VICTOR AND ELECTRA.
Heaven has to all allotted, soon or late,
Some lucky revolution of their fate;
Whose motions, if we watch and guide with skill--
For human good depends on human will--
Our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent,
And from a first impression takes its bent;
But if unseized, she glides away like wind,
And leaves repenting folly far behind,
Now, now she meets you with a glorious prize,
And spreads her locks before her as she flies.
--DRYDEN.
The next morning at the appointed hour the Rev. Mr. Lyle and Victor
Hartman left their hotel together and went to Mrs. Wheatfield's, to
escort the ladies to the University, where Dr. Jones and Alden Lytton
were to meet them and introduce them to the president. The two gentlemen
found the young ladies already dressed and waiting.
Miss Cavendish explained that her aunt did not care about seeing more of
the University than she had already seen, and preferred to remain in the
house with the bishop's widow and rest that day.
And so, under the circumstances, they--Miss Cavendish and her young
friends--had decided not to have a carriage, but to take advantage of
the fine morning and walk the short mile that lay between the village
and its great seat of learning.
Nothing could have pleased their escorts better than this plan.
And soon they--the party of five--set out upon the pleasant country road
that led out to the University.
Emma Cavendish and Laura Lytton led the way, and by Laura's side walked
the Rev. Mr. Lyle. Electra dropped a little behind, and was attended by
Victor Hartman.
They talked of the fine morning and of the beautiful country, of the
grand Commencement of the preceding day and of the University they were
going to see; but they talked in an absent-minded manner, as if, indeed,
they were both thinking of something else.
This lasted until they were half-way to the place, when at length
Electra turned suddenly upon Victor and said:
"Do you know, Mr. Brent, that your face seems a very familiar one to
me?"
"Indeed!" said Victor, bending his head nearer to her.
"Yes, indeed! Your face struck me as being familiar the first moment I
saw you, and this impression has grown deeper every moment we have been
walking together; and now I _know_ of whom you remind me," answered
Electra; and then she paused and looked at him.
He made no remark.
"You do not care to know who that was, it seems," she said.
"Oh, yes, I do, I assure you, Miss Coroni, if you please to tell me!"
"Then you remind me of a poor lad whom I once knew and liked very much
in New York, when I was as poor as himself," said Electra, meaningly.
"It is very kind of you to remember the poor lad after so many years and
so many changes," replied Victor.
"I wonder if that poor lad ever thinks of _me_, 'after so many years and
so many changes?'" murmured Electra, musingly.
"I don't know. Tell me his name, and then perhaps I can answer your
question. I have roamed around the world a good deal and seen a great
many different sorts of people. Who knows but I may have met your poor
lad? Let us have his name," said Victor, gravely.
They were both, to use a household phrase, "beating about the bush."
"Oh, he was too poor to own a name! But he was cook's boy on board a
merchantman, and they called him 'Galley Vick.' I never knew him by any
other name. Did you ever see him at all?"
"Oh, yes, I've seen him! A good-for-nothing little vagabond he was! No,
I don't suppose he ever dares to think about such a fine young lady as
you are. But he cherishes the memory of a poor little girl he once knew
in Rat Alley, New York. And only the day before yesterday, when I
happened to be with him, he was saying how much he would give to know
what had become of that poor little girl."
"Yes, it was very nice of him to remember her," said Electra, musingly.
"You say that you knew the poor lad in New York. Perhaps, as they were
so much together, you may have known the poor little girl also?" said
Victor.
"I can not tell you unless you give me her name. There were so many
poor little girls in New York," answered Electra, shaking her head.
"_She_, like the boy, was too poor then to own a name. They called her
'Sal's Kid.' I never knew her by any other name," answered Victor.
And then their eyes met, and both laughed and impulsively put out their
hands, which were then clasped together.
"I knew you at the very first sight, Vick," said Electra, giving full
way to her feelings of pleasure in meeting her old playmate again.
"And so did I you. Heaven bless you, child! I am so happy and thankful
to find you here, so healthy and prosperous. You were a sickly, poor
little thing when I knew you," said Victor, with much emotion.
"I was a famished poor little thing, you mean, food has made all the
difference, Victor," laughed Electra.
"My name is Joseph Brent, my dear," said Hartman, who almost trembled to
hear the old name spoken.
"Ah, but Sal's Kid knew you only as Galley Vick. I thought Vick was the
short for Victor. But it seems you really had a name all the time as
well as I had, though neither of us suspected we possessed such an
appendage."
Hartman bowed in silence.
"And now I suppose you would like to know how it happens that you find
poor little ragged, famished, sickly Sal's Kid, who used to live in Rat
Alley among thieves and tramps, here--well lodged, well dressed and in
good company?"
"Yes, I really would."
"Well, it was 'all along of' a grandfather."
"A grandfather!"
"Yes, a grandfather. I really had a grandfather! And I have him still.
And you have seen him, and his name is Dr. Beresford Jones. And,
moreover, I had a great-grandfather back of _him_; and also forefathers
behind _them_, and ancestors extending away back to antiquity. In fact,
I think they ran away back to Adam!"
"I dare say they did," answered Victor, with a smile; "but tell me about
that grandfather."
