Grace Dawson [pp. 106-111]

APPLETON-S' JO UR_NAL OF POPULAR
tell why the impulse to confide to her aunt the secret of her father's
death-bed, was repressed. We only know that the secret was not
then told.
The long-expected commencement occasion at length arrived, and
the Wilde family, Grace included, were in Boston. Bunker-Hill
Monument had been climbed, and the sights of Washington and Tre mont Streets had been exhausted, and, on the eventful day when cousin
John was to deliver his maiden speech, Grace was one of the happiest
of the party driving across the bridge to Cambridge.
One set of collegiate exercises is too much like all others, to merit
description, and fans, summer toilets, and cool beauty in muslin,-in ter-checkered with male humanity, perspiring and in mourning, were the prominent features of the audience. John Wilde had gradu ated with high honor, and had a composition in Latin, besides a bril liant speech, in which he glowingly pictured the progress of civilization;
and the useful and fine arts, during the past century. Snowy hand kerchiefs waved at its close, and there was the soft pattering of kid
gloves at the telling passages-the refinement of applause, as if the
hands kissed in ecstasy.
One pale student, however, divided the attention won by this popu lar young gentleman. He had none of the confidence or city manner
that made others graceful, and his attire betrayed the fact that he
patronized other than fashionable tailors. His theme was elcquenee,
and he seemed not so much to describe and define it as to feel
it.
At the close, when he bent forward in that indescribable approach
by which the greatest advocates are wont to magnetize their juries,
and his eye seemed to rest unconsciously on the form of a venerable
clergyman, known and loved in all New England, his words were
so impressive as to start tears to more than one bright eye.
"Eloquence, like genius, is not acquired, but born. Its subject
may partake of the smell of the lamp, and the labor of the laboratory
or the office; and it may borrow much from action and from cultiva tion. Yet-more intangible than air, and more subtle than the
lightning-it may rise beyond the preparation, the occasion, and the
inspiration, and speak from the eye, melt from the tongue, and glow
from the very presence of the man who feels. As for her chosen and
peculiar home, it is the pulpit. The senate and the rostrum may lure
her with the golden pomp of earthly honors, but, in the sacred oratory
of the pulpit, the voice of true eloquence speaks in nobler accents and
more fervid tones than ever startled the Grecian Ecclesia or shook
the Roman Forum.'There stands the legate of the skies, his theme
divine, his office sacred, his credentials clear. By him, the violated
law speaks out its thunders; and through him, in tones as sweet as
angels use, the gospel whispers peace!'"
There was no applause to follow this, but there was sympathy and
feeling.
The next day her cousin John invited Grace to a sail with him on
the bay, in a boat belonging to one of his Boston classmates; and she
thought him wondrously improved, with his air of mature manhood,
and his delicate and unusual courtesies to her.
She was ready to accept his apology for his parents, that they
were only now realizing that she was no longer a child; but she was
utterly overwhelmed by his florid avowal of a love for her as old as
his memory, and his declaration that his parents had long hoped for
the union. They were not full cousins, which he was thankful for, as
some were opposed to family intermarriages, and, if she would only
consent, the love-home pictured by the pretended prince, as he told
Pauline, of the Lake of Como, would be poor to that this Claude Melnotte would conjure up for her.
She listened in surprise, but accepted him in the matter-of-course
kind of a way in which she had always obeyed rather than granted
his requests. That the brilliant and handsome John Wilde should
ever fancy her, was as astounding as if some fairy had suddenly gifted
her with his clear complexion, hazel eyes, and brown curls. He was
too rich to care for her little ten thousand; too popular with lovely
women to be attracted by her moderate good looks, and, while she
could not understand it, she thought her father would be pleased, if he
knew it. This must be all for love.
