Books: Capitola The Madcap

E >> Emma D. E. N. Southworth >> Capitola The Madcap

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"I? Will I not be patient, after the lesson I have just learned upon
the evils of the opposite? Be easy on my account, dear old friend, I
will be as patient as Job, meek as Moses and long-suffering as--my
own sweet mother!" said Traverse, earnestly.

The drum was now heard beating to quarters, and Traverse, wringing
his friend's hand, left him.

Herbert returned to his ship full of one scheme, of which he had not
spoken to Traverse lest it should prove unsuccessful. This scheme
was to procure his free discharge before they should set sail for
the Rio Grande. He had many influential friends among the officers
of his regiment, and he was resolved to tell them as much as was
delicate, proper and useful for them to know of the young recruit's
private history, in order to get their cooperation.

Herbert spent every hour of this day and the next, when off duty, in
this service of his friend. He found his brother officers easily
interested, sympathetic and propitious. They united their efforts
with his own to procure the discharge of the young recruit, but in
vain; the power of Colonel Le Noir was opposed to their influence
and the application was peremptorily refused.

Herbert Greyson did not sit down quietly under this disappointment,
but wrote an application embodying all the facts of the case to the
Secretary of War, got it signed by all the officers of the regiment
and despatched it by the first mail.

Simultaneously he took another important step for the interest of
his friend. Without hinting any particular motive, he had begged
Traverse to let him have his photograph taken, and the latter, with
a laugh at the lover-like proposal, had consented. When the likeness
was finished Herbert sent it by express to Major Warfield,
accompanied by a letter describing the excellent character and
unfortunate condition of Traverse, praying the major's interest in
his behalf and concluding by saying:

"You cannot look upon the accompanying photograph of my friend and
any longer disclaim your own express image in your son."

How this affected the action of Old Hurricane will be seen
hereafter.

Traverse, knowing nothing of the efforts that had been and were
still being made for his discharge, suffered neither disappointment
for failure of the first nor anxiety for the issue of the last.

He wrote to his mother and Clara, congratulating them on their good
fortune; telling them that he, in common with many young men of St.
Louis, had volunteered for the Mexican War; that he was then in New
Orleans, en route for the Rio Grande, and that they would be pleased
to know that their mutual friend, Herbert Greyson, was an officer in
the same regiment of which he himself was at present a private, but
with strong hopes of soon winning his epaulettes. He endorsed an
order for his mother to draw the thousand dollars left him by Doctor
Day, and he advised her to re-deposit the sum in her own name for
her own use in case of need. Praying God's blessing upon them all,
and begging their prayers for himself, Traverse concluded his
letter, which he mailed the same evening.

And the next morning the company was ordered on board and the whole
expedition set sail for the Rio Grande.

Now, we might just as easily as not accompany our troops to Mexico
and relate the feats of arms there performed with the minuteness and
fidelity of an eye-witness, since we have sat at dinner-tables where
the heroes of that war have been honored guests, and where we have
heard them fight their battles o'er till "thrice the foe was slain
and thrice the field was won."

We might follow the rising star of our young lieutenant, as by his
own merits and others' mishaps he ascended from rank to rank,
through all the grades of military promotion, but need not because
the feats of Lieutenant--Captain--Major and Colonel Greyson, are
they not written in the chronicles of the Mexican War?

We prefer to look after our little domestic heroine, our brave
little Cap, who, when women have their rights, shall be a
lieutenant-colonel herself. Shall she not, gentlemen?

* * * * * * *

In one fortnight from this time, while Mrs. Rocke and Clara were
still living comfortably at Willow Heights and waiting anxiously to
hear from Traverse, whom they still supposed to be practising his
profession at St Louis, they received his last letter written on the
eve of his departure for the seat of war. At first the news
overwhelmed them with grief, but then they sought relief in faith,
answered his letter cheerfully and commended him to the infinite
mercy of God.

CHAPTER XV.

CAP CAPTIVATES A CRAVEN.

"He knew himself a villain, but he deemed
The rest no better than the thing he seemed;
And scorned the best as hypocrites who hid
Those deeds the bolder spirits plainly did.
He knew himself detested, but he knew
The hearts that loathed him crouched and--dreaded, too."

The unregenerate human heart is, perhaps, the most inconsistent
thing in all nature; and in nothing is it more capricious than in
the manifestations of its passions; and in no passion is it so
fantastic as in that which it miscalls love, but which is really
often only appetite.

