Philip Winwood Part 5

"Of whom?" I asked.

"Of the fine ladies these poor things pretend to represent."

"How do you know?" I retorted, for I was somewhat taken with the actresses, and thought to avenge them by bringing her down a peg or two. "Have you seen so much of London fine ladies?"

"No, poor me!" she said sorrowfully, without a bit of anger, so that I was softened in a trice. "But the ladies of New York, even, are no such tawdry make-believes as this.--Heaven knows, I would give ten years of life for a sight of the fine world of London!"

She was looking so divine at that moment, that I could not but whisper:

"You would see nothing finer there than yourself."

"Do you think so?" she quickly asked, flas.h.i.+ng her eyes upon me in a strange way that called for a serious answer.

"'Tis the G.o.d's truth," I said, earnestly.

For a moment she was silent; then she whispered:

"What a silly whimsy of my father, his hatred of England! Does he imagine none of us is really ever to see the world?--That reminds me, don't forget the _Town and Country Magazine_ to-morrow."

I had once come upon a copy of that publication, which reflected the high life of England, perhaps too much on its scandalous side; and had shown it to Margaret. Immediately she had got me to subscribe for it, and to pa.s.s each number clandestinely to her. I, delighted to do her a favour, and to have a secret with her, complied joyously; and obtained for her as many novels and plays as I could, as well.

Little I fancied what bee I thus helped to keep buzzing in her pretty head, which she now carried with all the alternate imperiousness and graciousness of confident and proven beauty. Little I divined of feminine dreams of conquest in larger fields; or foresaw of dangerous fruit to grow from seed planted with thoughtlessness. To my mind, nothing of harm or evil could ensue from anything done, or thought, in our happy little group. To my eyes, the future could be only radiant and triumphant. For I was still but a lad at heart, and to think as I did, or to be thoughtless as I was, is the way of youth.

CHAPTER IV.

_How Philip and I Behaved as Rivals in Love._

I was always impatient, and restless to settle uncertainties. One fine morning in the Spring of 1773, Philip and I were breaking the Sabbath by practising with the foils in our back garden. Spite of all the lessons I had taken from an English fencing-master in the town, Phil was still my superior in the gentlemanly art. After a bout, on this suns.h.i.+ny morning, we rested upon a wooden bench, in the midst of a world of white and pink and green, for the apple and cherry blossoms were out, and the leaves were in their first freshness. The air was full of the odour of lilacs and honeysuckles. Suddenly the matter that was in my mind came out.

"I wish you'd tell me something, Phil--though 'tis none of my business,--"

"Why, man, you're welcome to anything I know."

"Then, is there aught between Margaret and you--any agreement or understanding, I mean?"

Phil smiled, comprehending me thoroughly.

"No, there's nothing. I'm glad you asked. It shows there's no promise between her and you, either."

"I thought you and I ought to settle it between ourselves about--Margaret. Because if we both go on letting time pa.s.s, each waiting to see what t'other will do, some other man will slip in, and carry off the prize, and there will both of us be, out in the cold."

"Oh, there's little fear of that," said Phil.

"Why, the fellows are all coming after her. She's far the finest girl in town."

"But you see how she treats them, all alike; looks down on them all, even while she's pleasant to them; and doesn't lead any one of them on a step further than the rest."

"Ay, but in time--she's eighteen now, you know."

"Why, did you ever try to imagine her regarding any one of them as a husband; as a companion to live with day after day, and to agree with, and look up to, and yield to, as a wife does? Just fancy Margaret accommodating herself to the everlasting company of Phil Van Cortlandt, or Jack Cruger, or Bob Livingstone, or Harry Colden, or Fred Philipse, or Billy Skinner, or any of them."

"I know," said I; "but many a girl has taken a man that other men couldn't see anything in."

"Ay, the women have a way of their own of judging men; or perhaps they make the best of what they can get. But you may depend on't, Margaret has too clear a sight, and too bright a mind, and thinks too well of herself, to mate with an uncouth cub, or a stupid dolt, or a girlish fop, or any of these that hang about her."

'Twas not Phil's way to speak ill of people, but when one considered men in comparison with Margaret, they looked indeed very crude and unworthy.

"You know," he added, "how soon she tires of any one's society."

"But," said I, dubiously, "if none of them has a chance, how is it with us?"

