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is hope enough for one day," she said, rising; "the profession

and the flag must counterbalance the years as best they may, and the

Truck lives another revolution of the sun! Mrs. Hawker, we shall be

late at dinner, I see by that clock, unless we retire soon."

 

Both the ladies now went to their rooms; Eve, who was already dressed

for dinner, remaining in the drawing-room. Paul still stood before

her, and, like herself, he seemed embarrassed.

 

"There are men who would be delighted to hear even the little that

has fallen from your lips in this trifling," he said, as soon as Mrs.

Bloomfield was out of hearing. "To be an American and a seaman, then,

are not serious defects in your eyes?"

 

"Am I to be made responsible for Mrs. Bloomfield's caprices and

pleasantries?"

 

"By no means; but I do think you hold yourself responsible for Miss

Effingham's truth and sincerity I can conceive of your silence, when

questioned too far, but scarcely of any direct declaration, that

shall not possess both these high qualities."

 

Eve looked up gratefully, for she saw that profound respect for her

character dictated the remark; but rising, she observed--

 

"This is making a little _badinage_ about our honest, lion-hearted,

old captain, a very serious affair. And now, to show you that I am

conscious of, and thankful for, your own compliment, I shall place

you on the footing of a friend to both the parties, and request you

will take Captain Truck into your especial care, while he remains

here. My father and cousin are both sincerely his friends, but their

habits are not so much those of their guests, as yours will probably

be; and to you, then, I commit him, with a request that he may miss

his ship and the ocean as little as possible."

 

"I would I knew how to take this charge, Miss Effingham!--To be a

seaman is not always a recommendation with the polished, intelligent,

and refined."

 

"But when one is polished, intelligent, and refined, to be a seaman

is to add one other particular and useful branch of knowledge to

those which are more familiar. I feel certain Captain Truck will be

in good hands, and now I will go and do my devoirs to my own especial

charges, the ladies."

 

Eve bowed as she passed the young man, and she left the room with as

much haste as at all became her. Paul stood motionless quite a minute

after she had vanished, nor did he awaken from his reverie, until

aroused by an appeal from Captain Truck, to sustain him, in some of

his matter-of-fact opinions concerning England, against the visionary

and bookish notions of Mr. Howel.

 

"Who is this Mr. Powis?" asked Mrs. Bloomfield of Eve, when the

latter appeared in her dressing-room, with an unusual impatience of

manner.

 

"You know, my dear Mrs. Bloomfield, that he was our fellow-passenger

in the Montauk, and that he was of infinite service to us, in

escaping from the Arabs."

 

"All this I know, certainly; but he is a European, is he not?"

 

Eve scarcely ever felt more embarrassed than in answering this simple

question.

 

"I believe not; at least, I think not; we thought so when we met him

in Europe, and even until quite lately; but he has avowed himself a

countryman of our own, since his arrival at Templeton."

 

"Has he been here long?"

 

"We found him in the village on reaching home. He was from Canada,

and has been in waiting for his cousin, Captain Ducie, who came with

you."

 

"His cousin!--He has English cousins, then! Mr. Ducie kept this to

himself, with true English reserve. Captain Truck whispered something

of the latter's having taken out one of his passengers, _the_ Mr.

Powis. the hero of the rocks, but I did not know of his having found

his way back to our--to his country. Is he as agreeable as Sir George

Templemore?"

 

"Nay, Mrs. Bloomfield, I must leave you to judge of that for

yourself. I think them both agreeable men; but there is so much

caprice in a woman's tastes, that I decline thinking for others."

 

"He is a seaman, I believe," observed Mrs. Bloomfield, with an

abstracted manner--"he _must_ have been, to have manoeuvred and

managed as I have been told he did. Powis--Powis--that is not one of

our names, neither--I should think he must be from the south."

 

Here Eve's habitual truth and dignity of mind did her good service,

and prevented any further betrayal of embarrassment.

 

"We do not know his family," she steadily answered. "That he is a

gentleman, we see; but of his origin and connections he never

speaks."

 

"His profession would have given him the notions of a gentleman, for

he was in the navy I have heard, although I had thought it the

British navy. I do not know of any Powises in Philadelphia, or

Baltimore, or Richmond, or Charleston; he must surely be from the

interior."

 

Eve could scarcely condemn her friend for a curiosity that had not a

little tormented herself, though she would gladly change the

discourse.

 

"Mr. Powis would be much gratified, did he know what a subject of

interest he has suddenly become with Mrs. Bloomfield," she said,

smiling.

 

"I confess it all; to be very sincere, I think him the most

distinguished young man, in air, appearance, and expression of

countenance, I ever saw. When this is coupled with what I have heard

of his gallantry and coolness, my dear, I should not be woman to feel

no interest in him. I would give the world to know of what State he

is a native, if native, in truth, he be."

 

"For that we have his own word. He was born in this country, and was

educated in our own marine."

 

"And yet from the little that fell from him, in our first short

conversation, he struck me as being educated above his profession."

 

"Mr. Powis has seen much as a traveller; when we met him in Europe,

it was in a circle particularly qualified to improve both his mind

and his manners."

 

"Europe! Your acquaintance did not then commence, like that with Sir

George Templemore, in the packet?"