From the earliest days of manhood Craven Le Noir had been the votary
of vice, which he called pleasure. Before reaching the age of
twenty-five he had run the full course of dissipation, and found
himself ruined in health, degraded in character and disgusted with
life.

Yet in all this experience his heart had not been once agitated with
a single emotion that deserved the name of passion. It was colder
than the coldest.

He had not loved Clara, though, for the sake of her money, he had
courted her so assiduously. Indeed, for the doctor's orphan girl he
had from the first conceived a strong antipathy. His evil spirit had
shrunk from her pure soul with the loathing a fiend might feel for
an angel. He had found it repugnant and difficult, almost to the
extent of impossibility, for him to pursue the courtship to which he
was only reconciled by a sense of duty to--his pocket.

It was reserved for his meeting with Capitola at the altar of the
Forest Chapel to fire his clammy heart, stagnant blood and sated
senses with the very first passion that he had ever known. Her
image, as she stood there at the altar with flashing eyes and
flaming cheeks and scathing tongue defying him, was ever before his
mind's eye. There was something about that girl so spirited, so
piquant and original that she impressed even his apathetic nature as
no other woman had ever been able to do. But what most of all
attracted him to Capitola was her diablerie. He longed to catch that
little savage to his bosom and have her at his mercy. The aversion
she had exhibited toward him only stimulated his passion.

Craven Le Noir, among his other graces, was gifted with inordinate
vanity. He did not in the least degree despair of over-coming all
Capitola's dislike to his person and inspiring her with a passion
equal to his own.

He knew well that he dared not present himself at Hurricane Hall,
but he resolved to waylay her in her rides and there to press his
suit. To this he was urged by another motive almost as strong as
love--namely, avarice.

He had gathered thus much from his father, that Capitola Black was
supposed to be Capitola Le Noir, the rightful heiress of all that
vast property in land, houses, iron and coal mines, foundries and
furnaces, railway shares, etc., and bank stocks, from which his
father drew the princely revenue that supported them both in their
lavish extravagance of living.

As the heiress--or, rather, the rightful owner--of all this vast
fortune. Capitola was a much greater "catch" than poor Clara, with
her modest estate, had been. And Mr. Craven Le Noir was quite
willing to turn the tables on his father by running off with the
great heiress, and step from his irksome position of dependent upon
Colonel Le Noir's often ungracious bounty to that of the husband of
the heiress and the master of the property. Added to that was
another favorable circumstance--namely, whereas he had had a strong
personal antipathy to Clara he had as strong an attraction to
Capitola, which would make his course of courtship all the
pleasanter.

In one word, he resolved to woo, win and elope with, or forcibly
abduct, Capitola Le Noir, marry her and then turn upon his father
and claim the fortune in right of his wife. The absence of Colonel
Le Noir in Mexico favored his projects, as he could not fear
interruption.

Meanwhile our little madcap remained quite unconscious of the honors
designed her. She had cried every day of the first week of Herbert's
absence; every alternate day of the second; twice in the third; once
in the fourth; not at all in the fifth, and the sixth week she was
quite herself again, as full of fun and frolic and as ready for any
mischief or deviltry that might turn up.

She resumed her rides, no longer followed by Wool, because Old
Hurricane, partly upon account of his misadventure in having had the
misfortune inadvertently "to lose sight of" his mistress upon that
memorable occasion of the metamorphosis of Cap into Clara and partly
because of the distant absence of Le Noir, did not consider his
favorite in danger.

He little knew that a subtle and unscrupulous agent had been left
sworn to her destruction, and that another individual, almost
equally dangerous, had registered a secret vow to run off with her.

Neither did poor Cap when, rejoicing to be free from the dogging
attendance of Wool, imagine the perils to which she was exposed; nor
is it even likely that if she had she would have cared for them in
any other manner than as promising piquant adventures. From
childhood she had been inured to danger, and had never suffered
harm; therefore, Cap, like the Chevalier Bayard, was "without fear
and without reproach."

Craven Le Noir proceeded cautiously with his plans, knowing that
there was time enough and that all might be lost by haste. He did
not wish to alarm Capitola.

The first time he took occasion to meet her in her rides he merely
bowed deeply, even to the flaps of his saddle and, with a melancholy
smile, passed on.

