The Two Admirals. Джеймс Фенимор Купер
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on Tom’s sinister-looking face; “and we have never known any thing to cause us to think he would bear a name – or names – that he does not at least think he has a right to.”
This was said gently, but so distinctly, that every word entered fairly into Tom Wychecombe’s soul; who threw a quick, suspicious glance at the lovely speaker, as if to ascertain how far she intended any allusion to himself. Meeting with no other expression than that of generous interest, he recovered his self-command, and made his reply with sufficient coolness.
“Upon my word, Mrs. Dutton,” he cried, laughing; “we young men will all of us have to get over the cliff, and hang dangling at the end of a rope, in order to awaken an interest in Miss Mildred, to defend us when our backs are turned. So eloquent – and most especially, so lovely, so charming an advocate, is almost certain of success; and my uncle and myself must admit the absent gentleman’s right to our name; though, heaven be praised, he has not yet got either the title or the estate.”
“I hope I have said nothing, Sir Wycherly, to displease you,” returned Mildred, with emphasis; though her face was a thousand times handsomer than ever, with the blushes that suffused it. “Nothing would pain me more, than to suppose I had done so improper a thing. I merely meant that we cannot believe Mr. Wycherly Wychecombe would willingly take a name he had no right to.”
“My little dear,” said the baronet, taking the hand of the distressed girl, and kissing her cheek, as he had often done before, with fatherly tenderness; “it is not an easy matter for you to offend me; and I’m sure the young fellow is quite welcome to both my names, if you wish him to have ‘em.”
“And I merely meant, Miss Mildred,” resumed Tom, who feared he might have gone too far; “that the young gentleman – quite without any fault of his own – is probably ignorant how he came by two names that have so long pertained to the head of an ancient and honourable family. There is many a young man born, who is worthy of being an earl, but whom the law considers – “ here Tom paused to choose terms suitable for his auditor, when the baronet added,
“A filius nullius – that’s the phrase, Tom – I had it from your own father’s mouth.”
Tom Wychecombe started, and looked furtively around him, as if to ascertain who suspected the truth. Then he continued, anxious to regain the ground he feared he had lost in Mildred’s favour.
“Filius nullius means, Miss Mildred, exactly what I wish to express; a family without any legal origin. They tell me, however, that in the colonies, nothing is more common than for people to take the names of the great families at home, and after a while they fancy themselves related.”
“I never heard Mr. Wycherly Wychecombe say a word to lead us to suppose that he was, in any manner, connected with this family, sir,” returned Mildred, calmly, but quite distinctly.
“Did you ever hear him say he was not, Miss Mildred?”
“I cannot say I ever did, Mr. Wychecombe. It is a subject that has seldom been introduced in my hearing.”
“But it has often been introduced in his! I declare, Sir Wycherly, it has struck me as singular, that while you and I have so very frequently stated in the presence of this gentleman, that our families are in no way connected, he has never, in any manner, not even by a nod or a look of approbation, assented to what he must certainly know to be the case. But I suppose, like a true colonist, he was unwilling to give up his hold on the old stock.”
Here the entrance of Sir Gervaise Oakes changed the discourse. The vice-admiral joined the party in good spirits, as is apt to be the case with men who have been much occupied with affairs of moment, and who meet relaxation with a consciousness of having done their duty.
“If one could take with him to sea, the comforts of such a house as this, Sir Wycherly, and such handsome faces as your own, young lady,” cried Sir Gervaise, cheerfully, after he had made his salutations; “there would be an end of our exclusiveness, for every petit maître of Paris and London would turn sailor, as a matter of course. Six months in the Bay of Biscay gives an old fellow, like myself, a keen relish for these enjoyments, as hunger makes any meat palatable; though I am far, very far, indeed, from putting this house or this company, on a level with an indifferent feast, even for an epicure.”
“Such as it is, Sir Gervaise, the first is quite at your service, in all things,” rejoined the host; “and the last will do all in its power to make itself agreeable.”
“Ah – here comes Bluewater to echo all I have said and feel. I am telling Sir Wycherly and the ladies, of the satisfaction we grampuses experience when we get berthed under such a roof as this, with woman’s sweet face to throw a gleam of happiness around her.”
Admiral Bluewater had already saluted the mother, but when his eye fell on the face and person of Mildred, it was riveted, for an instant, with an earnestness and intentness of surprise and admiration that all noted, though no one saw fit to comment on it.
“Sir Gervaise is so established an admirer of the sex,” said the rear-admiral, recovering himself, after a pause; “that I am never astonished at any of his raptures. Salt water has the usual effect on him, however; for I have now known him longer than he might wish to be reminded of, and yet the only mistress who can keep him true, is his ship.”
“And to that I believe I may be said to be constant. I don’t know how it is with you, Sir Wycherly, but every thing I am accustomed to I like. Now, here I have sailed with both these gentlemen, until I should as soon think of going to sea without a binnacle, as to go to sea without ‘em both – hey! Atwood? Then, as to the ship, my flag has been flying in the Plantagenet these ten years, and I can’t bear to give the old craft up, though Bluewater, here, would have turned her over to an inferior after three years’ service. I tell all the young men they don’t stay long enough in any one vessel to find out her good qualities. I never was in a slow ship yet.”
“For the simple reason that you never get into a fast one, that you do not wear her fairly out, before you give her up. The Plantagenet, Sir Wycherly, is the fastest two-decker in His Majesty’s service, and the vice-admiral knows it too well to let any of us get foot in her, while her timbers will hang together.”
“Let it be so, if you will; it only shows, Sir Wycherly, that I do not choose my friends for their bad qualities. But, allow me to ask, young lady, if you happen to know a certain Mr. Wycherly Wychecombe – a namesake, but no relative, I understand, of our respectable host – and one who holds a commission in His Majesty’s service?”
“Certainly, Sir Gervaise,” answered Mildred, dropping her eyes to the floor, and trembling, though she scarce knew why; “Mr. Wychecombe has been about here, now, for some months, and we all know something of him.”
“Then, perhaps you can tell me whether he is generally a loiterer on duty. I do not inquire whether he is a laggard in his duty to you, but whether, mounted on a good hunter, he could get over twenty miles, in eight or ten hours, for instance?”
“I think Sir Wycherly would tell you that he could, sir.”
“He may be a Wychecombe, Sir Wycherly, but he is no Plantagenet, in the way of sailing. Surely the young gentleman ought to have returned some hours since!”
“It’s quite surprising to me that he is not back before this,” returned the kind-hearted baronet. “He is active, and understands himself, and there is not a better horseman in the county – is there, Miss Mildred?”
Mildred did not think it necessary to reply to this direct appeal; but spite of the manner in which she had been endeavouring to school her feelings, since the accident on the cliff, she could not prevent the deadly paleness that dread of some accident had produced, or the rush of colour to her cheeks that followed from the unexpected question of Sir Wycherly. Turning to conceal her confusion, she met the eye of Tom Wychecombe riveted on her face, with an expression so sinister, that it caused her to tremble. Fortunately, at this moment, Sir Gervaise turned away, and drawing near his friend, on the other side of the large apartment, he said in an under tone —
“Luckily, Atwood has brought ashore a duplicate of my despatches,