CHAPTER X.

ONE OF FORTUNE'S SMILES.

"Fortune is merry, And in this mood will give us anything."--JULIUS CÆSAR.

Captain Guy Campbell sat in the parlor of the Westport House, as the flaming gilt signboard announced, his heels elevated on the window-sill, his chair tipped back, a cigar in his mouth, and a newspaper in his hand. Many people were passing in and out, some of whom he greeted with a nod, others with a brief salutation, while he still went on with his reading and smoking. There seemed to be nothing very exciting in the paper, judging by Captain Campbell's suppressed yawns; and he was about to throw it aside as worthless, when a paragraph caught his eye, that brought him to his feet, as suddenly as though those members were furnished with steel springs.

The paragraph was brief, and ran thus:

"If Mark Campbell, Esq., of Campbell's Isle, be still alive, he is earnestly requested to call immediately at the office of C. Ringdon, Attorney-at-Law, No 16 ---- street, Westport. In case of his death, his heirs should apply.

C. RINGDON."

"Now, what in the name of Neptune and all his scaly court can this mean?" ejaculated the amazed Captain Campbell.

"Should be happy to inform you," said a voice behind him, "only I don't happen to know what you're talking about."

Captain Campbell turned round, and saw a fashionably dressed young man, who had just entered, standing beside him.

"Ah, Stafford! how are you?" he said, extending his hand; "happy to see you. What in the world brought you here?--the very last person I ever expected to see in this quarter of the globe."

"Well," said Stafford, leisurely seating himself, "I came down here, nominally, to transact some business for the governor; but the fact is, I heard the Evening Star had arrived, and I wanted to pay my devoirs to her majesty, the Queen of the Isle. How is pretty Lady Sibyl?"

"Very well, and at present on a visit to the Rev. Mr. Brantwell's. But look at this advertisement, here, in the Westport _Herald_. What the deuce do you make of it?"

Stafford took the paper and carelessly glanced over the lines.

"Faith, I don't know. Somebody's left you a legacy, perhaps."

"Pooh! what a notion! Who under the sun is there to leave a legacy to me? The Campbells are all as poor as Job's turkey."

"Well, there's your mother's relations--the Eyres. Old Richard Eyre, the New York banker, is a millionaire, worth more hundred thousand dollars than I could undertake to count. He might have died and left you his money."

"And leave his own family without? A likely story," said Captain Campbell.

"My dear fellow, he had no family, except a wife, and she has been dead for many years. You may be certain he has left you his heir."

"By Jove! if it should prove to be true, that would be a streak of good luck. But it cannot be. Dame Fortune would never bestow on a Campbell any such friendly smile. They always were an impoverished race, and always will be, I believe."

"Don't be too confident. Strange things happen sometimes. For instance, I saw something strange a night or two ago.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Weil, you see, about dark I was wandering about the shore, enjoying a cigar and the beauty of the evening, and ruminating whether it wouldn't be advisable to take a boat and go over to see her adorable majesty, Queen Sibyl. Most likely my cogitation would have ended in my going, only, unfortunately, there was no boat to be seen. I was about to turn away in despair, when I suddenly espied a boat containing two persons land at some distance below where I stood. One was a young fellow, tall and good looking, with a certain air of aristocratic hauteur about him that told me he was not to be interfered with. But his companion--oh, ye gods and little fishes! what a perfect little sylph she was! Such a miraculous combination of blue eyes, yellow curls, snowy complexion, pink cheeks, and red, kissable lips, it never was my good fortune to encounter before. But what struck me most forcibly, was her resemblance to some one I had seen before and after puzzling myself for a long time, I at length discovered she was the very image of pretty little Christie, of the isle."

"Christie! oh, pooh! it couldn't have been she," said Captain Campbell, with an uneasy start.

"Of course, it couldn't have been she, with so dainty a knight as that, but it was most confoundedly like her, or what she was when I saw her last--four years ago; though I dare say she has greatly changed since then."

"Well, what was there so strange about a handsome fellow and a pretty girl landing on the beach, to interest the nonchalant Will Stafford?" asked Captain Campbell.

"Listen--I haven't got to the strange part of my story yet. They walked up the beach to the road, and I could see the girl was terrified and excited, while he tried to soothe and quiet her. My curiosity was aroused; for, 'pon my soul, Campbell, I never saw a lovelier little creature; and with a sort of idea they were up to some mischief, I followed them. It was nearly dark, and they hurried on so fast they did not notice me, and I tracked them into one of the most obscure streets of the town, and saw them enter a little, secluded, Methodist meeting-house.'

"Well?" said his auditor.

"Well, sir, the fellow left her there and went off. I crept softly in, and in the obscurity hid behind a post, determined to see the end. Dark as it was, I could see she trembled with inward emotion, and crouched down in her seat, with her face hidden in her hands, as if terror, remorse, sorrow, or some other feeling, was weighing down her heart."

"Wonder the gay Will Stafford did not approach and offer her consolation," said the young captain, dryly.

