CHAPTER VII.
"Were you not delighted with the wild and mountainous scenery of thecountry around the Virginia Springs?" said Victor Chevillere to Miss St.Clair, on the morning after the scene related in the last chapter, asthe lady reclined, in a pensive mood, in the room before described.
"Oh, sir, you forget that I was too feeble in mind and body to enjoy thescenery around me then, or to partake of the enthusiasm of my friends onthe subject. The rich and romantic scenery of the White Sulphur washighly attractive to me, when I became somewhat convalescent; yet Ishall carry with me through life a sad remembrance of scenes, which tomany others of my age and sex will ever be associated with the gaydance, the enlivening gallopade, the stirring music, and withadventurous equestrian excursions among the mountains."
"I believe," said Chevillere, "that the most melancholy reflections maybe and are much softened and mellowed in after-life, by being associatedin the mind with the profoundly poetical feelings excited by theconstant view of quiet mountain scenery; such as the well-remembered,long, long line of blue peaks, stretching far away until they reach theclouds and the horizon."
"It is indeed true," said she, "that kind and beautiful nature, in theseason of green leaves and flowers, will sometimes almost tempt us tobelieve that misery is not the inevitable lot of the human family; butwhen the consciousness of the one and the beauty of the other aretogether present to us, it depends entirely upon the degree, whether thebeauty softens the suffering or not."
"In other words," said he, "whether the evil be so irremediable that_hope_ cannot enter the heart; that the ravishing beauty of naturecannot excite benevolence, devotion, and love."
"That was not entirely my case," said she, "for I am grateful for havingfelt some pleasing excitement at the time, and for being able now tocall up many pleasurable remembrances, clouded as they are for the mostpart with sadness."
"If I have been rightly informed, you did not visit all the othersprings around the White Sulphur."
"My health would not permit of our making the entire fashionable round."
"Oh, then you have missed much pleasure," said he. "There are the SweetSprings, rising out of the earth like a boiling caldron, with brilliantlittle balloons of gas ever ascending to the top of the water, andbursting in the sunbeams. There is not perhaps in the world such anothernatural fountain of soda-water. And there is the Salt Sulphur, with itshigh romantic hills covered with herds, and its beautiful meadows, andits long village of neat white cottages, and its splendidassembly-rooms, and its sumptuous banquets of wild game and artificialluxuries. But, above all, there is the Warm Spring, with its clear bluecrystal baths, large enough for a troop of horse to swim in; there,likewise, is an extensive green lawn, flanked on the one side by thesame kind of neat white cottages, and on the other by the line of bluemountains, rising abruptly from the plain within gun-shot of the baths.On a clear moonlight night, one may see the invalids sitting out on thegreen in front of their doors, enjoying the placid scenery of thevalley, and the profound and solemn monotony of the overhangingmountains,--sometimes, indeed, interrupted by the bustle of a newarrival, the neighing of horses, the crash of the wheels, the hoarsevoices of the coachmen as they exchange advice upon the descent into thevalley, or by the meeting of old friends and fellow-invalids, perhapsacquaintances of a former season, and fellow-sufferers with the gout,bantering each other upon their speed."
"From what little I saw of them, I think they perfectly justify thesouthern enthusiasm which we found everywhere on the subject; and Ishould think that there is no finer opportunity of seeing southernfashionable society."
"True; our wealthiest and most fashionable people resort thither everyseason. Yet I cannot say in truth, from what I have observed myself,that our aristocracy are seen there to the best advantage. They are toomuch in their holyday suit of manners,--too artificial,--too unnatural.I have seen people who were agreeable at home, become affected anddisagreeable at watering-places. I have also seen some who were reservedat home, become quite affable there. The latter effect, however, was byno means so common as the former."
"I did not see much affectation, or many unnatural people at the WhiteSulphur," said the lady.
"I cannot say that it is one of the besetting sins of the southernfashionables; all I meant to say was, that they show more of it therethan at home."
"For my own part, I was delighted with the generous, free, andopen-hearted manner in which I was treated by the few femaleacquaintances I made; and I am almost ashamed to acknowledge that theywere far more intelligent and accomplished than my prejudices had taughtme to expect."
"You acknowledge, then, that you had some provincial prejudices. Let mesee! _then_ I must take you regularly to account, and catechise you."
"Well," said the lady, as lightly as her habitual sadness everpermitted, "I will answer truly."
"I know you will speak truly whatever you do answer; but will you speakthe whole truth in answer to whatever I shall ask?"
A sad and afflicted expression appeared upon her countenance as shereplied, "I need hardly say to Mr. Chevillere, that those questionswhich are proper for him to ask and for me to hear shall be fullyanswered."
"You do me but justice in supposing that I would not discredit my newdignity, by propounding questions which would lessen me in the eyes of afair witness; but, to tell you the truth, I seriously meditated puttinga few in addition to such as were local, and perhaps in a more seriousmood than these might demand."
"Proceed, sir, proceed," said the lady, somewhat perturbed; "I mustreserve the right to answer or not. No trifling impediment, however,shall prevent me from gratifying your curiosity."
"Would you consider it a great misfortune to reside in the southernstates?"
"Places and countries are to me nearly alike."
"How so? You surely prefer your native land to all others?"
"Unhappiness soon makes us indifferent to mere locality; situated as Iam, many would prefer new scenes."
"Does not affliction enlarge the heart, and extend the affections?"
"I believe that slight sufferings make us captious--great ones, humaneand benevolent."
"Is it a natural consequence, that, when benevolence becomes universal,personal affections and partialities wither in proportion?"
"Certainly not, as a consequence; but it is questionable whetherblighted hopes do not generally precede the enlarged philanthropy spokenof."
"May not much travelling and experience of the world produce the sameeffect?"
"I cannot speak experimentally on that point; but I think it is veryprobable they do upon a masculine mind."
As Chevillere was about to continue his half-serious, half-jestingquestions, Mr. Brumley abruptly entered, and announced to hisdaughter-in-law his determination to proceed northward early on thefollowing morning; and almost at the same moment, old Cato, with hisstately step, profound bow, and cap in hand, presented a letter to hismaster, which he instantly knew by the superscription to be fromRandolph. Presenting his regards to them both, he retired to peruse theepistle, which will be found in the next chapter.