 

"Our acquaintance with neither, commenced in the packet. My father

had often seen both these gentlemen, during our residences in

different parts of Europe."

 

"And your father's daughter?"

 

"My father's daughter, too," said Eve, laughing. "With Mr. Powis, in

particular, we were acquainted under circumstances that left a vivid

recollection of his manliness and professional skill. He was of

almost as much service to us on one of the Swiss lakes, as he has

subsequently been on the ocean."

 

All this was news to Mrs. Bloomfield, and she looked as if she

thought the intelligence interesting. At this moment the dinner-bell

rang, and all the ladies descended to the drawing-room. The gentlemen

were already assembled, and as Mr. Effingham led Mrs. Hawker to the

table, Mrs. Bloomfield gaily took Eve by the arm, protesting that she

felt herself privileged, the first day, to take a seat near the young

mistress of the Wigwam.

 

"Mr. Powis and Sir George Templemore will not quarrel about the

honour," she said, in a low voice, as they proceeded towards the

table.

 

"Indeed you are in error, Mrs. Bloomfield; Sir George Templemore is

much better pleased with being at liberty to sit next my cousin

Grace."

 

"Can this be so!" returned the other, looking intently at her young

friend.

 

"Indeed it is so, and I am very glad to be able to affirm it. How far

Miss Van Cortlandt is pleased that it is so, time must show: but the

baronet betrays every day, and all day, how much he is pleased with

her."

 

"He is then a man of less taste, and judgment, and intelligence, than

I had thought him."

 

"Nay, dearest Mrs. Bloomfield, this is not necessarily true; or, if

true, need it be so openly said?"

 

"_Se non e vero, e ben trovato_."

 

Chapter XVIII. ("Thine for a space are they--)

Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last;

Thy gates shall yet give way,

Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable Past."

 

BRYANT

 

Captain Ducie had retired for the night, and was sitting reading,

when a low tap at the door roused him from a brown study. He gave the

necessary permission, and the door opened.

 

"I hope, Ducie, you have not forgotten the secretary I left among

your effects," said Paul entering the room, "and concerning which I

wrote you when you were still at Quebec."

 

Captain Ducie pointed to the case, which was standing among his other

luggage, on the floor of the room.

 

"Thank you for this care," said Paul, taking the secretary under his

arm, and retiring towards the door; "it contains papers of much

importance to myself, and some that I have reason to think are of

importance to others."

 

"Stop, Powis--a word before, you quit me. Is Templemore _de trop_?"

 

"Not at all; I have a sincere regard for Templemore, and should be

sorry to see him leave us."

 

"And yet I think it singular a man of his habits should be

rusticating among these hills, when I know that he is expected to

look at the Canadas, with a view to report their actual condition at

home."

 

"Is Sir George really entrusted with a commission of that sort?"

inquired Paul, with interest.

 

"Not with any positive commission, perhaps, for none was necessary.

Templemore is a rich fellow, and has no need of appointments; but, it

is hoped and understood, that he will look at the provinces, and

report their condition to the government, I dare say he will not be

impeached for his negligence, though it may occasion surprise."

 

"Good night, Ducie; Templemore prefers a wigwam to your walled

Quebec, and _natives_ to colonists, that's all."

 

In a minute, Paul was at the door of John Effingham's room, where he

again tapped, and was again told to enter.

 

"Ducie has not forgotten my request, and here is the secretary that

contains poor Mr. Monday's paper," he remarked, as he laid his load

on a toilet-table, speaking in a way to show that the visit was

expected. "We have, indeed, neglected this duty too long, and it is

to be hoped no injustice, or wrong to any, will be the consequence."

 

"Is that the package?" demanded John Effingham, extending a hand to

receive a bundle of papers that Paul had taken from the secretary.

"We will break the seals this moment, and ascertain what ought to be

done, before we sleep."

 

"These are papers of my own, and very precious are they," returned

the young man, regarding them a moment, with interest, before he laid

them on the toilet. "Here are the papers of Mr. Monday."

 

John Effingham received the package from his young friend, placed the

lights conveniently on the table, put on his spectacles, and invited

Paul to be seated. The gentlemen were placed opposite each other, the

duty of breaking the seals, and first casting an eye at the contents

of the different documents, devolving, as a matter of course, on the

senior of the two, who, in truth, had alone been entrusted with it.

 

"Here is something signed by poor Monday himself, in the way of a

general, certificate," observed John Effingham, who first read the

paper, and then handed it to Paul. It was, in form, an unsealed

letter; and it was addressed "to all whom it may concern." The

certificate itself was in the following words:

 

"I, John Monday, do declare and certify, that all the accompanying

letters and documents are genuine and authentic. Jane Dowse, to whom

and from whom, are so many letters, was my late mother, she having

intermarried with Peter Dowse, the man so often named, and who led

her into acts for which I know she has since been deeply repentant.

In committing these papers to me, my poor mother left me the sole

judge of the course I was to take, and I have put them in this form

in order that they may yet do good, should I be called suddenly away.

All depends on discovering who the person called Bright actually is,

for he was never known to my mother, by any other name. She knows him

to have been an Englishman, however, and thinks he was, or