"Well, you must know that he was wealthy. He owned Beresford Manors. He
had one child, 'sole daughter of the house.' She married a poor young
Italian music-master against her father's will. Her father cast her off.
Her husband took her to New York, where they fell by degrees into the
deepest destitution. They both died of cholera, leaving me to the care
of the miserable beings who were their fellow-lodgers in the old
tenement house. I believe I was passed from the hands of one beggar to
those of another, until my identity was lost and my real name forgotten.
But I do not clearly remember any of my owners except Sal. And I was
called 'Sal's Kid.'"
"It was then I knew you," said Victor.
"So it was. Well, you know all about that period. It was soon after you
went to sea that Sal's husband, being mad with drink and jealousy,
struck his wife a fatal blow and killed her."
"Horrible!"
"Yes, horrible! I have heard since that the man died of _mania-a-potu_
in the Tombs, before his trial came on."
"And you?"
"I was taken by the Commissioners of Charity and put into the Orphan
Asylum at Randall's Island."
"And how did your grandfather ever find you there, where your very name
was lost?"
"You may well ask that. My name was lost. I suppose, hearing me called
Sal's Kid, they mistook that for Sal Kidd. Any way they registered my
name on the books of the Island as Sarah Kidd."
Victor laughed at this piece of ingenuity on the part of the
authorities, and again expressed wonder as to how her grandfather ever
found her.
"If I were a heathen, I should say he found me by chance. It looked
like it. You see, he had met with misfortunes. His wife--my
grandmother--died. And he was growing old, and his home was lonely and
his life was dreary. And so he relented toward his poor daughter, and
even toward her husband."
"But too late!" put in Victor.
"Yes; too late. He relented too late," sighed Electra. "He went to New
York, where they had been living when he had last heard of them, and
after making the most diligent inquiries he only learned that they had
been dead several years, and had left an orphan girl in great
destitution. Well, he advertised for the child, offering large rewards
for her discovery."
"But in vain, I suppose?" said Victor.
"Ah, yes, in vain, for I was at Randall's Island, registered under
another name."
"The case seemed hopeless," said Victor.
"Entirely hopeless. And then, partly from his disappointment and partly
from seeing so much of suffering among children, he became a sort of
city missionary. It was in his character of missionary that he went one
day to an examination of the pupils of the girls' school on Randall's
Island. There he saw me, and recognized me by my striking likeness to my
mother. Indeed he has since told me that I am a counterpart of what my
mother was at my age."
"And your face is such a very peculiar and, I may say, unique face, that
the likeness could not have been accidental, I suppose," observed
Victor.
"That is what he thought. Well, without saying a word to me then of his
recognition, he commenced with the slight clew that he had in his hands
and pursued investigations that in a few days proved me to be the child
of Sebastian and Electra Coroni. Then he came to the Island and took me
away, and put me to school at Mount Ascension. There I made the
acquaintance of the young lady friend that I am now staying with. Miss
Cavendish is my cousin. Last month I graduated from Mount Ascension. And
on the first of next month I am going to Beresford Manors, to commence
my new life there as my grandfather's housekeeper. And, Victor--I beg
your pardon!--Mr. Brent, I hope that you will come and visit us there,"
concluded Electra, with a smile.
"But how would your grandfather, Dr. Beresford Jones of Beresford
Manors, take a visit from a poor adventurer like me?" inquired Victor.
"He will take it very kindly; for he also will ask you to come," said
Electra.
Victor bowed and walked on in silence.
Electra spoke again:
"I have told you without reserve how it was that I was so suddenly
raised from extreme poverty to wealth, and now--"
She paused and looked at her companion.
"And now you want to know how I came by my fortune?" smilingly inquired
Victor.
"Yes, of course I do," answered Electra.
"The explanation is short and simple enough. I became suddenly rich, as
some few other poor vagabonds have, by a fortunate stroke of the
pick--by a California gold mine," quietly answered Victor.
"Oh!" exclaimed Electra.
And she stopped and put him away from her a step, and stood and stared
at him.
Victor laughed. And then they went on, for their companions were at the
gates of the University, waiting for them to come along.
They entered the beautiful grounds occupied by the extensive buildings
of the University, and where several of the professors, as well as a few
of the students who had not yet left for the vacation, were taking their
morning walks.
The visitors were soon met by Dr. Jones and Alden Lytton, who came up
together to welcome them.
After the usual greetings, Alden introduced his party to several of the
professors, who received them with great courtesy, and attended them
through the various buildings, pointing out to them the most notable
objects of interest, and entertaining them with the history, statistics
and anecdotes of the institution.
They were taken into the various libraries, where they saw collected
vast numbers of the most valuable books, among which were a few very
unique black letter and illuminated volumes of great antiquity.
They were then led into the several halls, where were collected costly
astronomical and chemical apparatus.
And finally they visited the museum, filled with cabinets of minerals,
shells, woods, fossils, and so forth.
And after an interesting but very fatiguing tour of inspection, that
occupied four hours, they were invited to rest in the house of one of
the professors, where they were refreshed with a dainty lunch, after
which they returned to the village.
And the evening was spent socially in Mrs. Wheatfield's drawing-room.