“It is beyond my comprehension, Alice. I have no desire to be a literary lady, to nib my quill for poetry, and glancing up to the ceiling for inspiration, commence to abuse the innocence of paper; indeed, I am not certain whether my patience would extend to the act of counting my fingers, through the length and breadth of a sonnet.”
“Ah, Katharine,” returned Alice, with an attempt at mock pathos, “you are insensible of the pleasures which a young lady feels when engaged in literary pursuits. The pen in her hand, is the fair fan with which she cools the fervid glow of her imagination and affections. How interesting she appears when she has the requisite strength of mind to banish toys, silks, and dresses, and introduce on her dressing table nothing but long rolls of manuscript! She dreams not of soft whispers, sweet glances, and handsome lovers; but of that nice ode, that sublime epic, or the passionate drama, which she made yesterday. She rises to stare at the sun, frighten the flowers, and overflow the very Thames with ink, on paper. Or should she be an astronomer, how becoming for a young lady to use a telescope, instead of a quizzing glass!”
She then searched the desk, and discovering some rude drafts of verses, addressed to “a lady,” inquired of Katharine whether she had yet obtained a fair copy of them. For a time she was as mischievous as usual; but all her sport was evidently feigned. In the midst of it, at length, she became silent, and snatching up a light, hurried to the clock, and instantly returned pale and breathless.
“Katharine!” she exclaimed, while she grasped her hands, “it is but a few minutes from midnight! He has become a traitor to his home and his country. I have stopped the clock, that whenever he returns, it may not disgrace him. Near midnight, and he absent,—and at such a time, when all our fears are excited by rebellion!”
Her companion, who was, naturally, of a firmer and more heroic cast of mind, attempted to console her, although she needed one to perform the same kindly office for herself.
“Nay, dear Alice, your brother is loyal.”
“Is that loyal?” she returned with a shriek, as her eye glanced over some of her brother’s papers, where the Pretender’s name was mentioned in glowing terms of admiration. “I knew it. James has long admired Prince Charles Edward, and frequently, when no subjects but those nearest to our hearts have been introduced, he has spoken so feelingly of the royal youth’s exile in France. When the news of his landing in Scotland reached us, an involuntary exclamation escaped James, and he prayed for his safety, aye, even for his success. Nay, I cannot divine any other motive for his absence from the University, than to obtain leisure to watch the progress of the Prince, and, at a fitting time, to join his standard. But hush, let us be cheerful, for I hear my father’s footsteps, and he is impatient at my brother’s absence.”
The old man entered. Katharine Norton rose to meet him, and he addressed her kindly, as was his wont. But the smoothness of his manner soon disappeared. In person, Dr. Dawson was tall and thin, though very much bowed down by age, but now his form became erect. He had a lofty forehead, on which a few white locks were sprinkled. His hands were palsied, but now, by the strength of his feelings, they were nerved, and he stood forth, firm and collected. He had dark eyes, which had not lost the fire of his youth; and which seemed to become brighter and brighter, by looking at his gold. He was not altogether a miser, for he, as we have already stated, loved his children occasionally, and even displayed bursts of tenderness and affection; but his idols must be of gold, as well as of flesh and blood. Ever since he was married, pretty fingers must have gold rings, before he could admire them, and in his profession, he had often been prevented from feeling the pulse for some time, so much absorbed was his attention by the diamonds which glittered.
After addressing Katharine, he turned to his daughter, “Alice, where is your brother, has he not returned yet? I must wait for him, considerate youth, although these aged limbs should long ere now, have been reposing on my couch! I have no staff but this cane, and money bought it. Money can do any thing but make children obedient, except to close a parent’s eyes, and that they gladly attend to. Come, affectionate youth, and see me die!” and he laughed hysterically, in scorn and anger.
The two ladies supported and caressed him fondly, compelled him to sit down, and almost smothered him with kisses. The old man could not forbear smiling. “Ah, innocents, you would sooner heap them on my son.”