Chapter VI

"I tell you I love him dearly,
And he loves me well I know;
It seems as if I could nearly
Eat him up, I love him so."

"Well, sis, how do you like New Orleans?" asked Wayland Morris of his sister Winnie, as he entered her quiet little study-chamber one evening after the toil of the day was over.

"O, I like it well enough, Wayland," she answered; "that is, I like my boarding-place here with Mrs. Pulsifer, I like my dear, kind teacher, Aunt Debby, and I like my playmates."

"And is there anything you do not like, my sister?" asked Wayland, observing she hesitated.

"Yes, two things."

"What are they?"

"First, I don't like to have you work so hard to support me in idleness."

"In idleness, Winnie?"

"Yes, or what is just the same thing, I mean earning nothing to support myself. I could learn some trade, and thus obtain money sufficient for all my wants, and give you some, too, if you would but let me do it."

"My brave little sis," said Wayland, drawing her to his bosom, "have I not told you that when you have acquired an education, you can become a teacher, which will surely prove an occupation more congenial to your taste, and by it you can gain an ample competence for all immediate necessities?"

"But it will take a great deal of money to procure an education," said Winnie, looking doubtfully in her brother's face.

"Not a very great deal, my prudent little sis," laughed Wayland, "and I can easily furnish you with the sum needful."

"And, when I'm a teacher, will you let me repay all you have expended on me?"

"Yes, yes, if that will put your mind at rest."

"Ah, but I fear it will be beyond my power to repay _all_ you are expending on your foolish little sis! You are growing thin and pale, brother, and you have none of the joyous spring and laughter with which you used to chase my pretty fawns away up there on the green shores of Tennessee."

"I am older and graver now, Winnie; besides, I often think of our dear mother, sleeping there in death's embrace, and of our being orphans in the wide world."

"O, it is very sad, brother!" said the young girl, bursting into tears.

"Do not weep so bitterly," said Wayland, endeavoring to soothe her grief; "you said there were two things you did not like. I have dispensed with one; now tell me the other."

"O, never mind that now!" said Winnie, quickly; "assist me in my Algebra lesson, there's a good brother."

"Yes, after you have told me what I have asked."

"Well, it is a foolish thing, you will say. You know Jack Camford?"

"Yes; do you?" inquired Wayland in surprise.

"He comes to our school this term," said Winnie, demurely.

"And he is the other thing you do not like, is he?"

"Why, no, brother; he is not a thing, is he?"

"Well, perhaps not; but what is it you do not like?"

"Why, I don't like to have the girls tease me, and say he comes to our school just to see me," said Winnie, averting her face.

Wayland's brow darkened at these words, and he was some time silent.

"Are you angry, brother?" asked Winnie at length.

"No, Winnie, not angry, but pained. My sister, this young Camford is not a fit person for you to associate with."

"Why not?" exclaimed Winnie.

Wayland gazed in her face, and felt it was time to speak. "Winnie, would you have for a friend the son of a man who robbed your father of his fortune and hurried him into the grave?"

She was silent. "Adieu now, sister," continued Wayland, "I will call and see you to-morrow evening," and with a tender kiss on the soft cheek, he left her in her first young, girlish love-sorrow. Bitterly she charged him with cold, unfeeling cruelty; for she intuitively perceived the drift of those few words. "But was her poor Jack to suffer for his father's errors? No; thrice no! and she longed to lay her head on his bosom and tell him all her sorrows, for he was not stern and cruel, like brother Wayland. No, he loved her dearly, as she loved him."

* * *

"Thunder and Mars! what's to pay now, I wonder?" exclaimed Esq. Camford, rushing pell-mell into the dining room, where his family were assembled at breakfast, and throwing his delicate wife into hysterics.

"O, Thisbe! run for the nerve-reviver," shrieked Mrs. Camford. "O, Adolphus! why will you not regard my tremulous nerves, and not affright me thus? What desperate thing has happened? O, Adolphus! you'll be the death of me."

"I'll be the death of that cursed young vagabond, John Camford," blurted forth the squire, in a tone of terrible rage.

"O, my son, my brilliant among my jewels! how has he incurred your displeasure?" faintly articulated Mrs. Camford.

