William Lovell had been to Boston and shipped on board a merchant vessel for the West Indies and from thence to some more distant port, and had now returned to the cottage to put up his little bundle of clothes and bid farewell to his old companions and friends, and to say good-bye to his parents and her whom he loved with an affection that found no parallel among those with whom he had associated. It was this very love which had given birth to the ambition that actuated him, and the desire to acquire experience and pecuniary competency.
It was the evening before he was to sail, a mild summers night, when with Fanny he sought the summit of High rock. They seated themselves upon the rough stone seat, hewn from the solid rock by the hand of the red man, or perhaps by some race anterior even to them, and long and silently did both gaze off upon the distant sea. It was very calm, and the gentle waves but just kissed the rocky borders of Valiant and threw up little jets of silver spray about the black mass of Egg Bock. The moon seemed to be embroidering fancy patterns of silver lace upon the blue ocean, which scarcely moved, so gentle were the swells of its broad bosom under the fairy operation. This was some seventy years gone by, years of toil and labor, of joy and sorrow, years of smiling peace and angry war, three score and ten years ago, and yet within a twelve month I have sat upon that rock, aye, upon that very stone, and looked upon the same silvery sea, and viewed the same still, silvery scene; gazing on the same iron-bound shores, and the black and frowning mass of Egg Rock still there, as if placed a sentinel upon the shore, and yet sufficiently within the domain of Neptune to lead to the belief that it serves the hoary old god rather than the spirits of the land.
Fanny Campbell was a noble looking girl. She was none of your modern belles, delicate and ready to faint at the first sight of a reptile; no, Fanny could row a boat, shoot a panther, ride the wildest horse in the province, or do almost any brave and useful act. And Fanny could write poetry too, nay, start not gentle reader, her education was of no mean character. Such slight advantages as chance had thrown in her way had been improved to the utmost, and her parents finding her taste thus inclined, had humoured it to the extent of their limited means. Thus Fanny had received nearly every advantage attainable in those days. Once or twice in the course of the year, she was accustomed to pass some weeks at the house of a Reverend divine at Boston, with whom her father claimed some relationship. While here, the good man discovered her taste and inclination for study, and gave her such instructions as he was able, with the loan of books to amuse and strengthen her mind. By these means Fanny had actually obtained an excellent education at the time when we have introduced her to the reader; being but seventeen years of age. In her turn she had communicated her information to William Lovell and thus the two had possessed themselves of a degree of education and judgment that placed them above their friends in point of intelligence, and caused them to be looked up to in all matters of information, and scholarship.
‘Fanny,’ said William, ‘I shall be far away from you before another day has passed.’
‘Yes, many miles at sea, William’
‘But my heart will remain at home.’
‘And mine will leave it.’
‘In safe keeping, Fanny.’
‘I doubt it not, William.’
‘I find it even harder than I had supposed to leave you Fanny, now that the time has actually arrived.’
‘I do not think that we should regret it William, after all, for it will be the source of much improvement to you no doubt, and that you know is very desirable to us all. While I regret to think you are about to leave us I also envy you the experience you necessarily gain of the world, something that books cannot teach.’
‘You are a strange girl, Fanny.’
‘Do you love me any the less because I speak as I feel? William, I have no secrets from you.’
‘No, no, my dear girl, I only love thee the more, while I am still more surprised at thy brave and noble spirit, at the judgment and thought that characterises one of thy sex and tender years. By my soul thou shouldst have been a man, Fanny.’
‘Had I been, why, I would have done just that which thou art about to do – go abroad and see the world.’
‘And if you had a Fanny too at home whom you loved, would you go and leave her behind?’
‘Yes, because like you I should not know how dearly she loved me – perhaps.’
William pressed her hand and paused thoughtfully for a moment, then turning to her by his side resumed:
‘Fanny!’
‘Well – William.’
‘Would you have me give up this proposed enterprise? Say so, dearest, and I will relinquish it at once.’
‘Generous heart,’ said she placing her braided hands upon his shoulder first, and then laying her cheek upon them, ‘not for worlds. Though thy Fanny is over miserly in all that relates to thee, yet she would rather have thee follow thy inclination. No, no, I would have thee go.’
‘Nay, Fanny, I knew not until now how much I loved thee,’ said William Lovell, putting his arm about her waist and imprinting a kiss upon her smooth white forehead.
Fanny was not easily moved to tears, yet even she now brushed carelessly aside a single pearly drop that stole away from her deep blue eye. (Did you ever notice what depth there is to a blue eye, reader?)
‘You will often remember us here at home I know, William,’ said Fanny, and think how fervently we shall pray for your safe return’ And now the tear’s, apparently gathering fresh courage from the trembling voice of the noble girl, ventured to show themselves more boldly.
‘When I forget thee, dear Fanny, or any of the kind friends I leave behind, may Heaven forsake me.’
It was midnight when they separated, William was an honest and strictly conscientious youth; brought up after the strict code of puritanic faith, and as he was about to retire to rest, he bent his knee to Heaven and prayed long and fervently for blessings upon Fanny, his parents and all, and for guidance in his new undertaking. Then throwing himself upon his cot he was soon fast asleep.
Fanny too sought her chamber for the night but not to sleep, ah! no. She knelt to the throne of grace, and prayed for Heaven’s choicest blessings on him she loved, for his safe conduct upon the wide and trackless ocean. And oh! so fervent a prayer, and from one so devoted, so pure and innocent, must ever find audience in Heaven. As she cast off her neat and becoming homespun dress, she paused to brush away the gathering tears.
Have we described Fanny’s person, kind reader? No! What more fitting time than when clothed only in such a simple and modest covering as shall veil her charms.
Fanny Campbell was in height what would be called tall at the present day for a female, and yet she was not particularly so, for a healthy girl, who had never known a day of sickness, born and brought up in the free and invigorating air of the sea coast. Her limbs and person possessed that bewitching roundness, which, while it seems to indicate a tendency to enbon-point, yet is the farthest removed from an overfleshiness of habit her full heaving breast,