Chapter III

After a substantial meal had been despatched, our travellers repaired to the livery-stable, to inspect in person the condition of their horses. The establishment was lighted with a single lamp, swung in the centre of the building. The approach of the two young gentlemen was not therefore immediately noticed by old Cato and another groom (who proved to be the coachman of the equipage they had left on the road), as they were busily engaged in rubbing down their horses, the dialogue between them was not brought to a close at once.

"Who did you say the gentleman was?" said old Cato.

"His name is Brumley," replied coachee.

"And the young lady is his daughter, I suppose?" continued Cato.

"Oh! as to that, I cannot say," continued coachee, "but I believe she is only his step-daughter; they calls her Miss Fanny St. Clair, and sometimes of late the old gentleman calls her Mrs. Frances; but between you and me and the horse-stall, there is some strange things about this family; I rather guess that Sukey, the maid up yonder, could tell us something that would make us open our eyes, if she was not so confounded close; all that I know about it is, that the harsh old gentleman sometimes gives her a talk in the carriage that throws her a'most into a faintin' spell. But I could never see into it, not I; I don't somehow believe in all these little hurrahs the women kicks up just for pastime."

Our travellers did not think proper to listen further to the gossip of the grooms, and having executed their business at the livery, they retraced their steps to the splendid establishment at which they had put up. Notwithstanding the doubtful source from which Chevillere had gained his latest information concerning the singularly interesting young lady whom they had seen at the inn, it made its impression. Corrupt indeed must be that channel of information relative to a beautiful and attractive female, apparently in distress, which will not find an auditor in the person of a sensitive young man just emancipated from college. On such occasions, and with such persons, the credibility of all witnesses is the same, and the most improbable tale is taken at once, and made the foundation of a whole train of reveries, dreams, and plans.

It is not to be denied that Victor Chevillere had worked his imagination up to a very romantic height, and had allowed his curiosity concerning the youthful lady to reach such a pitch that little else gave occupation to his fancies.

He was in this state of mind, leisurely marking time with lazy steps, and in an abstracted mood, as he ascended the grand staircase of the establishment, when his attention was again riveted by the sound of the lady's voice in earnest entreaty with the old gentleman.

"Consider, my dear Frances," said the latter, "that your health is now nearly re-established, and that these are subjects that you must dwell upon; why not, therefore, become accustomed to it at once?"

"For heaven's sake! for my dear mother's! never, sir, mention that fearful marriage, and more fearful death to me again! Why should I recall hideous and frightful dreams!"

Chevillere was compelled to move on, but it must be confessed that his steps were slower than before; and it may be readily imagined, that his fancy and his curiosity were not much allayed by the shreds of conversation which he had involuntarily overheard. When he had ascended to his own apartment, and could indulge freely in that bachelor recreation of pacing to and fro, the two words still involuntarily quickened his movements whenever they flashed through his mind---"marriage" and "death" were words of opposite import certainly, viewed in the abstract, and we doubt whether he had ever connected them together before;---"Fearful marriage! and more fearful death!" what could it mean? to whom could they refer? Only one of them could refer to her, that was certain; who then was married and died so fearfully? Ah! thought he, I have it! her mother has married this old man, and died suddenly; and he has got the fortune of both in his hands! Suspicious circumstance! If fortune puts it in my power, I will watch him narrowly! I disliked his countenance from the first!--must be cool, however, and deliberate--must watch--and wait! pshaw, what am I at! Thus ended Victor Chevillere's solution of the enigma, when Lamar stepped into the room and disturbed his revery.

"What! still musing, Chevillere. By my troth, she must be a witch; but it will be glorious news to write to our friend Beverly Randolph, of old Virginia. What say you? Shall I sit down and indite an epistle? Let me see--how do such narratives generally begin? Cupid, and darts, and arrows--blind of an eye--shot right through the vitals of a poor innocent youth that never did him any harm--never was struck before--covered with a panoply, and shield, and armour, and all that; and then worship prostrate before the shrine; and vows, and tears, and tokens; and then the dart is taken out--and the wound heals up--and then--'Richard's himself again!' What say you to that, or rather what would Randolph say to that, think you?"

"He would say that Augustus Lamar was still the same mirth-loving fellow, without regard to time or place."

"Then it is a serious affair, and too true to make a joke of! Well, then I have done! She's a beautiful young creature, it is true; but then from what I had seen of your cold philosophy, I did not think you were the man to be slain at first sight, and surrender at discretion before a single charge."

"I will acknowledge to you, Lamar, that my curiosity is most painfully excited with regard to that unhappy young lady, but nothing more, I assure you. Some facts have, without my seeking, come to my knowledge, with which you are entirely unacquainted, and which have tended greatly to increase that curiosity. I cannot at this time explain; as soon as my own mind is satisfied on the subject, my confidence shall not be withheld from you."

"Lovers are truly a singular set of mortals---here is a young lady (and a Yankee too, perhaps) of some dozen hours' acquaintance, and with whom you have never exchanged a dozen words; and yet you are already entrusted with profound secrets, which excite you in the most painful manner!"

"Come, come, Lamar, I see you are determined to misunderstand me. Let us drop the subject. What do you think of the Kentuckian?"

"I think he is an admirable fellow; and I intend to patronise him; and induct him into fashionable life; but do you think his singularities are the natural products of the life, manners, and climate of Kentucky?"

"I cannot decide whether there is much in him that is peculiar to Kentucky. Some of the most elegant and accomplished gentleman I have seen were natives of that state."

"He takes a laugh at his expense admirably."

"He does, but you must be careful not to exceed the limits he has laid down for himself and us, in that respect. For my own part, I entertain a serious respect for Damon and his unsophisticated honesty, degenerating, as it sometimes does, into prejudices and ludicrous fancies."

"Good night, and pleasant dreams to you. I will call early to interpret them for you."

As Lamar closed the door, Chevillere drew from his pocket a little basket segar-case, from which he extracted a genuine Havana, and lighting a taper at the candle, and throwing himself into one of those easy attitudes familiar to smokers, with his head back, and his eyes closed, gave himself up to those absorbing reveries, generally delightful in proportion to the goodness of the segar, which a southern knows so well how to enjoy. To be fully relished, segars should be resorted to only in the evening, and then in moderation. The sensibility is blunted by excess, and in that case, tobacco, like the intoxicating drinks, will sometimes conjure up frightful images upon the wall of a dimly-lighted chamber, or among the embers of a dying fire. Victor, however, had not converted his capacity for enjoyment into fruitful sources of mental and physical suffering---he sat for a long time gently throwing the fragrant results of his efforts into various columns, wreaths, and pyramids. Not that his mind dwelt upon these things for a moment; he was far distant in spirit; his imagination was calling up delightful dreams of love and friendship, with thoughts of a beloved cousin, of his friend and room-mate Beverley Randolph--his mother, his home, and the scenes of his childhood, and finally, of the lady of the black mantle. He beheld airy castles,--romantic adventures,--bridal scenes--and flowers,--assemblies,--parties,--and the high hills of the Santee.

Aladdin's lamp never wrought more rich and highly-coloured scenes of enchantment than did this same Havana; but the most pleasant dream must come to an end, as well as the richest flavoured segar--and so did Chevillere's. Tossing the little hot remnant from him with a passionate jerk, as if in anger at the insensible cause of his interruption, he bounced into the centre of the floor and began to pace to and fro, in his accustomed mood, clenching his fists now and then, and by his whole appearance showing a perfect contrast to the calm and delightful revery attendant upon the first stage of tobacco intoxication.

In this mood we shall leave him to seek his rest, while we recount in the next chapter what farther befel our late collegians on the following morning.