A Romantic Young Lady

by Robert Grant

"And so I am, so I am, quite in earnest. Of course I should wish to know a little more definitely about him before anything final was arranged. But from what I hear, there can be no question in regard to his title. If there were the slightest suspicion of anything out of the way concerning it, he would never have been at Mrs. Tremaine's, who is a very particular woman, and knows what she knows. He seems, so far as I could judge, to be a manly, right-minded young man. He told me that he shot three tigers in India, and I observed that he took scarcely any wine at dinner. It won't do though, Virginia, to dilly-dally, for I am given to understand that he leaves in a fortnight for California, to explore the West. But he is coming back to spend several months next winter, and if you do not throw cold water on him now, he may feel disposed to run on to Boston, in spite of the efforts that will be made to keep him here."

"I feel very certain," said I, "that he will come to Boston for a few days, as he has letters to Aunt Agnes."

"To your Aunt Agnes? What do you mean, child?" In her astonishment I thought she was going to bounce out of the carriage.

"I don't wonder you are surprised. Yes, the first question he asked was if I were not the niece of Miss Agnes Harlan, of Boston. It seems that she and his father made an ocean passage together a great many years ago, when they were both young, and the acquaintance has been kept up by correspondence ever since."

"Mercy on us! Your Aunt Agnes has never said a word to me about it."

"The Honorable Ernest's father is quite literary, and has written one or two books on philosophy, his son says."

"That accounts for it, of course. Well, well! to think of your Aunt Agnes being intimate with one of the nobility, and having never mentioned the subject! I have always given her credit for being an agreeable woman at bottom, if one could only forget her eccentricities. But this is extremely fortunate for you, Virginia. To be sure, there is no knowing how your Aunt will receive him, she is so hostile to every one who is not as queer as herself. But she must see, if she is not a fool, what a very advantageous match this would be for you. It could do no harm just to drop Mr. Ferroll a hint to humor her a little, and seem fond of serious subjects at the start, for if she should happen to take it into her head to ask him to stay at her house it would be very convenient."

These sentiments were frequently reiterated by Aunt Helen during the remaining weeks of our visit, and it must be allowed that the attentions of the Honorable Ernest soon justified her urgency, seeing that she really believed it was a matter of vital importance for me to become the future Duchess of Clyde. Nor was I at all sure myself, that if nothing else turned up I might not be tempted by the brilliancy of such a position. Not that I thought about it quite so definitely; but I was conscious of the exceptional advantages incident to high rank in England, to the extent that I did not treat his gallantries with marked indifference. I let him reveal himself for what he was, which is not possible without a certain degree of intimacy. Beneath his conventional ways I discovered a great deal of energy and decision. He was well-read, and had his own opinions. On many of the days when I did not go down-town, I took strolls with him in the Park and elsewhere. We discussed all sorts and kinds of subjects. We did not often agree, but that rather added to the interest of our intercourse than otherwise. I was a curiosity to him, he said. He complained that I was too radical and visionary in my ideas, and that I was quite different from his conception of American girls. To be sure, he said, I was ready to do things,—that is, go to walk with him, and banish Aunt Helen when he called; but he had been told that American girls knew nothing about politics or any serious matters, and were principally interested in the study of their inner consciousness as affected by man; whereas I was perpetually taking issue with him on questions of government policy and pauperism, driving him into holes in regard to the value of an hereditary nobility and the dis-establishment of the English Church. Women at home were not like that, he said. The men told them what to believe, and they stuck to it through thick and thin; but voluntary feminine ratiocination was the rarest thing in the world among his countrywomen. As for himself, he was a conservative,—a conservative without money. Money was all he needed to build up the splendid estates of Clyde, which had been slowly decaying for this lack during two generations. His chief ambition was to retouch and refurbish the broad domain of his inheritance, so that its lordly manors, ivy-mantled abbeys, and green meadows might know again the peace, poetry, and prosperity of an ideal English home. There would then for the lord of Clyde be happiness and romance equalled by none on earth. For, eager to benefit his fellow-men, he would have within the radius of his own estate a hundred cabins to call in play his invention or humanity; and with one's conscience at rest, he said, could there be a purer joy than to wander with her of one's choice under the ancestral elms of old England, with the September moon o'erhead?

This was the Honorable Ernest's dream; but to realize it, he must make money. He had come to the States, so he told me when we grew more intimate, in order to seek it. There were great chances in the far West for a shrewd man with a little capital, and to find some investment that promised large returns was the real object of his journey thither. Already, even since his arrival in New York, he had done extremely well. There was a smart (so he had heard him called) young fellow who had put him into several profitable speculations: very likely I might know him,—Roger Dale was his name; every one said he had made a lot of money, and was one of the coming men of Wall Street. I was kindly to consider this as a confidence, for he did not care to have it noised about that he was other than an idler here.

The Honorable Ernest Ferroll's attentions, as I have implied, grew apace from the evening of our introduction, and soon attracted remark. There was an instant recognition of the fitness of the match even from the most envious, and Aunt Helen was the recipient of numerous congratulatory innuendoes. The circumstance of his delaying the date of his journey a week confirmed the general impression of his serious views, and even I began to feel some pangs of conscience on the score of allowing him to fancy that if he did come to the point I should accept him eagerly. In contemplation of this emergency I felt that it was time for me to go home. We both would then have six months in which to think it over. When he should return from the West, it would be time enough for me to come to a decision as to whether I desired to re-gild the poetry of his English home. I was certain that if he insisted on an immediate answer my reply would be unfavorable. But I much preferred to defer any definite proposal; and accordingly, with all the tact at my command, I tried to avoid giving him an opportunity of being left alone with me for any length of time, without making it noticeable to him. Finally, as he seemed likely to become unmanageable despite my precautions, and as he put off again and again his day of departure, I resolved to take refuge in flight.