"Miserable wretch! He is a mean fellow to want to marry a girl
against her will, no matter how much he might have been in love with
her, and I am very glad I balked him. Still, he looks so ill and
unhappy that I can't help pitying him," said Cap, looking
compassionately at his white cheeks and languishing eyes, and little
knowing that the illness was the effect of dissipation and that the
melancholy was assumed for the occasion.

A few days after this Cap again met Craven Le Noir, who again, with
a deep bow and sad smile, passed her.

"Poor fellow! he richly deserves to suffer, and I hope it may make
him better, for I am right-down sorry for him; it must be so
dreadful to lose one we love; but it was too base in him to let his
father try to compel her to have him. Suppose, now, Herbert Greyson
was to take a fancy to another girl, would I let uncle go to him and
put a pistol to his head and say, 'Cap is fond of you, you varlet!
and demmy, sir, you shall marry none but her, or receive an ounce of
lead in your stupid brains'? No, I'd scorn it; I'd forward the other
wedding; I'd make the cake and dress the bride and--then maybe I'd
break--no, I'm blamed if I would! I'd not break my heart for
anybody. Set them up with it, indeed! Neither would my dear,
darling, sweet, precious Herbert treat me so, and I'm a wretch to
think of it!" said Cap, with a rich, inimitable unction as,
rejoicing in her own happy love, she cheered Gyp and rode on.

Now, Craven Le Noir had been conscious of the relenting and
compassionate looks of Capitola, but he did not know that they were
only the pitying regards of a noble and victorious nature over a
vanquished and suffering wrong-doer. However, he still determined to
be cautious, and not ruin his prospects by precipitate action, but
to "hasten slowly."

So the next time he met Capitola he raised his eyes with one deep,
sad, appealing gaze to hers, and then, bowing profoundly, passed on,

"Poor man," said Cap to herself, "he bears no malice toward me for
depriving him of his sweetheart; that's certain. And, badly as he
behaved, I suppose it was all for love, for I don't know how any one
could live in the same house with Clara and not be in love with her.
I should have been so myself if I'd been a man, I know!"

The next time Cap met Craven and saw again that deep, sorrowful,
appealing gaze as he bowed and passed her, she glanced after him,
saying to herself:

"Poor soul, I wonder what he means by looking at me in that piteous
manner? I can do nothing to relieve him. I'm sure if I could I
would. But 'the way of the transgressor is hard,' Mr. Le Noir, and
he who sins must suffer."

For about three weeks their seemingly accidental meetings continued
in this silent manner, so slowly did Craven make his advances. Then,
feeling more confidence, he made a considerably long step forward.

One day, when he guessed that Capitola would be out, instead of
meeting her as heretofore, he put himself in her road and, riding
slowly toward a five-barred gate, allowed her to overtake him.

He opened the gate and, bowing, held it open until she had passed.

She bowed her thanks and rode on; but presently, without the least
appearance of intruding, since she had overtaken him, he was at her
side and, speaking with downcast eyes and deferential manner, he
said:

"I have long desired an opportunity to express the deep sorrow and
mortification I feel for having been hurried into rudeness toward an
estimable young lady at the Forest Chapel. Miss Black, will you
permit me now to assure you of my profound repentance of that act
and to implore your pardon?"

"Oh, I have nothing against you, Mr. Le Noir. It was not I whom you
were intending to marry against my will; and as for what you said
and did to me, ha! ha! I had provoked it, you know, and I also
afterwards paid it in kind. It was a fair fight, in which I was the
victor, and victors should never be vindictive," said Cap, laughing,
for, though knowing him to have been violent and unjust, she did not
suspect him of being treacherous and deceitful, or imagine the base
designs concealed beneath his plausible manner. Her brave, honest
nature could understand a brute or a despot, but not a traitor.

"Then, like frank enemies who have fought their fight out, yet bear
no malice toward each other, we may shake hands and be friends, I
hope," said Craven, replying in the same spirit in which she had
spoken.

"Well, I don't know about that, Mr. Le Noir. Friendship is a very
sacred thing, and its name should not be lightly taken on our
tongues. I hope you will excuse me if I decline your proffer," said
Cap, who had a well of deep, true, earnest feeling beneath her
effervescent surface.

"What! you will not even grant a repentant man your friendship, Miss
Black?" asked Craven, with a sorrowful smile.

