Page:The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14.djvu/695

1864.] him. They laid their plan before him. What could he do? Neither explain himself, nor yet defy them all. He surrendered; and the next day the old sign, ., meant what it had not meant the day before. The word of any one of these people was as good as a bond to the others; therefore no papers of agreement were made out, but Andrew paid down the money, because that was his way of satisfying himself,—and son Silas was now a partner.

Everybody concerned was so well pleased with this arrangement, that he whose pleasure in it was specially desired had not the heart to speak his mind, or to resolve further than that he would do his duty. Indeed, he soon began to believe that he was satisfied.

Young Silas thought he saw good reason for bringing forward his partner's motto into fresh conspicuity in these days: he believed in that motto, he purposed to work by it, but it was not merely his policy to give his faith manifestation. He made several efforts, after his own odd, original style, to impress the pretty Columbia with the significance of that sentiment. Often his talk with the young lady had the gravity and weight of a moral essay, and she took it well,—was not impatient,—would answer him as a child, "I know it is so, Silas,"—did not imagine how much these very lectures cost him, or that he delivered them with as much inward composure as an orator might be supposed to feel on the brink of a precipice, where the awful rocks and depths gave echo to his utterance.

Why should he so much disturb himself on her account?—she was so studious, so blameless, what great need of this oversight he was exercising continually?

Young Alexander, now Midshipman Alexander, once a cabin-boy, promoted step by step on the score of actual merit and brave service performed,—Midshipman Alexander, son of an old sailor's old widow, who lived in Salt Lane, to whom Andrew Swift and Silas Dexter and other well-disposed men had lent a helping hand when poverty had brought her to some desperate strait,—this young Alexander, who had been coming home once in every three years since his twelfth birthday, and who in the course of many years of voyages came to look on Dexter's house as his home on land, after his mother died,—he interfered with the peace of Silas Swift.

He returned from service, after every voyage, a taller, stronger, nobler, wiser, handsomer man. He had a career open before him; he could not fail of honorable fortune. Every inch a hero Alexander looked, and was; nobody ever tired of hearing his adventures; no one grew unbelieving, when he spoke of the future,—all things seemed so possible to him; and then he was really not possessed of the demon of vanity, the ill-shaped evil monster, but was straightforward, and earnest, and determined, and capable.

And Dexter, any one could see, was growing dreadfully proud of his Columbia.

Silas Swift felt the sands moving under his feet. He dared not build on a foundation so insecure. But, oh, he wished himself away from High Street, ten thousand, thousand miles! He fell into dreaming moods that did not leave him satisfied and cheerful. Surely, other quarters of the globe had other circumstances than these which kept him to a life so dull, under skies so leaden. Alas! the waving of the banners did not any more uplift him, leading him on as a good soldier to battles and victories. He tried to get the better of himself,—after the last visit of this Alexander, he was tolerably successful; he studied hard, ambitious to keep at least on an equality of learning with Columbia,—and he went far ahead of her, for certain desperate reasons. But when Dexter began to treat him with profound respect, as a man of learning should be treated, according to his notions, the poor young fellow, mortified and miserable, put away his books, and loathed his false position.

The old time to which through all prosperity Silas clung with fond fears, the dear old time was all over, he said to[Pg 686]