Much as this new theme must have interested her, it did not prevent the rather sudden and mal-d-propos question,-" Who was that
young student who spoke yesterday on eloquence?" He looked
annoyed, but replied, "His name is Richard Vane. He is a poor fel:low educated by some Southern church for the ministry, and had been
to some Southern schools, and two years in a theological seminary
there, before he came to Harvard. He will spend his life on a salary
as poor as one of his own church mice, but might make a passable
lawyer if he was not bent on preaching at once."
He then changed the subject to his own prospects, and said he had
half a mind to go South himself, and buy a plantation among the
broken-down chivalry. She laughed at that, and the sail was soon
terminated by a return to their hotel, and preparations for a return to
Philadelphia.
Much to her delight, the subject of the engagement was little
spoken of, after the kisses and embraces of her uncle, aunt, and
cousins, and her rather decided refusal to consummate the marriage
under a year from that time. Her lover was a faithful escort to
places of amusement, stood by her when she sang, and drove out
with her often; but was not over demonstrative, and she liked him
better for that. The fact of her betrothal was made public among the
friends of the family, but that )gas not needed to bind either her or him
to the promise made on Boston Bay. Her word once given was final,
as if the solemn "Until death doth you part" had been spoken at the
altar; while, had he expressed a wish to break the engagement, it
would have seemed more natural and proper than the marriage, and, as
ever since childhood, she would have expected John to have his own
way.
That worthy individual seemed to have impressed himself by the
words, uttered in jest, as to becoming a planter in the South, and, after
various sportive renewals of the subject, a serious talk was one day
had with his father, and then it was announced that he was, in truth,
going to the land of sugar-cane and cotton.
Mr. Wilde, Sr., remarked at the breakfast table, after this announcement, "I shall give John ten thousand dollars to start with, Grace, so
as to make him equal to you."
She thought of what a pleasant surprise she would have for all of
them, some day, but only said, "Thank you sir."
In another week, there was a very lover-like parting from her, and
John was gone. He wrote first from Savannah, on his way to the
orange plantations on the St. John's River in Florida. Then he
was in Alabama and in Mississippi. Then in Tennessee, and finally
enamored with the grand scenery and fertile lands in that part of
Georgia bordering on Tennessee. There he bought a finely-improved
farm rather than plantation, for it was above the region of cotton, and
in that of wheat and corn. He described it as a rural paradise, but
sadly in need of repair and attention. He must stay there to see to
these, and insisted that his mother, Grace, and Irene, should come
down and regulate his bachelor establishment, if Fanny would keep
house for his father until Christmas. The beautiful blonde, his sister
Fan, was as pleased at the prospect of the reins of domestic government in her own hands, for a month or two, as the brilliant brunette
Irene, and the other two, were with going, and the arrangement was
made. With characteristic Yankee independence the three ladies expressed their baggage to Dalton, where the gentleman was to meet
them, and took the cars with no escort.
After some little amusement from the frequent question, if they
were coming South to teach the freedmen schools-to which Irene invariably answered, yes —they arrived in safety, and at once packed
themselves and trunks into the four-horse spring wagon, which was to
be their conveyance for the remaining twenty-five miles, and their
church and pleasure carriage when there. A happier party never
awoke the echoes of rock and mountain with silvery laughter, or
bathed flushed and rosy faces in crystal roadside springs. Even
quiet little "domestic Grace," as her lover called her, wore out a pair
of new shoes climbing the mossy rocks and exploring the vine-obstructed valleys, and looked as blooming as the country lasses.
Happy girlhood! its seasons are all hung full of the May-time, and
autumn and winter bring no shadows for them, until the summer of
life has withered the blossoms of their gladsome spring.
What if the grand old southern forests seemed anticipating the
frosts not yet come? the changing hues of the leaves, and glowing
splendor of the mosses, only gave color and variety to the garlands of
hope they wove.
It was night when our quartette arrived at the Southern investment
-i. e., John's new home-and the ladies were too tired to see more
than a cottage in a large yard before they sought repose and slumber,
after the supper of corn-bread, ham and eggs, with tea. But, the next
morning, Grace and all the others fully endorsed the rather enthusias
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