"I wish you well, Mr. Le Noir. I wish you a good and, therefore, a
happy life; but I cannot give you friendship, for that means a great
deal."

"Oh, I see how it is! You cannot give your friendship where you
cannot give your esteem. Is it not so?"

"Yes," said Capitola; "that is it; yet I wish you so well that I
wish you might grow worthy of higher esteem than mine."

"You are thinking of my--yes, I will not shrink from characterizing
that conduct as it deserves--my unpardonable violence toward Clara.
Miss Black, I have mourned that sin from the day that I was hurried
into it until this. I have bewailed it from the very bottom of my
heart," said Craven, earnestly, fixing his eyes with an expression
of perfect truthfulness upon those of Capitola.

"I am glad to hear you say so," said Cap.

"Miss Black, please hear this in palliation--I would not presume to
say in defense--of my conduct: I was driven to frenzy by a passion
of contending love and jealousy as violent and maddening as it was
unreal and transient. But that delusive passion has subsided, and
among the unmerited mercies for which I have to be thankful is that,
in my frantic pursuit of Clara Day, I was not cursed with success!
For all the violence into which that frenzy hurried me I have deeply
repented. I can never forgive myself, but--cannot you forgive me?"

"Mr. Le Noir, I have nothing for which to forgive you. I am glad
that you have repented toward Clara and I wish you well, and that is
really all that I can say."

"I have deserved this and I accept it," said Craven, in a tone so
mournful that Capitola, in spite of all her instincts, could not
choose but pity him.

He rode on, with his pale face, downcast eyes and melancholy
expression, until they reached a point at the back of Hurricane
Hall, where their paths diverged.

Here Craven, lifting his hat and bowing profoundly, said, in a sad
tone:

"Good evening, Miss Black," and, turning his horse's head, took the
path leading down into the Hidden Hollow.

"Poor young fellow! he must be very unhappy down in that miserable
place; but I can't help it. I wish he would go to Mexico with the
rest," said Cap, as she pursued her way homeward.

Not to excite her suspicion, Craven Le Noir avoided meeting Capitola
for a few days, and then threw himself in her road and, as before,
allowed her to overtake him.

Very subtly he entered into conversation with her, and, guarding
every word and look, took care to interest without alarming her. He
said no more of friendship, but a great deal of regret for wasted
years and wasted talents in the past and good resolutions for the
future.

And Cap listened good humoredly. Capitola, being of a brave, hard,
firm nature, had not the sensitive perceptions, fine intuitions and
true insight into character that distinguished the more refined
nature of Clara Day--or, at least, she had not these delicate
faculties in the same perfection. Thus, her undefined suspicions of
Craven's sincerity were overborne by a sort of noble benevolence
which determined her to think the best of him which circumstances
would permit.

Craven, on his part, having had more experience, was much wiser in
the pursuit of his object. He also had the advantage of being in
earnest. His passion for Capitola was sincere, and not, as it had
been in the case of Clara, simulated. He believed, therefore, that,
when the time should be ripe for the declaration of his love, he
would have a much better prospect of success, especially as
Capitola, in her ignorance of her own great fortune, must consider
his proposal the very climax of disinterestedness.

After three more weeks of riding and conversing with Capitola he
had, in his own estimation, advanced so far in her good opinion as
to make it perfectly safe to risk a declaration. And this he
determined to do upon the very first opportunity.

Chance favored him.

One afternoon Capitola, riding through the pleasant woods skirting
the back of the mountain range that sheltered Hurricane Hall, got a
fall, for which she was afterwards inclined to cuff Wool.

It happened in this way: She had come to a steep rise in the road
and urged her pony into a hard gallop, intending as she said to
herself, to "storm the height," when suddenly, under the violent
strain, the girth, ill-fastened, flew apart and Miss Cap was on the
ground, buried under the fallen saddle.

With many a blessing upon the carelessness of grooms, Cap picked
herself up, put the saddle on the horse, and was engaged in drawing
under the girth when Craven Le Noir rode up, sprang from his horse
and, with anxiety depicted on his countenance, ran to the spot
inquiring:

"What is the matter? No serious accident, I hope and trust, Miss
Black?"

"No; those wretches in uncle's stables did not half buckle the
girth, and, as I was going in a hard gallop up the steep, it flew
apart and gave me a tumble; that's all," said Cap, desisting a
moment from her occupation to take breath.

