“As for how she looks,” replied Harry, “here she comes with Miss Stanhope: you see her now, a tall, lean figure, with a face that might be pretty if it had a bit of expression. There, that slouchy, awkward figure, is worth just twenty thousand a year; while the one beside it, all grace, beauty, and vivacity, has not a cent. Whether Miss Arnott has common sense you must decide for yourself, for I intend to introduce you on the moment.”
Before Derwent had time to reply, the introduction had taken place, and Derwent been left dexterously to Miss Arnott, while his friend had contrived to monopolize her companion.
It was a lovely morning for walking. A shower the preceding evening had laid the dust, the sun shone without a cloud, and a cool breeze, laden with saline freshness from the sea, blew pleasantly past. The ladies were executing a long cherished determination to visit the cliffs on foot; and the two young men solicited leave to accompany them. In a few minutes Derwent had grown heartily tired of his companion. She was, he thought, the most insipid creature he had ever met. Yet, to do Miss Arnott justice, she was quite as interesting as most fashionably educated young ladies; but then Derwent could not help contrasting her with Miss Stanhope, whose playful wit, strong sense, and rich stores of reading rendered the penniless companion as fascinating as the heiress was dull. He was glad when, the cliffs being reached, his tête-à-tête was broken up. He had secretly resolved to be revenged on Harry, and accordingly luring Miss Stanhope off to look at the sea from a new point, he set out on his return, without going back for Harry and Miss Arnott, contenting himself with waving his hat for them to follow.
If Miss Stanhope detected his little stratagem, she was not displeased with it; and the walk back to the hotel comprised an hour of the sweetest enjoyment to Derwent. Though the beauty of Miss Stanhope had first attracted his attention, it was the qualities of her mind that now fascinated him; yet we will not deny that what she said received additional interest by falling from such lovely lips. In short, from that morning Derwent became the constant cavalier of Miss Stanhope; and this, notwithstanding the marked efforts which Miss Arnott made to attract him to herself. At last, the partiality of the heiress became so strong that she frowned openly on her companion whenever she saw Derwent and Miss Stanhope together—finally, the latter from some cause avoided his attentions, and left the field open to her more fortunate rival.
Whether, however, this was the result of Miss Arnott’s direct interference, or whether Miss Stanhope herself began to think Derwent only trifling with her, our hero had no means of discovering. For three or four days he bore the avoidance of his mistress with comparative patience, but when he found that she persisted in it, and was apparently not governed by any whim, he became almost mad with jealousy and despair. For the first time in his life he was really in love. He no longer thought of the comparative moderation in which he would have to live, if he married a woman without fortune; on his part he was now willing to make any sacrifice. After a sleepless night, he arose resolving to seek Miss Stanhope to offer his hand, when, on opening a letter that had been sent up to his room, marked “in haste,” he read the astounding intelligence that the bank in which most of his fortune was invested, had stopped payment, and that he was now comparatively a beggar.
Those who have never experienced the sudden loss of wealth, and who have never found themselves reduced, as it were in an hour, from a competence to poverty, know nothing of what Derwent suffered. For awhile he even forgot his love. He read and re-read his letter, but there was no mistake in the fact; he rang for the public papers, the announcement of the bank’s failure was there too. He paced his chamber, how long he knew not, until at last the door was thrown violently open, and Harry entered.
“What, in heaven’s name, is the matter?” cried his friend. “Have you forgotten your engagement to ride with me this morning? I waited till past the hour, and then came up and knocked at your door; you gave me no answer, though I heard you walking about like a mad lion in his cage; so I made bold to enter vi et armis, as a plea of trespass says. Now, don’t look as if you would eat me—but tell me what’s the row.”
Derwent had indeed glared at Harry like an enraged wild beast when the latter entered. He did not wish to be interrupted, much less by his mercurial companion; but, while Harry was speaking, he reflected how ridiculous anger would be, and hence, when the latter ceased, he advanced to the table by which Harry stood, and pushed the open letter, which contained the news of his ruin, to the intruder.
“Good God!” cried Harry, when he had perused it, “how unfortunate. I saw the failure of the bank in the papers, but did not know you owned any of the rascally stock. How came it, my dear fellow? I always invest in mortgages or ground-rents.”
“It was left there by my guardians, and since I came of age I have been abroad. I intended to change the investment, but left the business, with other things, till fall, intending to be here all summer. And what is worse, it is my entire fortune, except about five thousand dollars.”