorants always hovering around her, she may
select one not wholly insatiable--with some craw of mercy.
"There, you are talking about flowers, I lay a wager," she says,
returning the bow of Jacques, and laughing.
"I was speaking neither of yourself nor the fair Belinda," replies
Jacques, with melancholy gallantry.
"There! please have done with compliments--I detest them."
"You detest every thing insincere, I know, charming Philippa--pardon
me, but your beautiful name betrays me constantly. Is it not--like
your voice--stolen from poetry or music?"
"Ah, sir, you are insufferable."
"Pardon, pardon--but in this beautiful and fair season, so full of
flowers----"
"You think it necessary to employ flowers of speech: that is what you
were going to say, but for heaven's sake have done."
Jacques bows.
"I have just discarded the twentieth, Bel," she adds, laughing; "he
got on his knees."
And Philippa laughs heartily.
Jacques is used to his companion's manner of talking, and says:
"Who was it, pray, madam--Mowbray?"
A flush passes over Philippa's face, and she looks away, murmuring
"No!"
"I won't go over the list of your admirers," continues Jacques, sadly,
"they are too numerous; for who can wonder at such a fairy face as
yours attracting crowds of lovers?"
"My fairy face? Yes, and my unhappy wealth, sir. I wish I was poor! I
can never know when I am loved truly. Oh, to know that!"
And a shadow passes over the face, obliterating the satire, and
veiling the brilliant eyes. Then with an effort Philippa drives away
her preoccupation, and says:
"I wish Heaven had made me a man!"
"A man?" says Jacques.
"Yes, sir."
"Pray why? Is there any young lady you would like to marry? Ah," he
murmurs, "you need not go far if that is the case."
And he glances tenderly at Belle-bouche, who smiles and blushes.
"I wish to be a man, that my movements may not be restricted. There is
my guardian, who murmurs at my travelling about from county to county
with only Jugurtha to drive me--as if Jugurtha couldn't protect me if
there were any highwaymen or robbers."
Jacques laughs.
"But there are disadvantages connected with manhood," he says. "You
are ignorant of them, and so think them slight."
"The prominent ones, if you please."
"You would have to make love--the active instead of passive, as at
present."
"I would enjoy it."
"How would you commence, pray?"
"Oh, easily--see now. I would say,'My dear Bel! I am at your service!
If _you_ love _me_, _I'll_ love _you_!' And then with a low bow I
would kiss her hand, and her lips too, if she would permit me."
Jacques sighs.
"Do you think that would succeed, however?" he says.
"I don't know, and I don't care--I'd try."
Jacques sighs again, and looks wistfully at Belle-bouche, who smiles.
"I'm afraid such a cavalier address--at the pistol's mouth as it
were--at forty paces--like those highwaymen you spoke of but
now--would only insure failure."
"You are mistaken."
"I doubt the propriety of such a 'making love.'"
"If I were a man, you would see my success. I'd have any woman for the
asking."
"Well, fancy yourself a man."
"And who will be my lady-love?"
"Fancy my sex changed also--make love to me, my charming Madam
Philippa."
"Forsooth! But I could win your heart easily."
"How, pray," says Jacques, sighing, "granting first that 'tis in my
possession?"
"By two simple things."
"To wit?"
"I would talk to you of flowers and shepherdesses, and crooks and
garlands----"
"Oh!"
"And I would adopt, if I had not naturally, that frank, languid,
graceful, fatal air which--which--shall I finish?"
"Yes, indeed."
"Which Bel has! What a beautiful blush!"
And Philippa claps her hands.
Jacques tries very hard not to color, thus forfeiting all his
pretensions to the character of a self-possessed man of the world and
elegant coxcomb; but this is equally forlorn with his attempt not to
observe the mischievous glance and satirical lip of the fair Philippa.
He seeks in vain for a word--a jest--a reply.
Fortune favors him. A maid from the house approaches Philippa, and
says:
"Mr. Mowbray, ma'am."
A blush, deeper than that upon the face of Jacques, mantles Philippa's
cheeks as she replies:
"Say I am coming."
"Before you go," says Jacques with odious triumph, "permit me to say,
Madam Philippa, that I begin to see some of the advantages you might
enjoy were you a man."
"What are they, pray--more than I have mentioned?" she says coolly.
"You might have more liberty."
"I said as much."
"You might go and see your friends."
"You repeat my words, sir."
"Yes--you might even go and see us at college; listen to my
philosophical discussions after lecture; and take part in Mowbray's
merry jests--an excellent friend of yours, I think."
Philippa looks at him for a moment, hesitating whether she shall stay
and take her revenge. She decides to go in, however; and Jacques and
Belle-bouche follow. We are bound to say that the proposition did not
come from Jacques.