Part 40 (2/2)
The effect of this information was a gradual but grievous extinction of the slight hope which Herbert had conceived.
The circ.u.mstances with which chance had now surrounded him may have rendered these regrets less painful. Though his cousin cared not for him, he had no reason to feel forsaken or forlorn. By his side--and almost constantly by his side--was beauty of no common brilliance, showering smiles upon him of no ordinary attractiveness.
Had he been the recipient of those smiles only one day sooner--before the image of Kate Vaughan had made that slight impression upon his heart--he might the more readily have yielded to their influence. And, perhaps, on the other hand, could he have known how _his_ image had fallen upon her heart, and made lodgment there, he might have offered a sterner resistance to the syren seductions with which he was now beset.
But lovers' hearts are not things of gla.s.s; and though at times they resemble mirrors, mentally reflecting each other, too often, by the ruling of contrarieties, do the mirrors become reversed and with the reflecting images facing darkly inward.
In such a dilemma was the heart of Herbert Vaughan. No wonder he found a difficulty in effecting its a.n.a.lysis!
In a condition somewhat similar to Herbert's was the heart of his cousin: though hers was easier to a.n.a.lyse. It was simply trembling under the influence of a first and virgin love. Two forms had been presented to it in the same hour, both in the blush of youthful manhood--one, a distinguished gentleman, the other, an humble adventurer.
The former had the additional advantage in priority of introduction; the latter was not even introduced. But the favourite does not always win.
The earliest on the course may be the latest in the race; and though the heart of the young Creole, on its pure virgin page, had received love's image at first sight, it was not that of him who first presented himself to make the impression.
Nor was she kept in ignorance of outward events. Her maid Yola was the medium by which she was acquainted with them. Through this medium she had heard of Herbert's proximity--of his happiness and prosperity. The news would have given her joy, but that she had heard he was _too happy_. Strange that this should be a cause of bitterness!
The thoughts that succeeded--the hopes and fears--the dark doubts by day and by night--the dreams, often delusively bright--need not be detailed.
There are none who have not known a first love; few who have not felt this chequered alternation of emotions.
As for the distinguished Smythje, he was not always in one mind. He, too, was troubled with an alternation of hopes and fears. The former, however, generally predominated; and, for the most part, he felt in his spirit the proud confidence of a conqueror. Often, with Thoms as his audience, might Smythje be heard exultingly repeating the despatch of Caesar:--”_Veni, vidi, vici_!”
Volume Two, Chapter X.
IN SEARCH OF JUSTICE.
The mutual spite between planter and penn-keeper was of old standing-- dating, in fact, from their first acquaintance with each other. Some sharp practice between them, in the sale and purchase of slaves, had given origin to it; and circ.u.mstances were always occurring to hinder it from dying out. This was more especially the case since the Jew, by the purchase of the Happy Valley estate, had become the contiguous neighbour--and, in point of wealth, almost the rival--of the proprietor of Mount Welcome.
On the side of the Custos there had been for some time past another feeling mixed up with his antipathy to his Israelitish neighbour--a vague sense of fear. This was of modern origin--dating from a period subsequent to the execution of Chakra, the myal-man--and begotten of some remarks which, as reported to Mr Vaughan, the Jew had made in connection with that ugly incident.
If nothing had of late transpired to increase this fear on the part of the Custos, a circ.u.mstance had arisen to strengthen his hostility. The protection which had been given to his discarded nephew, and the parade which his neighbour was making of him, had proved to the Custos a scandal of the most irksome kind; and almost every day was he made aware of some unpleasant bit of gossip connected with the affair. So irritated had he become with rumours, constantly reaching him, that his hatred for the Jew had grown stronger than ever before; and he would have given a dozen hogsheads of his best _muscovado_ to any one who would have provided him with the means of humiliating the detested penn-keeper.
Just at this crisis, chance or fortune stepped in to favour him, apparently offering the very opportunity he desired; and in a way that, instead of costing him a dozen hogsheads of sugar, was likely to put far more than that amount of property into his pocket.
It was the day before that on which Smythje had dropped into the dead-wood. The Custos was in his kiosk alone, smoking a plantation cigar, and conning over the statutes of the ”black code”--a favourite study with him. Just at that moment Mr Trusty's shadow was projected into the summer-house. ”Well, Trusty, what is it?”
”There's a man below wants to see your wors.h.i.+p.”
”On what business, pray?”
”Don't know,” answered the laconic overseer; ”he won't tell. Says it's important, and can only communicate to yourself.”
”What sort of a man is he? Negro or white?”
”Neither, your wors.h.i.+p. He's a clear mulatto. I've seen him about before. He's one of the Maroons that have their settlement over among the Trelawney Hills. He calls himself Cubina.”
”Ah!” said the Custos, showing a slight emotion as the name was p.r.o.nounced; ”Cubina! Cubina! I've heard the name. I fancy I've seen the man--at a distance. A young fellow, isn't he?”
”Very young; though they say he's the captain of the Trelawney band.”
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