"By Jove! I felt like doing it," said Mr. Stafford, in all sincerity; "but I wanted to see what was up, for I knew now all could not be quite right. Presently, the young man came back, and with him a minister. All was clear as stars at noonday, now--this was a runaway match, a clandestine marriage--something which is always interesting to fast young men like myself. The happy pair stood up before the clergyman, and the twain were soon made one flesh.

"My ears would have run themselves into points in order to hear the better, but I listened in vain. The minister mumbled over the ceremony so confoundedly low that I could not hear a single word--not even the names of the parties, which I was particularly anxious to find out. I suppose it was all right, however, for I saw the clergyman pocket the fee, and the young man, tucking little blue-eyes under his arm, walked off; and, faith, I'd given a trifle to have stood in his place. I followed, not being ambitious to be locked up all night, even in so holy a place as a church. Just as I went out, I heard an awful shriek, and there the bride stood like one suddenly turned to stone, while the bridegroom was trying to console her. What scared her I don't know, but certainly I never saw a more terrified look on any face than was on hers. Not wishing to be seen, I drew back, and in a few minutes they started on. I followed them as before, and saw the girl stop for a moment in a grocery store, while he waited outside. Then they went down to the beach, he handed her into the boat, pushed off, and they were gone--leaving me to rub my eyes and wonder whether I was sleeping or waking. Now, what do you think of this wedding on the sly, without friends, or witnesses, or anything in the usual line?"

"Well, really, I cannot say, such things do not interest me as deeply as they do you. Perhaps it's the Westport fashion."

"No; there's something wrong. He was evidently of a rank superior to the girl. I could tell that, both by their dress and air, and general appearance. I _would_ like to get at the bottom of this mystery."

"Then why not see the minister who married them, and find out from him?"

"Well, for sundry reasons. First, I didn't see his face, and wouldn't know him if I stumbled over him. Second, it looks like a rascally, low-bred trick; this tracking them and playing the spy, that I should be ashamed to tell any one of it, but so old a friend as you."

"Well, then, never mind this mysterious couple any more," said Captain Campbell, impatiently; "but tell me what I had better do about this advertisement."

"Why, go and see this C. Ringdon, attorney-at-law, at once, that's all; I'll go with you; it's not ten minutes' walk from here."

"But if it should prove to be a humbug?" said Captain Campbell, as he sallied forth, arm-in-arm with Stafford.

"Then thrash C. Ringdon, attorney-at-law, within an inch of his life," said his pacific friend. "It's the only balm for a wounded mind I know of."

Captain Campbell laughed; and the conversation turned on various matters as they walked on.

In a short time they reached the office of C. Ringdon--a dingy-looking, old house, with his name over the door, in exceedingly dingy letters.

Mr. Ringdon, a sharp, shrewd-looking little man, sat alone in his office, when they entered. He pushed up his spectacles, and surveyed them keenly as they came in.

"You, I presume, are the Mr. Ringdon mentioned in this advertisement?" said Captain Campbell, handing him the paper, and pointing to the advertisement.

"I am sir. Can you give me any information concerning the parties in question?"

"Faith, he ought to, being the principal party in question himself," interposed Stafford.

"How, sir,--are you a relative of these Campbells of the Isle?" asked the attorney.

"Yes; the son of the Mark Campbell mentioned there."

"Ah! Are there any more of you? Is your father living?"

"No; he has been dead these four years; and there are _no more of us_, as you are pleased to term it, but one sister. May I ask what all this affair is about?"

"Certainly, Mr. Campbell. You are aware, perhaps, you had an uncle in New York---Mr. Richard Eyre, the banker?"

"I knew it! Wasn't I just saying the old gentleman was at the bottom of it?" said Stafford, giving Captain Campbell a dig in the ribs.

"I am aware of that fact, sir; he was my mother's only brother."

"Exactly. Well, he is dead."

"Indeed!" said the young man, gravely.

"Yes, sir; and, having no heirs of his own, he has left his whole fortune to be divided equally between his sister's children. The sum is enormous; and I beg leave to congratulate you on your good fortune. I do not know the exact amount, and for further particulars it will be necessary for you to visit New York, where the lawyer who drew up the will resides. Here is his address. All you have to do, is to prove your identity, settle a few preliminaries, and take immediate possession of your fortune. Excuse me, gentlemen, I am very busy, and, with your permission, will bid you good-morning."

And the little attorney bowed them politely out.

"Well, this is a streak of good luck!" exclaimed Stafford. "Upon my word, Campbell, you must have been born with a silver spoon in your mouth. I suppose you will start instantly for New York?"

"Not instantly, my dear Stafford. I must go and inform Sibyl of our good fortune. Dear, noble girl, for her sake I am truly thankful for this."

"Of course you ought to be; not many men are blessed with such a sister as that radiant, glorious Sibyl. Have you any objections to my accompanying you?"

"Delighted to have you, my dear fellow. Suppose we start now; we will be at Brantwell's before dark."

"Just as you please, my dear sir. I suppose it will be 'sight for sair een' to see her dazzling majesty, the Queen of the Isle, again."

A carriage was soon in readiness, and our two friends started to impart this sudden glimpse of fortune's sunshine to Sibyl.

