Fort Lafayette | Page 4

to be trusted
with the helm, even when the wind blows right smartly, as it sometimes
does even on that now placid stream. But with his memories of the
magnificent Hudson, he was too prone to quiz me about what he called
our pretty rivulet. You know him, do you not?"
"Oh, well. He was Beverly's college-mate and mine, though somewhat
our senior."
"And your warm friend, I believe?"

"Yes, and well worthy our friendship. Somewhat high-tempered and
quick-spoken, but with a heart--like your brother's, Miss Weems, as
generous and frank as a summer day."
"I do not think him high-tempered beyond the requisites of manhood,"
she replied, with something like asperity in her tone. "I cannot endure
your meek, mild mannered men, who seem to forget their sex, and
almost make me long to change my own with them, that their sweet
dispositions may be better placed."
He glanced at her with a somewhat surprised air, that brought a slight
blush to her cheek; but he seemed unconscious of it, and said, almost
mechanically:
"And yet, that same high spirit, which you prize so dearly, had, in his
case, almost caused you a severe affliction."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you not heard how curiously Beverly's intimacy with Harold
was brought about? And yet it was not likely that he should have told
you, although I know no harm in letting you know."
She turned toward him with an air of attention, as if in expectation.
"It was simply this. Not being class-mates, they had been almost
strangers to each other at college, until, by a mere accident, an
argument respecting your Southern institutions led to an angry dispute,
and harsh words passed between them. Being both of the ardent
temperament you so much admire, a challenge ensued, and, in spite of
my entreaty and remonstrance, a duel. Your brother was seriously
wounded, and Harold, shocked beyond expression, knelt by his side as
he lay bleeding on the sward, and bitterly accusing himself, begged his
forgiveness, and, I need not add, received it frankly. Harold was
unremitting in his attentions to your brother during the period of his
illness, and from the day of that hostile meeting, the most devoted
friendship has existed between them. But it was an idle quarrel, Miss
Weems, and was near to have cost you an only brother."

She remained silent for a few moments, and was evidently affected by
the recital. Then she spoke, softly as if communing with herself:
"Harold is a brave and noble fellow, and I thank God that he did not kill
my brother!" and a bright tear rolled upon her cheek. She dashed it
away, almost angrily, and glancing steadily at Arthur:
"Do you condemn duelling?"
"Assuredly."
"But what would you have men do in the face of insult? Would you not
have fought under the same provocation?"
"No, nor under any provocation. I hold too sacred the life that God has
given. With God's help, I shall not shed human blood, except in the
strict line of necessity and duty."
"It is evident, sir, that you hold your own life most sacred," she said,
with a curl of her proud lip that was unmistakable.
She did not observe the pallor that overspread his features, nor the
expression, not of anger, but of anguish, that settled upon his face, for
she had turned half away from him, and was gazing vacantly across the
river. There was an unpleasant pause, which was broken by the noise of
voices in alarm near the house, the trampling of hoofs, and the rattle of
wheels.
The carriage had been standing at the door, while Beverly was
arranging some casual business, which delayed him in his rooms.
While the attention of the groom in charge had been attracted by some
freak of his companions, a little black urchin, not over five years of age,
had clambered unnoticed into the vehicle, and seizing the long whip,
began to flourish it about with all his baby strength. The horses, which
were high bred and spirited, had become impatient, and feeling the lash,
started suddenly, jerking themselves free from the careless grasp of the
inattentive groom. The sudden shout of surprise and terror that arose
from the group of idle negroes, startled the animals into a gallop, and
they went coursing, not along the road, but upon the lawn, straight

toward the river bank, which, in the line of their course, was precipitous
and rocky. As Oriana and Arthur turned at the sound, they beheld the
frightened steeds plunging across the lawn, and upon the carriage seat
the little fellow who had caused the mischief was crouching bewildered
and helpless, and screaming with affright. Oriana clasped her hands,
and cried tearfully:
"Oh! poor little Pomp will be killed!"
In