"Why, 'tis well-proved that she doesn't tire of us. For years and years, she has had us about her every day, and has been content with our society. That shows she could endure us to be always near her."

It was true, indeed. And I should explain here that, as things were in America then, and with Mr. Faringfield and Margaret, neither of us was entirely ineligible to the hand of so rich and important a man's daughter; although the town would not have likened our chances to those of a De Lancey, a Livingstone, or a Philipse. I ought to have said before, that Philip was now of promising fortune. He had risen in the employ of Mr. Faringfield, but, more than that, he had invested some years' savings in one of that merchant's s.h.i.+pping ventures, and had reinvested the profits, always upon his benefactor's advice, until now his independence was a certain thing. If he indeed tried architecture and it failed him as a means of livelihood, he might at any time fall back upon his means and his experience as a merchant adventurer. As for me, I also was a beneficiary of Mr. Faringfield's mercantile transactions by sea, my mother, at his hint, having drawn out some money from the English funds, and risked it with him.

Furthermore, I had obtained a subordinate post in the customs office, with a promise of sometime succeeding to my father's old place, and the certainty of remaining in his Majesty's service during good behaviour. This meant for life, for I had now learned how to govern my conduct, having schooled myself, for the sake of my mother's peace of mind, to keep out of trouble, often against my natural impulses. Thus both Phil and I might aspire to Margaret; and, moreover, 'twas like that her father would provide well for her if she found a husband to his approval. It did not then occur to me that my employment in the English service might be against me in Mr. Faringfield's eyes.

"Then," said I, reaching the main point at last, "as you think we are endurable to her--which of us shall it be?"

"Why, that question is for her to settle," said Phil, with a smile half-amused, half-surprised.

"But she will have to be asked. So which of us--?"

"I don't think it matters," he replied. "If she prefers one of us, she will take him and refuse the other, whether he ask first or last."

"But suppose she likes us equally. In that case, might not the first asker win, merely for his being first?"

"I think it scarce possible but that in her heart she must favour one above all others, though she may not know it yet."

"But it seems to me--"

"'Faith, Bert, do as you like, I sha'n't say nay, or think nay. If you ask her, and she accepts you, I shall be sure you are the choice of her heart. But as for me, I have often thought of the matter, and this is what I've come to: not to speak to her of it, until by some hint or act she shows her preference."

"But the lady must not make the first step."

"Not by proposal or direct word, of course--though I'll wager there have been exceptions to that; but I've read, and believe from what I've seen, that 'tis oftenest the lady that gives the first hint. No doubt, she has already made sure of the gentleman's feelings, by signs he doesn't know of. If a man didn't receive some leading on from a woman, how would he dare tell her his mind?--for if he loves her he must dread her refusal, or scorn, beyond all things. However that be, I've seen, in companies, and at the play, and even in church, how girls contrive to show their partiality to the fellows they prefer.

Why, we've both had it happen to us, when we were too young for the fancy to last. And 'tis the same, I'll wager, when the girls are women, and the stronger feeling has come, the kind that lasts. Be sure a girl as clever as Margaret will find a way of showing it, if she has set her mind on either of us. And so, I'm resolved to wait for some sign from her before I speak."

He went on to explain that this course would prolong, to the unfortunate one, the possession of the pleasures of hope. It would save him, and Margaret, from the very unpleasant incident of a rejection. Such a refusal must always leave behind it a certain bitterness in the memory, that will touch what friends.h.i.+p remains between the two people concerned. And I know Philip's wish that, though he might not be her choice, his old friends.h.i.+p with her might continue perfectly unmarred, was what influenced him to avoid a possible scene of refusal.

"Then I shall do as you do," said I, "and if I see any sign, either in my favour or yours, be sure I'll tell you."

"I was just about to propose that," said Phil; and we resumed our fencing.

There was, in our plan, nothing to hinder either of us from putting his best foot forward, as the saying is, and making himself as agreeable to the young lady as he could. Indeed that was the quickest way to call forth the indication how her affections stood. I don't think Phil took any pains to appear in a better light than usual. It was his habit to be always himself, sincere, gentle, considerate, and never thrusting forward. He had acquired with his growth a playful humour with which to trim his conversation, but which never went to tiresome lengths. This was all the more taking for his quiet manner, which held one where noise and effort failed. But I exerted myself to be mighty gallant, and to show my admiration and wit in every opportune way.