It was dark when they reached the parsonage--a handsome and rather imposing-looking mansion--and were ushered into the drawing-room by a neat-looking little maid. Sibyl and Mrs. Brantwell were seated alone, Mr. Brantwell having gone to see a sick parishioner.

Sibyl joyfully hailed her brother, and smilingly greeted his companion, who was an old friend and secret admirer. Poor Will Stafford! The impressions the child Sibyl had formerly made on his heart, time had nearly obliterated; but that radiant smile, those glorious eyes and bewitching glance, totally finished him.

Good Mrs. Brantwell welcomed her guests in her usual hearty manner, and with a jolly little laugh. But when she heard of the unexpected good fortune of Sibyl and her brother, her rapturous delight knew no bounds.

"Just to think of it!" she exclaimed, "my handsome Sibyl an heiress. Oh, won't she create an excitement now? Young, rich, and beautiful! Sibyl! Sibyl! what an enviable fate is yours!"

Sibyl's cheek flushed, and her eyes brightened, as she thought of Willard. For _his_ sake she rejoiced over her new-found fortune. Often and bitterly had she secretly regretted, and her pride revolted at the idea of becoming the bride of one so far superior in wealth and fortune. But now she was his equal! there was triumph, joy, exultation in the thought. His aristocratic friends could not look down on her now--could not despise her for her poverty. Look down on her--a Campbell of the Isle! In other days, who would have dared to do so and live? But times had changed since those days; and people looked more now to dollars and dimes than to blood or noble ancestry. Now she had both; she was his equal in wealth, as she was infinitely his superior in every noble quality, and the triumphant thought sent the blood rushing to her crimson cheeks, her red, glowing lips, and the dark, Southern eyes of jet, lit up magnificently with pride, love, and exultation. This fortune of hers she would cast at his feet, with her passionate devotion, as she had already cast heart, and life, and being, and soul.

"What are you thinking of, Sibyl?" said Captain Campbell, after watching her a few moments, with a smile. "Your cheeks and eyes are blazing, your whole face illuminated, as it were, with an inward light of joy and triumph. Surely you do not care as much as this for wealth?"

"Pooh! I know what it's all about," broke in Mrs. Brantwell, in her customary matter-of-fact manner. "She's thinking that good-looking Mr. Drummond will have a richer bride than he bargained for. Isn't that so, Mistress Sibyl?"

Sibyl started from her reverie, and blushed deeply at finding her thoughts thus interpreted. Stafford turned pale as he watched her glowing face; and the conviction came home to him, for the first time, that Sibyl Campbell's rare beauty was appreciated by other eyes than his.

"By the way, when was Drummond here?" asked Captain Campbell.

"Day before yesterday--wasn't it, Sibyl? He doesn't visit us very often--not half so often as so devoted a lover should. Oh, you needn't try to annihilate me with those flashing eyes of yours, my lady. I'm not a young gentleman, thank goodness! and am proof against even those bright, angry glances. To be sure the young man may have some plausible excuse; but it seems to me if I were in his place I'd stick to you like a chesnut-burr, for fear you might slip through my fingers. Poor, dear Mr. Brantwell was twice as attentive in his courting days, and I never had any beauty worth mentioning," said Mrs. Brantwell, with her usual jolly laugh.

"I don't know about that, my dear lady," said Guy, gayly. "If I were a marrying man, I'd sooner bend my knees to you than half the young girls I know. Only I've an immense respect for Mr. Brantwell, there is no telling what I might be tempted to do."

"Don't be too confident, Master Guy," said the good-humored lady. "I wouldn't have anything to do with such a graceless young scamp as you for any consideration; though, for the sake of sound morality and good taste, I should hope you wouldn't fall in love with me. And here comes Mr. Brantwell himself, who wouldn't approve of it, by any means."

At this moment the good clergyman entered, and warmly greeted his guests.

In a few words his wife told him of this astonishing good fortune. Mr. Brantwell always took matters very coolly, a circumstance which sometimes provoked his more excitable lady, as on the present occasion--he merely elevated his eyebrows slightly in token of surprise, and said:

"Indeed!"

"Yes, indeed!" responded his wife, irreverently mimicking his tone, "and one would think fortunes were in the habit of pouring into people's hands as they walked, by the way you take it."

"Well, where is the use of flying off at a tangent at everything," retorted her spouse, "as you do. I suppose, captain, you will start for New York immediately?"

"Yes, to-morrow morning."

"And as Sibyl may be wanted, you had better take her, too," said Mr. Brantwell.

"Very true; I never thought of it before. Can you be ready, Sibyl?"

Sibyl thought of Drummond, and asked, rather hesitatingly, "How long will you be gone?"

"About a week--or two or three, at the farthest."

"Now, Sibyl," broke in Mrs. Brantwell, who seemed to possess the faculty of reading people's thoughts, "never mind Mr. Drummond; I'll break the news of your absence to him in the gentlest manner possible. Your fortune is of more importance just now than his lordship, who, no doubt, will follow you to New York when he hears you are there."

There was no use getting angry with the good-humored old lady, so Sibyl smiled, and promised to ready betimes next morning.

And early the following day the brother and sister set out for New York.