Davenport Dunn, a Man of Our Day. Volume 2. Lever Charles James
make out is, she has no blank days,” said Beecher. “She was just as you saw her there, the whole time we were at Aix; and while she’s rattling away at the piano, and going on with all manner of fun, just ask her a serious question, – I don’t care about what, – and she’ll answer you as if she had been thinking of nothing else for the whole day before.”
“Had she been born in your rank of life, Beecher, where would she be be now, – tell me that?” said Davis; and there was an almost fierce energy in the words as he spoke them.
“I can tell you one thing,” cried Beecher, in a transport of delight, – “there’s no rank too high for her this minute.”
“Well said, boy, – well said,” exclaimed Davis, warmly; “and here’s to her health.”
“That generous toast and cheer must have been in honor of myself,” said Lizzy, peeping in at the window, “and in acknowledgment I beg to invite you both to tea.”
CHAPTER IX. A SAUNTER BY MOONLIGHT
Lizzy Davis had retired to her room somewhat weary after the day’s journey, not altogether unexcited by her meeting with her father. How was it that there was a gentleness, almost a tenderness, in his manner she had never known before? The short, stern address, the abrupt question, the stare piercing and defiant of one who seemed ever to distrust what he heard, were all replaced by a tone of quiet and easy confidence, and a look that bespoke perfect trustfulness.
“Have I only seen him hitherto in moments of trial and excitement; are these the real traits of his nature; is it the hard conflict of life calls forth the sterner features of his character; and might he, in happier circumstances, be ever kind and confiding, as I see him now?” What a thrill of ecstasy did the thought impart! What a realization of the home she had often dreamed of! “He mistakes me, too,” said she, aloud, “if he fancies that my heart is set upon some high ambition. A life of quiet obscurity, in some spot peaceful and unknown as this, would suffice for all my wishes. I want no triumphs, – I covet no rivalries.” A glance at herself in the glass at this moment sent the deep color to her cheek, and she blushed deeply. Was it that those bright, flashing eyes, that fair and haughty brow, and those lips tremulous with proud significance gave a denial to these words? Indeed, it seemed as much, for she quickly added, “Not that I would fly the field, or ingloriously escape the struggle – Who’s there?” cried she, quickly, as a low tap came to the door.
“It is I, Lizzy. I heard you still moving about, and I thought I ‘d propose half an hour’s stroll in the moonlight before bed. What do you say to it?”
“I should like it of all things, papa,” cried she, opening the door at once.
“Throw a shawl across your shoulders, child,” said he; “the air is not always free from moisture. We ‘ll go along by the river-side.”
A bright moon in a sky without a cloud lit up the landscape, and by the strongly marked contrast of light and shadow imparted a most striking effect to a scene wild, broken, and irregular. Fantastically shaped rocks broke the current of the stream; at every moment gnarled and twisted roots straggled along the shelving banks, and in the uncertain light assumed goblin shapes and forms, the plashing stream, as it rushed by, appearing to give motion to the objects around. Nor was the semblance all unreal, for here and there a pliant branch rose and fell on the surging water like the arm of some drowning swimmer.
The father and daughter walked along for some time in utter silence, and the thoughts of each filled with the scene before them. Lizzy fancied it was a conflict of river gods, – some great Titanic war, where angry giants were the combatants; or again, as fairer forms succeeded, they seemed a group of nymphs bathing in the soft moonlight. As for Grog, it reminded him of a row at Ascot, where the swell-mob smashed the police; and so strikingly did it call up the memory of the event that he laughed aloud and heartily.
“Do tell me what you are laughing at, papa,” said she, entreatingly.
“It was something that I saw long ago, – something I was reminded of by those trees yonder, bobbing up and down with the current.”
“But what was it?” asked she, more eagerly; for even yet the memory kept him laughing.
“Nothing that could interest you, girl,” said he, bluntly; and then, as if ashamed of the rudeness of his speech, he added, “Though I have seen a good deal of life, Lizzy, there’s but little of it I could recall for either your benefit or instruction.”
Lizzy was silent; she wished him to speak on, but did not choose to question him. Strangely enough, too, though be shunned the theme, he had been glad if she had led him on to talk of it.
After a long pause he sighed heavily, and said: “I suppose every one, if truth were told, would have rather a sad tale to tell of the world when he comes to my age. It don’t improve upon acquaintance, I promise you. Not that I want to discourage you about it, my girl. You ‘ll come to my way of thinking one of these days, and it will be quite soon enough.”
“And have you really found men so false and worthless as you say?”
“I’ll tell you in one word the whole story, Lizzy. The fellows that are born to a good station and good property are all fair and honest, if they like it; the rest of the world must be rogues, whether they like it or not.”
“This is a very disenchanting picture you put before me.” “Here ‘s how it is, girl,” said he, warming with his subject. “Every man in the world is a gambler; let him rail against dice, racing, cards, or billiards, he has a game of his own in his heart, and he’s playing for a seat in the Cabinet, a place in the colonies, a bishopric, or the command of a regiment. The difference is, merely, that your regular play-man admits chance into his calculations, the other fellows don’t; they pit pure skill against the table, and trust to their knowledge of the game.”
She sighed deeply, but did not speak.
“And the women are the same,” resumed he: “some scheming to get their husbands high office, some intriguing for honors or Court favor; all of them ready to do a sharp thing, – to make a hit on the Stock Exchange.”
“And are there none above these mean and petty subterfuges?” cried she, indignantly.
“Yes; the few I have told you, – they who come into the world to claim the stakes. They can afford to be high-minded, and generous, and noble-hearted, as much as they please. They are booked ‘all right,’ and need never trouble their heads about the race; and that is the real reason, girl, why these men have an ascendancy over all others. They are not driven to scramble for a place; they have no struggles to encounter; the crowd makes way for them as they want to pass; and if they have anything good, ay, or even good-looking, about them, what credit don’t they get for it!”
“But surely there must be many a lowly walk where a man with contentment can maintain himself honorably and even proudly?”
“I don’t know of them, if there be,” said Davis, sulkily. “Lawyers, parsons, merchants, are all, I fancy, pretty much alike, – all on ‘the dodge.’”
“And Beecher, – poor Beecher?” broke in Lizzy. And there was a blended pity and tenderness in the tone that made it very difficult to say what her question really implied.
“Why do you call him poor Beecher?” asked he, quickly. “He ain’t so poor in one sense of the word.”
“It was in no allusion to his fortune I spoke. I was thinking of him solely with reference to his character.”
“And he is poor Beecher, is he, then?” asked Davis, half sternly.
If she did not reply, it was rather in the fear of offending her father, whose manner, so suddenly changing, apprised her of an interest in the subject she had never suspected.
“Look here, Lizzy,” said he, drawing her arm more closely to his side, while he bespoke her attention; “men born in Beecher’s class don’t need to be clever; they have no necessity for the wiles and schemes and subtleties that – that fellows like myself, in short, must practise. What they