"You were not hurt?" inquired Craven, with deep interest in his
tone.

"Oh, no; there is no harm done, except to my riding skirt, which has
been torn and muddied by the fall," said Cap, laughing and resuming
her efforts to tighter the girth.

"Pray permit me," said Craven, gently taking the end of the strap
from her hand; "this is no work for a lady, and, besides, is beyond
your strength."

Capitola, thanking him, withdrew to the side of the road, and,
seating herself upon the trunk of a fallen tree, began to brush the
dirt from her habit.

Craven adjusted and secured the saddle with great care, patted and
soothed the pony and then, approaching Capitola in the most
deferential manner, stood before her and said: "Miss Black, you will
pardon me, I hope, if I tell you that the peril I had imagined you
to be in has so agitated my mind as to make it impossible for me
longer to withhold a declaration of my sentiments--" Here his voice,
that had trembled throughout this disclosure, now really and utterly
failed him.

Capitola looked up with surprise and interest; she had never in her
life before heard an explicit declaration of love from anybody. She
and Herbert somehow had always understood each other very well,
without ever a word of technical love-making passing between them;
so Capitola did not exactly know what was coming next.

Craven recovered his voice, and encouraged by the favorable manner
in which she appeared to listen to him, actually threw himself at
her feet and, seizing one of her hands, with much ardor and
earnestness and much more eloquence than any one would have credited
him with, poured forth the history of his passion and his hopes.

"Well, I declare!" said Cap, when he had finished his speech and was
waiting in breathless impatience for her answer; "this is what is
called a declaration of love and a proposal of marriage, is it? It
is downright sentimental, I suppose, if I had only sense enough to
appreciate it! It is as good as a play; pity it is lost upon me!"

"Cruel girl! how you mock me!" cried Craven, rising from his knees
and sitting beside her.

"No, I don't; I'm in solemn earnest. I say it is first rate. Do it
again; I like it!"

"Sarcastic and merciless one, you glory in the pain you give! But if
you wish again to hear me say I love you, I will say it a dozen--
yes, a hundred--times over if you will only admit that you could
love me a little in return."

"Don't; that would be tiresome; two or three times is quite enough.
Besides, what earthly good could my saying 'I love you' do?"

"It might persuade you to become the wife of one who will adore you
to the last hour of his life."

"Meaning you?"

"Meaning me; the most devoted of your admirers."

"That isn't saying much, since I haven't got any but you."

"Thank fortune for it! Then I am to understand, charming Capitola,
that at least your hand and your affections are free," cried Craven,
joyfully.

"Well, now, I don't know about that! Really, I can't positively say;
but it strikes me, if I were to get married to anybody else, there's
somebody would feel queerish!"

"No doubt there are many whose secret hopes would be blasted, for so
charming a girl could not have passed through this world without
having won many hearts who would keenly feel the loss of hope in her
marriage. But what if they do, my enchanting Capitola? You are not
responsible for any one having formed such hopes."

"Fudge!" said Cap, "I'm no belle; never was; never can be; have
neither wealth, beauty nor coquetry enough to make me one. I have no
lovers nor admirers to break their hearts about me, one way or
another; but there is one honest fellow--hem! never mind; I feel as
if I belonged to somebody else; that's all. I am very much obliged
to you, Mr. Le Noir, for your preference, and even for the beautiful
way in which you have expressed it, but--I belong to somebody else."

"Miss Black," said Craven, somewhat abashed but not discouraged. "I
think I understand you. I presume that you refer to the young man
who was your gallant champion in the Forest Chapel."

"The one that made your nose bleed," said the incorrigible Cap.

"Well, Miss Black, from your words it appears that this is by no
means an acknowledged but only an understood engagement, which
cannot be binding upon either party. Now, a young lady of your
acknowledged good sense--"

"I never had any more good sense than I have had admirers,"
interrupted Cap.

Craven smiled.

"I would not hear your enemy say that," he replied; then, resuming
his argument, he said:

"You will readily understand, Miss Black, that the vague engagement
of which you speak, where there is want of fortune on both sides, is
no more prudent than it is binding. On the contrary, the position
which it is my pride to offer you is considered an enviable one;
even apart from the devoted love that goes with it. You are aware
that I am the sole heir of the Hidden House estate, which, with all
its dependencies, is considered the largest property, as my wife
would be the most important lady, in the county."

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