"Why, I saw the graceless scamp tugging a girl through the French market this morning, filling her hands with bouquets and all sorts of fol-de-rols. There is where the money goes he wheedles out of me every week; but I'll fix the young rapscallion. Next thing, we shall have some creole girl, or mulatto wench introduced to the family as Mrs. Camford, junior."

The squire fairly foamed at the mouth, with anger. His fair consort was in frantic hysterics, beating the floor with her heels, and exclaiming,

"O, mercy, mercy! my son, my Daniel, Henry, Thomas, Lewis, John! my brilliant, among my jewels! O, spare him for the love of Heaven, my husband, my adored Adolphus!"

Thisbe was following her mistress and bobbing the nerve-reviver to her nose, but it failed to produce the usual effect. All the servants in attendance stood with their mouths agape, while the three jewel daughters proceeded quietly with their breakfast, and Alice sat among them, a silent spectator of the scene. And now, as if to cap the climax, in walked the culprit, Mr. Jack Camford, in _propria persona_, looking as unconcerned and innocent as if nothing had occurred to displace him in his father's good graces. At sight of her brilliant son, Mrs. Camford shrieked and fell prostrate on the floor, and Thisbe, in the moment of excitement, seized the senseless form and carried it from the room with as much ease as she would have borne a cotton-bale. No sooner had the door closed on his delicate spouse, than Esq. Camford bellowed forth, "Daniel Henry Thomas Lewis John Camford, you rascal, come and stand before your father!" The son instantly did as commanded. Doffing his "Kossuth," and passing one hand through the long locks of curling black hair, he swept it away from his clear, smooth brow, and stood confronting his wrathful parent with a calm, unembarrassed aspect. He was certainly a handsome young fellow, and Winnie Morris was quite excusable for loving him a little in her girlish heart. The father's anger softened as he gazed on his fair-looking boy, and when he spoke, his voice had lost all its former harshness.

"Jack, my lad," he said, "why do you stand gazing about you thus? Come, and sit down to your breakfast."

"You bade me stand before you, father, therefore I did so," said the son, now approaching the table and assuming a seat beside his cousin Alice.

There were a few moments of silence, during which all were occupied with their meal. At length Esq. Camford inquired, casually enough, "Jack, what young lady was that I saw you with in the French market this morning?"

Jack, at the moment helping Alice to a snipe, answered carelessly, "Young lady? O, Miss Winnie Morris, sister of Wayland Morris, editor of our Literary Gazette."

Alice suddenly dropped her bird on the cloth, and Esq. Camford sprang from the table, and, seizing his hat, bolted from the apartment, overturning two servants in his way, and exclaiming at the top of his voice, "Thunder and Mars! Thunder and Mars!"

Jack burst into a hearty laugh as his father cleared the door, and said, "Was there ever a theatre could equal our house for enacting scenes? Why, Alice, where are you going?" he continued, observing her rise from the table; "stay a moment; will you be disengaged when I come in to dinner? I want a few moments' private conversation with you."

"I shall be at your service, cousin," she answered, closing the door behind her.

"What have you to say to Alice?" inquired Miss Celestina, the "belle and beauty," in a querulous tone; picking at a bunch of flowers that laid beside Josephine's plate.

"O, please don't spoil my flowers, sister!" said Miss Pheny; "they were sent to me this morning by a particular friend."

"Faugh! what particular friend have _you_ got, I wonder?" sneered the beauty; "some foolish love affair afoot here, to rival Jack's, I suppose. Ha, ha! what silly things children are! But come, bubby, tell me what you want with Alice?"

"That's my business," returned the youth proudly.

"To talk about your sweetheart, no doubt, and solicit her sympathy in your love troubles. You'll find father won't have you toting about with this beggar girl, I can tell you!" said the fair Celestina, spitefully.

"She is not a beggar," retorted Jack with flashing eyes, "but a far more beautiful and accomplished lady than many who have had the best advantages of fashionable society."

"O, of course, she is all perfection in your eyes at present," returned the beauty in an aggravating tone, as she rose to retire; "but this day six months I wonder how she will appear to your fickle, capricious gaze?"

"If you were worth a retort, I'd make one," said Jack, with a glance of angry contempt on his sister, as he took his cap and left the apartment.